Page 62 of Mile High With the Bikers
Diesel's right next to me, keeping an eye on my roughed-up passenger, with King on the other side. We’re taking point since we know Rory best, and Shrapnel might recognize the fuckers that took her away. And following are at least three dozen members, all ready to show these fuckers what it means to mess with the Screaming Eagles, or their women.
The two fuckers guarding the door are looking real damn shifty. No fucking way they are actually military. They don't even fucking try to fight us off. Just look at each other, then put their hands in the air while keeping their backs to the wall. Shrapnel dismounts, wincing and with a hand on his ribs. The rest of us are right behind him.
“Remember me, motherfucker?” he snarls, stomping up the stairs with just a hint of a limp.
The closest one backs away as we approach, but he can't back through the building and I have long fucking arms. Grabbing him by his collar I pull him right up to face me. Which means his feet aren't even touching the fucking ground. “Where the fuck is Rory?”
“I—I don't know who you're talking about.”
Diesel has his gun out immediately, pressing it against the guard's temple. “You sure you don't know? You really fucking look like you might know, and I'm running real fucking low on patience, so I'm gonna ask you exactly one more time. Where the fuck is the girl?”
“Just remember,” Shrapnel says almost happily, looking fucking grotesque with his broken nose and a bloody grin, “that you are one of many, so unless you can help, you’re completely fucking expendable. If you don't talk, I bet your buddy will after he sees what we do to you.”
“Inside! She's inside!”
I give him a shake. “Believe it or not, we figured out that much. What floor? Which door? Who's with her?”
“I don't know. I swear I don't! I haven't been inside. We're just guarding the door! Please, please, don't?—”
Yanking him close, I slam my skull into his. He goes quiet immediately, knocked out. “Fuck, he was getting annoying. How about you? You got something to add?” I drop the knocked-out guard to the ground and lock eyes with the other one.
“No! No, he was telling the truth. We haven't been inside. They locked themselves in right after we got here.”
I leave him be, pulling my iron instead. He whimpers, thinking his time's come, but I focus on the door. Someone in there has to have fucking noticed that we rolled in and are waiting for us. Me and Diesel take up positions on either side, while Viking and Badass shoot open the lock.
Knock, knock, motherfuckers.
The door slams open, and then me, Diesel, Crash, Devil and Bear chase Viking and Badass in, giving them cover until they run outta momentum. “Everyone down on the fucking ground.” Diesel's voice cuts through the noise like an angry drill instructor. “Anyone makes a move, and we're gonna put so much lead in them they can be used as a fucking pencil.”
By the time we've got the hall full of members, the three guards that were waiting for us are all down on the ground, their arms zip-tied behind their backs and their weapons confiscated. Didn't even put up a fucking fight.
And that's when I see the soldiers, fucking stacked behind the reception desk. I check the one on top, but I'm not fucking surprised when she has no pulse. These motherfuckers need to be taken out back and shot. It’s one thing to die for your country, another to get taken out just ‘cause someone got greedy.
“Let's find these assholes.” Diesel's already striding down the hall, his gun ready. I follow right behind, and then Shrapnel limps after. Fuck, when we get back, first thing I'm gonna do is get Doc or Emily to give him a look. He's gonna hurt himself.
First door we get to, Diesel kicks it. It slams open. Empty.
A couple of goons come around the corner from a second corridor, guns up.
Not fast enough. Diesel's gun barks in time with mine, but we're both a hair behind Shrapnel's two quick shots. Both of the fuckers go down, and I'm pretty sure Shrapnel beat us to both of them. That man is fucking furious.
We kick open another door, and it's as empty as the first one.
“How many of these offices are there?” he groans.
“Too fucking many. And there's upstairs too.”
Shrapnel limps ahead to the next one and kicks it open with a wince, pointing his gun in to cover the room. “I don't fucking care how many there are. I'm going until we find Rory. And I pity any fucker who gets in my way.”
As more of our boys come down the hallway, I nod to him and move to the next. “We're with you, brother.”
“Bet your fucking ass,” Diesel adds.
Fuck, Rory, you better hang on, because we're coming.
33
RORY
