Page 6 of Bella

"Did anyone ever catch the club's name?" Grace asks.

"Nameless MC, Wyoming," Gabriel says with harshness in his voice. "I talked with some out-of-town clubs today, and not one had a decent word to say about them," he adds.

"Think we'll have any problems out of them?" Bella looks at me with genuine concern. "It's been a long time since the club has had beef with anyone, and I, for one, have enjoyed the peace."

Jake scrubs his palm down his beard. "They seem like the sort stupid enough to show up eventually. We'll just have to keep vigilant." He stands. "I need to rest my bones, so the old lady and I are gonna head home." Jake looks around the bar. "Yo, Charley. I'm headin' out!" he shouts, but gets no reply.

Odd.Charley is never far and always says his goodbyes.

The energy in the room changes and the air thickens. Judging by the others' body language, they sense something isn't right too. That's when Charley walks out of the back kitchen with one of the Nameless bikers holding a gun to his head. Following them is the motherfucker whose throat I had my hand wrapped around, along with the rest of his good-for-nothing men.

"Would you look at that…" He pauses, wearing a grin I'd like to permanently remove from his face with my fist. "The army of men you had before isn't here to back you up." He scans the room, laying eyes on each of us. "It appears we've caught you with your pants down. I have the upper hand now."

Gabriel stands, his frame towering over most of the men in the room, and puts himself in front of Alba. Jake, Riggs, Quinn, and I follow suit, protecting our women. "Don't be heroes," the biker spits, "or your friend here gets a bullet in his head, then I'll pick another one to off, starting with your old ladies." He sneers, then his eyes land on me. "You're mine, son of a bitch. No one disrespects me and gets away with it." He pulls a six-inch blade from the sheath attached to his side.

"I could shoot you dead and get it over with, but where's the fun in that?" His sinister grin lets me know he's the kind of man who kills for sport. I feel a cold metal edge touch my fist clenched at my side and look down to see Gabriel is slipping me his coveted knife, the one he uses to slit the throats of motherfuckers like the Nameless standing before me. I grip the bone handle and tap the blade against my leg. The biker's eyes fall to my weapon before lifting them back to my face. "I'm gonna gut you like a pig." He moves into the center of the room.

I glance at my brothers, and they know what needs to happen. Then, I face Bella. "The moment an opportunity presents itself, take the women and get the fuck out of here, got me?"

She nods. "What about Charley?" she whispers.

"Just do as I say," I tell her.

Making eye contact one final time with my brothers, I joined the Nameless bastard in the center of the bar room.

Without pause, the biker lunges for me, the knife swinging wildly through the air. It misses me the first time but, on the upswing, catches my forearm as I slash across his ribcage. He comes at me again, but I step to the side, grabbing hold of his cut and tossing him into the bar. Catching himself, he turns, raising his knife above his head, ready to bring it down. The dumb son of a bitch has no control, leaving himself open to what happens next: a heavy steal toe boot to the dick, causing him to cough, choking on his balls. His knife falls to the floor. I grab a handful of his greasy black hair, spin him around, and repeatedly slam his face into the bar top.

All hell breaks loose inside the bar, and a gun discharges. I glance back, noticing Riggs has disarmed the asshole with a gun trained on Charley and is rearranging the biker's facial structure with the butt of his weapon. Meanwhile Quinn, Gabriel, and Jake are in an all-out brawl with the other bikers.

4

BELLA

My heart pounding, I look on with rapt attention as the situation in front of me quickly escalates. I didn't think these assholes would be stupid enough to ignore the warning at the fundraiser earlier to leave town, but they’re currently getting their asses handed to them.

Standing off to the side, Alba, Emerson, Grace, Luna, and I watch the scene unfold. Behind me, Alba gasps when one guy picks up a chair and hurls it across the room, straight for Gabriel, who is currently kicking the shit out of someone. Luckily, he turns at the last second, dodging the chair, and it slams into the wall instead. Not so lucky for the chair-throwing son of a bitch because Gabriel now has his sights set on him.

Luna’s tug on my arm catches my attention, and I look to where she’s pointing. Seeing the woman from earlier in the day causes the blood in my veins to boil. She's creeping along the edge of the bar with her fist wrapped around the neck of a bottle of whiskey. I trace her direction of movement to Logan. "Oh, hell no," I hiss.

Not wasting any time, I storm across the bar toward the bitch who thinks she can fuck with my man, grabbing a serving tray as I pass by one of the tables. "Hey!" I shout. At the sound of my voice, the woman pauses and turns. I jerk my chin. "I don't fucking think so, bitch." Then I swing. The serving tray makes contact with her face. The blow causes her to stumble on her heels before she falls back, landing on her ass, and she starts squealing like a pig. "Oh my god! You broke my nose," she cries.

"If you don't fancy a few missing teeth to go with that broken nose, glue your ass to the floor," I warn her.

She glares at me, then cuts her eyes over at her posse creeping this way, but when my girls step up behind me, the women hesitate. I shake my head at them, my eyes daring them to fuck around and find out. The women look at me and then at their friend on the floor with a busted face. Lucky for them, they make the right choice and back the fuck off.

But my attention moves from the woman at my feet when the atmosphere shifts. The hairs on my neck stand up as I realize how deathly silent everyone in the room has become. My gut churns and my blood runs cold when I see one of the Nameless with a gun aimed at Logan's head. A switch flips, and my blood goes from cold to scorching in two-point-five seconds. That's the same amount of time it takes me to read the situation. The biker who called me a whore is lying lifeless at Logan's feet. There’s a Nameless member with his back pressed against the wall near the hallway with Riggs' gun aimed at his head, and another in Gabriel's clutches, with a blade pressed against his neck.

All eyes become fixed on the motherfucker who has made the mistake of holding a gun to my husband's head.

"Tell your men to drop their weapons," the Nameless bastard demands.

"Not a fuckin' chance," Logan growls, not giving Jake a chance to respond.

"I guess you don't have a problem with your buddies watching me put a bullet in your brain and painting these walls with your blood," he sneers.

My fists ball at my sides, and my vision blurs when the vile threat spews through the fucker's lips.

I spot my purse on the floor a few feet to my left. It got lost during the chaos as chairs sailed through the air and fists flew. Without hesitation, I snatch up the bag, reach inside, and wrap my fingers around the cool grip of the gun Logan gave me for my birthday last year.

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