Reapers MC: Devil's Game Part 39

"Give me the phone," he said again. I shook my head.

"Let me finish talking to Dad," I told him. "Then I'll hand it over."

Hunter nodded tightly, but I saw the muscles in his jaw clench.

"Like I said, come straight to the Armory," Dad continued. "We don't know that it's the Devil's Jacks, but if it is, you're a valuable hostage. We've been through this before. I love you, Em. I loved your mother, too, so I know what it's like to care about someone so much it hurts-I think that's how you feel about Hunter. I hope to f.u.c.k he feels the same about you. But I need to get you away from him, get you somewhere safe until we figure things out."

"Dad ..." I whispered. I glanced at Hunter again and tried to think of how to say what needed to be said without kicking off the d.a.m.ned war all by myself.

"I'll protect him, Em," my father told me, apparently reading my mind. "I know you might not believe it, but I'll make sure he gets through this alive, so long as he brings you home. If he gets hurt, it'll be because of something he does, not because of who he is. I swear this, baby."

"I'm giving the phone to Hunter now," I said slowly.

"Promise me, you'll come to the Armory?"

"I'll let you know where we're headed once we figure that out," I replied, feeling my eyes tear up. s.h.i.t. This was happening so fast.

"Okay, pa.s.s me off to him."

I handed over the phone, then watched as my man's face slid into that horrible blankness I'd seen when he faced off against Deke.

"I understand," he said. "We're coming, don't worry. I want her safe as much as you do."

Then he hung up the phone.

"We're going to the Armory," he said, his voice almost expressionless. "There's at least one shooter. I'm sure they suspect the Jacks-we know someone's trying to start trouble in Coeur d'Alene. He's not one of ours, Em. Part of my job this weekend was to hunt him down."

My heart clenched.

"So this is actually a business trip for you?" I asked, feeling small.

"No," he replied. "This s.h.i.t came up after I asked Burke about visiting your family. If something happens to me, you need to convince your dad to at least talk to Burke before they do anything. Someone's working very hard to turn us against each other. Don't let them play you, okay?"

I swallowed.

"Okay," I said. "Are you sure you want to go to the Armory? Dad says he'll protect you, but he's just one person."

Hunter gave a short, harsh laugh, then looked over at me. He reached over and touched my cheek.

"The Armory is the safest place I can think of right now," he said. "This isn't the army we're up against. It's one or two shooters, and that place was built to withstand a h.e.l.l of a lot worse. Your sister is already there, and I guess most of the other women are, too. f.u.c.k of a way to start the holiday."

I reached down and grabbed my purse, pulling out my little black semiautomatic. I checked the magazine before setting it in my lap.

Then I glanced back over at Hunter. To my surprise, he was smiling.

"Best f.u.c.kin' old lady ever," he muttered, shaking his head.

"No, that was my mom."

"Love you, babe."

"I love you, too."

Guess we didn't need another conversation topic after all.

Things fell to s.h.i.t about three miles after we turned off the main highway headed north. The sun had just set, and the frozen rain had covered everything, leaving a sheen of ice across the road. G.o.d, I hated driving on ice.

I knew there were probably guys stationed at the turnoff to the Armory, but I didn't see any of them. I'd texted Dad with our ETA and Hunter's license plate number, so hopefully they were just letting us pa.s.s through because they recognized us. I knew they'd call it in, though, which meant we'd hit the point of no return.

"Slide your seat forward, Em," Hunter said as we started up the winding road. I slid forward, and then he reached around behind my seat. I heard the sound of Velcro tearing open, and then I felt his hand against my back, inside the cushions.

He pulled out a large handgun.

"Hold this for a sec," he said. Then he reached over again and dug around some more, this time bringing up two spare magazines.

"Okay, you're good to scoot back. Take a look for me?"

I dropped the magazine and examined it. Fully loaded, all good. I popped it back in and chambered a round. He tucked it down between the seats after I handed it to him.

"You know, Dad would never trust me to check his gun."

"He sees you as a little girl," Hunter replied, his eyes darting back and forth across the road. "I see you as a competent adult, one I trust. Big difference. Something feels off here."

I shivered, thinking he was right. The weather was forcing us to drive way too slow. f.u.c.king ice.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and the truck careened to the right.

"c.r.a.p," Hunter grunted, fighting the wheel as the truck lurched to the side. At first I thought we'd just blown a tire. Never a good thing, but not the end of the world. Then there was another loud bang, and the front end collapsed. Two tires out, I realized. We slid abruptly toward the edge of the road, Hunter cursing steadily, but there was just too much ice. I braced myself as the truck skidded off the embankment, rolling down the side of the hill and smashing into a tree. Air bags exploded as the truck flipped over onto its side, pa.s.senger window pointing toward the sky.

Sudden horrible silence filled the cab.

It all happened so f.u.c.king fast. I couldn't quite breathe and my heart was exploding with adrenaline.

"s.h.i.t," I muttered, pushing the bag away from my face. G.o.d, something smelled horrible. Like burning. "What happened?"

Hunter didn't answer. I blinked, trying to get my bearings. My eyes were watering and I couldn't quite see. The seat belt held me suspended on my side, the position painfully uncomfortable. I reached up and rubbed my eyes, which didn't help, and realized that the air itself was hurting my lungs.

Flopping my hand around, I found the window control and pushed it, the battery miraculously still working. The window rolled down into the door and a rush of cold air came in. I took a deep breath. Thank G.o.d, I could breathe again. Unfortunately, with the fresh air came cold, freezing rain.

"Hunter?" I whispered. Nothing. I looked down at him and gasped. A shattered tree stump had smashed up through the driver-side window, the remains splintered into sharp spikes of wood. It was less than an inch from the front of Hunter's face, and I saw blood trickling out of his nose. Branches and pine needles were everywhere, so many I could hardly see him. They filled his entire half of the cab.

"Babe?" I asked slowly. I reached down and touched his shoulder. He shifted his head and moaned. Alive. Thank G.o.d, because if that thing had been one inch closer, it would've gone right through his skull. I reached down and felt his neck, finding a strong pulse. Okay.

Now what?

I shook my own head, forcing myself to focus. I needed to call for help, but my purse had gone flying. Where the h.e.l.l was my phone? I couldn't see it anywhere, and I'd smashed his last night. d.a.m.n it. That's what I got for having a temper tantrum. Then I spotted my purse down in the footwell.

But how to get it? I reached down with my left hand and braced my body against the side of Hunter's seat, then unclicked my seat belt with my right, holding on to the strap like a jungle vine for balance. Slowly I slid down into my footwell, kneeling on the side by the center console.

Hunter stirred again.

"Em?" he asked, his voice rough.

"I'm fine, babe," I said, looking down at him. His eyes were open now, and I tried to see his pupils. Were they the same size? That's when I realized the radio was still playing ... I reached up and turned on the light, and we both flinched from the sudden brightness.

"Look at me," I said. His head turned, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Pupils were fine, and he seemed to be getting more alert every second. Must've hit just enough to knock him out, but hopefully nothing serious.

"We had an accident," I explained, my voice shaking. "I don't know what happened-I think we lost a couple tires, maybe? Then we hit ice."

"Someone shot out the tires," Hunter said. He started squirming in his seat, trying to move his arms, but the stump and branches held him completely trapped. "One tire blowing, I can see. But two? That's someone who knows their s.h.i.t. We need to a.s.sume they're outside, Em. Have to get ready for them. Start by turning off the light. No reason to give them an easier target than we have to."

I froze, eyes wide. I hadn't quite processed the whole shooting thing, but of course this wasn't an accident. Not good. Not good at all.

"This really sucks," I whispered, then realized how ridiculously inadequate that was, given the situation. s.h.i.t. I turned off the light and started fumbling in the darkness for my purse. It fell open and I nearly lost the phone. I caught it right before it fell, but unfortunately I dropped the purse in the process.

Hunter watched the whole time, frustration written all over his face.

"Call your dad. The club can get here faster than anyone else, and they'll have the best shot of dealing with whoever's out there, too."

"What about an ambulance?" I asked.

"I'm fine," he said, twisting in his seat uncomfortably.

"That's what people usually say right before the brain hemorrhage kills them. You need a hospital."

"Em," he said, his voice firm. "Stop talking to me and call your dad. Now. Then I want you to find my gun and get ready to protect yourself while I try to work myself loose. f.u.c.kin' tree."

My hands shook a little as I dialed my father's number, but I forced myself to stay calm. Our lives depended on me not falling apart, no matter how scary the situation had gotten.

"Yeah?"

"Dad, it's Em," I said. "We're about four miles from the Armory, and we're in trouble. Hunter's truck went off the embankment by the railroad tracks, on the south side of the road. I need you to get here fast."

"Ambulance?"

"Hunter says no," I said, glancing down at him again. His color was good, so that was something. "Someone shot our tires. That means they're out there right now, they're close, and they know what they're doing. I need to hang up and grab my gun now."

I shoved the phone into the console. Now what? My gun was in the purse, which had disappeared into the ma.s.s of branches and pine needles.

"My gun should still be down between the seat and the console. I have a holster built in."

I started digging around, and sure enough, the gun I'd checked for him before was still there. I pulled it out carefully, checking the magazine one more time out of habit before I c.o.c.ked it. Then I pulled myself up and tried looking out through the windshield.

More branches, everywhere.

That was a good thing, I realized. We had decent cover.

"Should I climb out my window, you think? Look around?"

"No," Hunter muttered. "Just stay down in the footwell. Our best bet is to hide and wait for the cavalry."

"I'm a good shot," I told him, refusing to acknowledge the panic I felt welling up into the back of my throat. Calm down, I told myself firmly. You can lose it later, once we're safe.

"It's dark, there's freezing rain, and all you have is a handgun," Hunter replied, his voice dry. "n.o.body's a good shot under those conditions. Just stay low, sweetheart. I'm gonna try and get loose, but I'm thinkin' they'll have to cut me out of this one. If I die in this truck, don't tell Skid I got my a.s.s kicked by a tree, okay?"

I snorted, then giggled. Obviously he'd lost his mind. I tried to stay quiet but another giggle broke free. Then Hunter stuck out his tongue at me, and I laughed out loud, tears rolling down my face.

"You're crazy," I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

"Maybe," he said, giving me his crooked smile. "But nothing burns off tension like a laugh. You think you can reach my seat belt?"

I leaned out of the footwell and dug around through the pine needles, ducking my head down to get a better look. In that instant, a bullet punched through the windshield into the pa.s.senger seat, pa.s.sing through right where I'd been just seconds before.

I froze.

"G.o.ddammit," Hunter said, suddenly thrashing to get free. "Holy f.u.c.k, I cannot believe this."

I fumbled for his seat belt urgently. c.r.a.p. c.r.a.p. Just because I knew how to shoot a gun didn't mean I was ready for a f.u.c.king firefight. Another shot tore through the gla.s.s, this time closer to Hunter's head. So much for all that cover ... Or were they just shooting randomly? I couldn't figure out how they could possibly see us.

"Back in the footwell," Hunter ordered, and his voice didn't leave any room for negotiation. "Keep the gun handy. I don't know if you'll get a chance to shoot, but if you do, I want you ready."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, a sniper's not gonna come in close unless he has to," Hunter said. "Which means ideally-from his perspective-you're dead without ever making eye contact. Right now this one doesn't have a clear target, so that's in our favor. We just need to hold on for a couple minutes, until the Reapers get here."

Another bullet came through, winging Hunter's ear.

"f.u.c.k," he muttered as blood started pouring out.

I gave a sobbing gasp.

"Emmy, you have to hold your s.h.i.t together," he said, his voice sharp. "I love you, babe. I can't hide or defend myself, so I need you safe in that footwell. Then if he hits me you're alive to save me. Hold your s.h.i.t together for me, sweetheart. I need you to hold it together."

I took a deep breath and nodded, although I knew he was lying again. If the sniper hit him, it would be a headshot-Hunter wouldn't have a chance. He was just trying to protect me. Ridiculous. Like a footwell would stop a bullet, anyway? I racked my brain, trying to think of some way to protect us.

This was insane-I had to do something or we'd die out here. I looked up through the rain at the open pa.s.senger window. We needed a distraction. I eased out of my hidey-hole.

"Stay down, Em," Hunter said, his voice cracking like a whip. I ignored him, checking the gun to make sure it was ready. All good. I slid into position expecting another shot to hit any second, crouching with one foot on the side of Hunter's seat and the other on the inside wall of the well. I counted to three, then popped up and shot four times into the darkness.

I dropped back down, gasping.

Hunter blew up.

"What the f.u.c.k was that about?"

"I want him to know we're armed," I said. "Playing possum only works if they don't know what they're doing. I'll bet a hundred dollars his orders are to make d.a.m.ned sure we're dead, and I'm not just going to sit and wait for some a.s.shole to put a bullet in my brain."

"He could've shot you, Em."