Page 64 of Mile High With the Bikers
We roll over each other across the floor, punching and clawing, until we end up against the wall, with her on top. There's the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, and the back of my head feels like it's already swelling. A bruise is forming around her eye and there's a red trickle from her left nostril, but she manages to pin my arms with her knees and put her hands around my throat, and I'm not strong enough to push her full weight off me.
“I should kill you. I should fucking kill you,” she wheezes. “If I have to make a run for it, I will, but I’ll make sure I leave behind the corpses of both you and your father if you don't stop messing with me. Now, you're going to get up and you're going to get me into the system, or I swear to God, I'm going to choke you out right here. Do you understand me?”
Her tight grip has my vision swimming and my lungs struggling for breath. What she's demanding is impossible, but if I tell her that, she'll definitely kill me. She doesn't have anything left to lose. With no air for answering, I manage a kind of nod. She squints suspiciously, but then she pulls back quickly, taking the pressure off and moving herself out of reach. I'm still catching my breath when she picks the gun back up.
“Leon, status!”
“We’re stalling them, but they’ll be here soon,” he yells from the hall, where he and his men have run out of furniture to throw at the barricade and are now just waiting for my boys to show up.
“Good. Come in here and lock the door. I want backup in case this little bitch wants to try out her claws again.” Haney waves at the computer with her gun while she wipes her mouth with theother. She glances down to check for blood, then back at me. “Go on. No more fucking around. Get us in. Now.”
34
DIESEL
The elevator dings.Is taking it up fucking stupid? Sure, but it's not like we're not prepared, and sometimes there's power in doing the dumbest thing possible, 'cause no one expects it.
Bull's face is a mask of determination, while Shrapnel's looking mildly psychotic, his eyes wild with blood lust. Piston and Mad Dog, having bonded during their shared captivity, rode up with us, eager to beat out some of their frustration. And Viking and Wild Child, because when have they ever passed up the chance to get physical?
The moment the elevator doors start to open, Mad Dog tosses two grenades through the crack. Smoke hisses from them as soon as they touch the floor, coming out so fast it makes the grenades spin down the hall.
Scared yells and a couple of random shots that hit nothing tell us the grenades are effective. The smoke will clear fast, but it's enough to give us a moment to get the jump on the goons that didn't expect it. Two moments later, we got three down, only one of them dead. We could've done worse.
The whole building rattles with gunshots, cut with screams. There's no way there aren't cops on the way, at least. Given that this is government property, I wouldn't be surprised if we’ve got a fucking battalion of soldier boys coming too. We gotta finish this and get the fuck out.
There’s an improvised barricade blocking the next hallway ahead. We don’t know if Rory’s back there, but they didn’t set up that barricade for nothing. What's actually going on here? We stay in cover until we can control the situation.
Holding up my hand for the others to stay in position, I dare a peek around the corner. “Hey! Fuckers! Whatever they're paying you, it's not worth it. We already got control of the building, and we're fucking armed to the teeth.” There's still shooting going on, so I might be stretching it a little, but it won't be long. These guys might be professionals, but they're acting like rent-a-cops with no real world experience up against a club full of men who are used to getting shot at. “How much is your life worth to you? They really throwing that much green your way?”
A gun goes off, the bullet kicking up plaster off the wall two inches above Bull’s head. “You almost messed up my hair, motherfucker!”
I snort as the halogen lights in the ceiling reflect off his shaved head, but the next shot hits about six inches lower. We probably shouldn't be helping them aim.
“Don't think they're gonna give.” Bull aims his iron around the corner and squeezes off a couple rounds. I listen for a shriek, but nothing.
“Got more of those smoke grenades?” I nudge Mad Dog with my foot.
He grins at me. “Thought you'd never ask.” Unhooking another one from his belt, he pulls the pin and throws it. He's got a hell of an arm. Bouncing off the wall, it knocks into the corner of one of the desks, back into the wall and then drops down behind the barricade. It's already spinning and throwing out smoke by then.
“Nice toss.” Bull gives an appreciative nod.
“Enough bullshitting.” Shrapnel pushes through and runs down the hall, obviously favoring his right leg. “We've got a girl to save.”
Fair enough. Me and Bull are right behind him, with the rest of the gang following. I fire into the barricade, hoping to do some damage before we get there. I can't imagine those desks are bullet proof. When someone screams, it turns out that I'm right.
And then we're there, climbing over it and looking for faces to punch. I don't recognize the first one I see through the smoke, and it gets my fist.
“Down!” Bull shouts, right before swinging a whole fucking desk into one of the goons. It slams the guy into the wall so hard his skull bounces before he drops to the floor like a sack of flour.
Shrapnel catches one of them and yanks him close, jamming the barrel of his gun right inside the goon's mouth. I wince as it snaps off a tooth. “Where the fuck is she.” That voice promises a brutal death to anyone who doesn't answer his question.
The guy can only mumble wide-eyed around the barrel, but he does his best, pointing at a door behind the barricade that's firmly shut. Shrapnel nods briefly, then returns his attention to the guy in front of him. I can almost see the tendons in his arm tighten as he prepares to pull the trigger.
“Shrapnel!” It's like he shakes out of it when Bull yells his name. “Eye on the prize.”
“Fuck.” Shrapnel pulls the gun out and knocks the guy in the side of the head instead. He drops, knocked out, but at least not dead.
“We're not here as a fucking execution squad.” Bull examines the door while Viking, Mad Dog, Piston and Wild Child clean up. “Rory's all that fucking matters. Back up.”
