Page 59 of Piston
Motherfucker!
“They are wearing Killer jackets,” I say, grunting at the ache in my arm. The men look at me, before peeking over to see where the shooters are hiding. I roll my eyes, then lock eyes with my brother and nod to the Welcome sign, he nods as I lift three fingers, and he relays it to others. Just as they start to shoot again, I lift my gun, ignoring the blood dripping from my arm, the pain nearly non-existent as adrenaline runs through me. I pull the trigger, my bullet hitting the fucker’s temple, his body dropping instantly.
Several more shots sound, and I quickly duck my head, a bullet just skimming my head, making me curse and move again.
Like fuck am I going to let my father’s men kill me when I have a woman waiting for me.
I aim my gun as another soon-to-be dead fucker stands from behind the sign to shoot. I pull the trigger once, then twice. One hits him in the chest, the other in the head, while my VP hits the third guy.
“Fucking Killers,” I announce and stand, wincing when I lift my left arm, causing the pain to shoot through me.
“Ah fuck, your wife is going to fucking kill me,” Acid grumbles, quickly grabbing the first aid kit. I sigh.
“Never mind killing you, she’s going to have my fucking balls. Her emotions are already all over the place lately with all therevelations between us, or have you not noticed she’s clumsier than fucking normal, which, for her, is dangerous as shit.”
He winces then inspects my arm as the prospects run over to the bodies, and my VP and their Road Captain rush my way.
“Fuck, the bullet is still in there; we need to get it out.” Acid curses, and I grumble while the brothers chuckle.
“Oh yeah, your wife is going to flip,” just hit my ears as Anchor, the Rebels’ Road Captain, grips my arm, as Acid digs to find the bullet, causing me to curse. Fuck, that shit hurts!
Hours later, we roll up to the club, Medic already waiting for us near the front door, his arms crossed, his hazel eyes looking at me with concern.
I lift my hand to him as I climb off my bike and confirm, “I’m alright, Acid dug the bullet out.”
He nods but says, “I still want to have a look, possibly stitch it up, and give you a shot of antibiotics as a precaution.”
I sigh but nod as I pass him, patting his back with my good arm.
“How was my wife?” I ask as we enter the common room, everyone standing around.
I put my hands up to everyone, knowing Anchor and Acid will fill them in on the shootout, where, thankfully, only the Killers were killed.
I head to my room, Medic following.
“She’s alright. There was no concussion, which is good. The bruise on her hip is quite nasty but it’ll heal in a few weeks, and she has a slight bruise on the side of her forehead.”
I groan at his words, making him laugh before guiding me to my bed. The picture of my wife grinning at the camera from college catches my eye.
I fucking miss her, which says a lot about our relationship and whether we’ll make it.
Yeah, we’re both fucked up, but we’re both willing to try.
I can’t lose her.
Medic checks my wound, confirming it needs stitching, making me sigh and accept the strong painkillers.
I groan, my head pounding, my arm throbbing. After taking the painkillers from Medic, I passed out, the tablets doing the job, but they always make me wake with a fucking hungover feeling, which is why I only take them when I have to.
Having a druggie mom make you become tolerant to pain….
I feel a body move against mine, a body I don’t fucking recognize, and my eyes fly open, only to connect with a very fucking naked Katie sprawled across my body, and anger as no other fills me.
“What the fuck!” I demand, and Katie grins before I hear a throat being cleared to my right, my head snapping to the doorway praying it’s a brother standing there only to see my wife, my fucking heart and soul leaning against the door frame, her eyes on the woman laying on me, naked, my blood brother looking pale behind her.
Fuck no, please no.
I swear, if she takes this the wrong way and runs, then I’m hunting her down and tying her to my fucking bed.