Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
"Wren can handle herself," I said. "You taught her well. And Honey..." I paused, surprised by the certainty I felt. "She stays with me."
I strode back to the women, my decision made. When I reached them, I took Honey's hand, pulling her close again.
"I need you inside," I told her, my voice low and urgent. "But not to hide. I need someone I trust watching our backs from the second floor window. You get eyes on any Copperhead trying to flank us, you call it out on this." I handed her a radio from my belt. "Can you do that for me?"
Her amber eyes widened, but there was no fear in them now. Only determination. "Yes."
I nodded, squeezing her hand before releasing it. "Wren, you're on the east side with Rivet. Keep Honey in sight when possible." Wren nodded, her purple hair whipping in the wind as she checked her weapon like a pro.
"Everyone to positions," I ordered into my radio. "They're coming back, and this time we're ready for them."
As my brothers moved with practiced efficiency to their assigned locations, I hurried Honey toward the main building. At the door, I paused, taking one last look at the destruction around us. Bodies of a couple fallen brothers and enemies alike littered the yard. The home we'd built reduced to a battlefield. This was a slight I was not about to let go.
I turned to Honey, my voice dropping to a whisper meant only for her. "Whatever happens next, stay alive. That's an order."
She nodded, reaching up to touch my face briefly. "You too. Or I will be supremely pissed."
I gave her a lopsided grin. “Yes ma’am.”
Then we were inside, the brief moment of tenderness submerged beneath the cold current of coming violence. I positioned Honey at the window with clear instructions, then moved to take my own place in the trap we'd laid.
The radio crackled. "Movement in the trees. They're coming."
The first Copperhead died before he cleared the tree line. One of my brothers put a bullet through his throat with a suppressed shot. Now that we’d had time to prepare, we were going to make as little noise as we could. The man dropped, clutching at the sudden fountain of blood erupting from his neck.
Gunfire rang out in the night as the Copperheads fired on us. A few of our guys used guns without suppressors, but most had made the transition. The crack crack crack of what sounded like a mix of nine mills and a couple of forty-fives combined with the deeper boom of at least one shotgun.
I pressed my back against the clubhouse wall and nodded to Bug. He checked in with everyone else via the radio, then gave me a nod. “Everyone’s in position.”
"Let’s kill these motherfuckers." I stood and fired at my target. My brothers followed suit and emerged from their hiding spots, catching the Copperheads in a deadly crossfire.
The yard transformed into a killing field. Bullets chewed up dirt and concrete, sprayed splinters from wooden posts, punched through metal with high pitched pings. The air grew thick with gunsmoke and the coppery reek of blood. A Copperhead rushed me, switchblade glinting. I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and drove my knee into his elbow. The joint snapped with a sharp crack, his scream cut short as I put two rounds in his head.
"East side, three coming over the fence!" Rivet's voice crackled through the radio.
"I see 'em," Wren responded. "On it."
I glanced that way just in time to see Wren drop to one knee, take aim, and fire three precise shots. Two Copperheads fell. The third made it over, only to catch a burst of automatic fire from Rivet's position.
Movement in the second story window caught my eye. Honey. She was exactly where I'd positioned her, shotgun braced against her shoulder as she kept watch. Her face was a mask of concentration, hair pulled back. For a split second, our gazes met across the chaos.
Then I saw it. A Copperhead scaling the drainpipe, heading straight for her window.
"Honey! Eight o'clock!" I shouted into the radio, already moving toward the building, knowing I'd never make it in time.
She whipped around, spotted the threat, and without hesitation, swung the shotgun toward the intruder. The blast was deafening even amid the firefight. The Copperhead's chest dotted with shot spray, blood staining his white T-shirt. His body tumbled back to the ground with a sickening thud.
Thank fuck!
I turned back to the clubhouse, needing to check on Honey, when the unmistakable roar of a Harley cut through the gunfire. A motorcycle burst through the smoke, engine screaming. The rider hunched low over the handlebars as he tore through the gate and into the yard. I recognized both bike and rider immediately. My bike. Stolen from where I'd left it by the gate. And Shank.