Page 54 of Mile High With the Bikers
“What happened to no guns in the car?” I taunt.
“Fuck you!” He points the gun at my face. “Sit your ass back down or Ms. Whittaker is the only one who makes it to our destination.”
“Mason, don't you dare!” Rory throws herself in front of me.
“Rory, get the fuck out of the way!” I try to nudge her away while working on making a bigger gap. Of course, she ignores me.
“He's not going to shoot me. He needs me. Isn’t that right?” She faces Mason, forcing herself even harder into the space between us. “Without me, you're not going to be able to control Hermes, because I'm the only one who knows how. If Dad was able to do it, you never would’ve needed to come get me at all. I’m the one who knows the tools, the right order, the commands, everything. You can't afford to shoot me.”
Goddamn it, I understand her logic, but I’m not going to use the woman I’m falling in love with as my fucking shield. “Rory?—”
“Let me do this. I'm not strong like you, but I know what I'm worth. Mason can't afford to shoot me.”
“Get out of the way, Ms. Whittaker. There are plenty of non-lethal places to put a bullet. I don't want to, because you've always treated me good, but I don't have much choice. I'm in too deep.” He aims lower, at her leg.
Motherfucker.
I roar like a fucking bear, draw on every little bit of strength I have, and pull the divider loose, shouldering Rory aside in the process. She hits the door with a pained grunt, but she's out of the line of fire. Mason pulls the trigger just as I throw myself sideways. The bullet embeds itself in the back window. At least they got the armor plating they paid for.
I jump, throwing myself at him through the gap I made before he adjusts his aim, leading with my knife. It’s not big or flashy, but it’s fucking sharp and that’s all I need to draw blood.
The driver screams as Mason and I wrestle for control, whacking into him and sending the car careening into another lane. My life flashes before my eyes as a fucking eighteen wheeler heads straight for us. The truck driver slams on his horn and his brakes squeal, while our guy wrenches the wheel to the side and throws us back into our lane. We lose a side mirror with a shriek of metal, but at least we’re not crushed to death.
The momentum as we straighten throws me and Mason into the right side door, me with my knife pressing against his throat, and him twisting the gun to aim it at my fucking head. “An inch more and I'll fucking open your neck from ear to ear. Drop the gun,” I snarl.
Unfortunately, the driver's not on our side. The car lurches as he makes another fast move, throwing me back into the middle and leaving Mason on top. He raises his gun and aims.
Fuck, I have nowhere to go.
“Don't!” Rory throws herself at Mason's arm, messing up his aim.
The crack of the gun is deafening in the front of the limo. Is Rory okay? I push off the driver and get a leg under me, so I can get back in there. Peeling her hand off Mason, I shove her roughly into the back. I barely catch the sound of her indignant gasp before Mason drives his fist into my ribs.
Fuck, that hurt. It takes everything I have to hold him down while he's trying to get free. The hot barrel of his iron smacks against the side of my head, forcing me to reel. I swing my knife as I fall backwards, savoring his pained scream as I catch his arm. The blade comes out bloody.
“Shrapnel, the car!”
Me and Mason come to the same realization at the same time. The bullet took out our driver, who's now dead weight on the wheel, with his foot stuck on the gas. As we speed faster and faster down the road, the car is listing left, bringing us back into opposing traffic, and we're all gonna be fucked if we don't do something. Doesn't mean either of us is willing to give the other one a free shot, though.
We wrestle to get to the driver, and my leg gets caught in the gap between the seats, twisting in a way that sends fiery streaks of pain shooting all the way up to my groin. Mason’s a heavy fucker, and I’ve got all his weight on top of me. Mason punches me in the head and I jam my thumb into his eye, steeling myself against the sickening pop.
He screams. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
Bracing against the driver, I throw myself around, using him for leverage. I wrench open the door and flip him out with a move that would’ve made my high school wrestling coach proud. His limp body tumbles out, and the whole car lurches as the rear wheels run him over. The bump knocks Mason off balance, and I manage to push him back to the other side. Blood is streaming down his face.
“Can you drive?” I shout to Rory.
“On it!”
I force Mason deeper into the passenger side, giving Rory room to squeeze through and into the driver's seat. The door is still flopping, and just for a moment I imagine her losing her balance and tumbling out, but she settles in the driver's seat and gets her hands on the wheel.
Not a fucking moment too soon. She throws us back towards the right, barely avoiding a pickup truck that's frantically flashing its brights, like we don't fucking know we’re sliding all over the fucking road.
This time I've fucking got him, pressing my knife closer while both of his hands are trying to push my arm back. But with all my weight behind it, it's slowly closing on him. Motherfucker.
“Ms. Whittaker, it doesn't have to be like this!” he yells desperately. “I know you don’t agree with what your father’s doing!”
“Tell me where he is,” she screams back at him while she wrangles the limo into its lane. We hit a bump and my blade draws blood, a trickle of red sliding down in his throat and onto his shirt.
