Page 55 of Huge Dynamite
“And you’re willing to turn on your brothers for a woman?”
Taking a deep breath, I sigh it out through my clenched teeth. “I’m not turning on anyone. This has nothing to do with my brothers or a woman.” Forcing the tone of my voice lower, I try to mask my urgency. “I’m making a deal. We’ll give you the land outside of Hoppa in exchange for Greenville.”
“Sorry. Hoppa and its surrounding areas are nothing. Greenville has businesses. I need those people.”
“The people who live there aren’t your property.”
“They’ll learn.”
Looking at the man sitting opposite him, Luther reaches under the table, and as he does, I drop to one knee and pull a gun, pointing it at Luther. Graybeard pulls a gun on me, but he’s way too slow to match my speed. The woman jumps down and crawls behind her stool. The bartender disappears into the back, and a door slams shut. Good. That must mean there’s a back door. As sweat rolls down my face, I am acutely aware that I hear motorcycles in the distance.
Fuck. The Dogs are coming home.
“You don’t want to do that, Dynamite,” Luther warns, nodding to my gun.
“You’re wrong, Luther.Youdon’t want to mess with me. Leave Greenville alone. Am I clear?” I need to end this before a dozen or more Dogs come barging in and attack me.
“Why should I?”
Staying low, I swing my leg around and sweep the legs out from under the asshole at the bar. Jumping up, I rush behind him, and with a swift move, I knock him down with an elbow blow between the shoulder blades. Standing over him, I lift his head from the floor. Raising my hand with the gun high, I bring it down hard, clocking him with the butt of my gun. With Luther’s bodyguard, Two-Ton, crippled outside and this asshole down, I’ve got a clean shot at Luther. But killing Luther could bring certain and almost instant death to my brothers and sister of the club.
Still, for the moment, I have Luther—unprotected. He’s wielding a knife, which is nothing against my three guns.
“Say you’ll leave Greenville alone, Luther. Pull your men out.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.”
As the roar of Dog bikes grows louder, all of my protective instincts kick in, and like a wild animal, I lunge at Luther. Coming up from behind him, I grab his head and bend it back. The man sitting opposite Luther yelps and screams through his tape.
“Shut up,” I snap. With my arm wrapped around Luther’s neck, choking him, I’m suddenly aware that I have no idea what I’m doing. If I kill him now, in essence, I kill us all. “Listen to me, Luther. I got to you once, I can get to you again. Pull out of Greenville now, and you’ll get something in return. If you don’t pull out, we’ll take it, and you and your men—those who survive—will be left with nothing. Think of this as your one offer.”
The roar of the bikes is louder—they’re almost outside.
Letting go of Luther, he falls to the floor, gasping for air. Reaching out, I grab his knife, and quickly, I cut through the man’s binds. The man wastes time trying to remove his mouth tape, but I have no time to warn him to go. I’ve got to get out. Backing up, I exit behind the bar the same way the bartender did, and I move toward the back room just as the shadows of wild Dogs fill the doorway.
With my heart thumping, I rush into the back room—but nothing. There’s nothing but folding tables and chairs stacked against the walls and no friggin’ door.
“What the fuck?”
“Boss?” One of the Dogs is inside talking to Luther.
Bang! Bang!No doubt Luther’s prisoner is dead. That means I’m next. Spying a large sack of potatoes that’s down a short, empty hallway off of this room, I rush toward it. Looking left and right, there’s no door but there’s sunlight falling on the sack—sunlight that is coming from somewhere. Turning my head upward, I see it: a window.
Stepping onto the sack, it crumbles under my feet. Shit. I must weigh more than that skinny bartender.
“Hey!”
There’s a voice behind me, but I don’t dare turn. Instead, in an act of blind faith, I leap up and grab the windowsill. Holding on and hanging off the ground with one hand, I slap at the window with the other. Sure enough, it opens. That must have been the door I heard open and shut.
“There’s a fucking Knight in here!”
Footsteps grow closer. With every ounce of strength and adrenaline I have, I pull myself up, using the toes of my boots as traction to climb the wall. Pressing myself fully up, I dangle headfirst out the window. “Shit!” It’s a freaking long drop down, but it’s better than the alternative.
Somebody grabs at my feet, so I kick and flail, hoping I get at least one Dog square in the teeth. Bending farther forward, I “walk” my hands down the side of the building. Falling from about five feet, I land on my injured shoulder.
“Fuck!” I mumble through clenched teeth. I can’t care about pain. I can’t stop. Rushing out toward the street behind the alleyway, I pray I can outrun this group and then double back for my bike. Glancing over my shoulder, I see three guys running toward me. None have weapons drawn, so Luther must want me alive.
Oh, crap, that’s even worse.
