Page 61 of Rider Daddies
There’s still a chance…
I turn back toward the parking lot, measuring the distance between here and the ground. How likely am I to break a bone or tear something? Chances are high if I land wrong.
Unfortunately, I don’t have time to debate this for much longer.
Gun close to my chest, I launch myself over the railing without a second thought and prepare to bend my knees as I land.
Fortunately, it’s an upright landing.
Unfortunately, I can’t feel one of my legs.
“Fucking stupid,” I mutter to myself, unsure why I didn’t just do what any normal bastard would and shoot him in the face.
Instead, I chose flight.
Literally.
I straighten up and waste no time attacking more people. Bodies litter the ground now. Too many to count. The men here must breed like rats because they keep on coming, one after the other like there is no end. We’re doing well to hold them off…but I don’t know how long we have left.
Yes, when it comes to physical strength, the three of us have advantages, but anything in big amounts can cause destruction. If you put a million ants up against a lion, the ants are winning.
Death by a thousand cuts.
Ash, now with Lucia in his arms, faces a severe handicap, especially since there are now five coming at him.
“Take Lucia to the bikes and come back,” I yell across the parking lot.
But he doesn’t hear me.
Even if he did, it would be too late.
Lucia, the gorgeous liability that she is, wriggles out of Ash’s grip when he’s preoccupied with his gun and jumps down to the ground, running diagonal across the lot to get to…Manual?
Is this a joke?
She’s such a stubborn woman, and way more hassle than she needs to be. We shouldn’t have come out here. That would’ve been the most sensible thing to do. If we lose this, which, let’s face it, is looking likely, all Tristan has to do is make a report to the right person about us molesting his so-called “wife,” and we’re done for.
Suddenly we’re the bad guys.
But we knew all of this could’ve been a possibility. We knew the risks.
And we took them anyway.
I blame Tristan for fucking up his own wedding. Thanks to him, he’s now fucking up our lives. Lives that were blissfully peaceful before the runaway bride entered and cooked up a storm.
I watch Lucia run into Manual’s arms and know that this is a fucking lost cause. Her anger toward him means nothing if she doesn’t have a…
Knife.
Don’t bring a weapon to a fight if you don’t know how to wield it.
“Lucia!” I yell.
She charges toward Manual with the knife like she has a detailed plan of how she’s gonna kill him.
Stick ’em with the pointy end.
Sounds easy until the pointy end is being flipped against you.
