Temperance: Biker Romance (The Davis Chapter Book 2) (9 page)

The crickets were driving me crazy. The night was dark and silent except for them. They seemed to be mocking us with their chatter. I knew I was being paranoid, but every little sound was setting me off. My heart hadn’t slowed in hours, and I suspected it wouldn’t for hours to come.

Bandit and I sat in his car just down the road from Blythe Estate; the house I told myself I’d never set foot in again. There were one hundred things I’d rather do sitting in the car beside Bandit. Ninety-nine of those things involved him tearing my clothes off. Instead, we were wearing all black and packing heat.

It wasn’t fight or flight anymore. It was kill or be killed. If Conrad hadn’t brought my mother into things, Kyle and I might be halfway to Mexico or traveling east at a restful pace. Instead, I was heading back into the house of my nightmares. I had no fear about the Rising Sons losing, though. I don’t know why, but I had complete confidence in the biker gang. Alcatraz, Thunder, Trask, and Stache already felt like heroes to me. It was Bandit who had me worried.

Call it women’s intuition or just the fear of losing him again, but I had a terrible feeling. Sitting beside him was only making things worse. Every second that we sat next to each other felt like one second closer to us being split apart for good this time.

“Are you sure you don’t want a gun?” Bandit gave my thigh a soft squeeze.

I shook my head. Before Conrad, I had squeezed off a round or two with Kyle and his family. I didn’t dislike guns, but it just never got me going. Besides, firing at the paper target couldn’t have been different from firing at a person. I was the tour guide; nothing more.

He nodded. “Okay, but stay close. Be ready to drop to the ground or run for it if I say so.” Even in the darkness, he must’ve seen my face. “I mean it, Celeste. If I tell you to go, you don’t hesitate for one split second. Promise me.”

“I promise.” Living with Conrad for a year had taught me how to lie quite well.

Despite my protests against wearing a radio, I had one in. Bandit had insisted and I understood his reasons. If I was inside the house and the other team needed info, I had to be able to talk to them.
 

There was a quick blink of static before Trask’s voice whispered into mine and everyone else’s ear, “One minute.”

Counting the seconds would’ve been pointless. In the near darkness, there was no frame of reference. I counted my heartbeats instead. Losing count around thirty, I knew it was too fast to compare to a minute. It felt like an eternity and an instant collided head-on.

I expected to hear Harleys fire up around us at any moment. Bandit didn’t move to my left. Closing my eyes, I told myself we’d ride in his muscle car or with our legs around his Harley many more times after that night.

“Love you.” His words snapped my eyes open. “Always have. Always will.”

Before I could reply, he turned the keys, bringing the ferocious engine to life. I thought about shouting over to him, but Bandit dropped the car into gear and was on the throttle with everything he had. My hand was back at the door handle, holding on with all of my strength.

The tires screamed on the pavement as we pulled from the dirt. We picked up speed like a rocket was strapped to the roof. I thought I heard the deep rumble of a motorcycle behind us, but it was hard to tell. I didn’t think my voice would come to me when we needed it the most, but it did, “On the right. Just past that fallen tree trunk.”

Bandit was in total control of his car. It was just like all the rides we used to take on his Harley. I knew he sped through the winding backroads, but we never felt out of control. Bandit could drive like the devil was on his tail while making it feel as smooth as a Sunday cruise.
 

There was nothing smooth about the bump where the driveway met the road. It had been bad the night before in my Lexus, but the classic car was heavier. The front came down with a painful metallic thud. It lurched up, pinning me to the seatbelt. While the nose of the car was still in the air, Bandit threw on the headlights.

The gate stood before us, daring us to try. With brick pillars on either side, I wondered if we even could get through. My man had all the confidence in the world. As soon as the car was stable on four wheels, he was back on the throttle. I clenched every muscle in my body as we drew closer to the gate.

The second that the car impacted the metal, the gate folded forward. I had prepared myself for a hard hit, but there wasn’t one. As the metal bounced forward, the windshield spidered. One headlight dropped away, but Bandit didn’t let up. Maybe it was the speed, or maybe it was the gate. Whatever it was, we were through.

Single headlights fired up behind us. I turned back to see the pickup truck pulling alongside us. Stache was in the driver seat with Trask crouched in the bed, holding onto a light bar. I could see the glow of the mansion through the trees, and as Bandit manhandled the car around the turns, Stache slammed on the brakes as the trees gave way.

Bandit had the injured car pointing directly at the mansion. My focus was on the carriage house. Security was probably alerted the second we smashed through the gate. I could picture them scrambling for their guns and radios. The carriage house looked still, and that worried me. If they weren’t already coming out to fight us, where were they?

My eyes shot back and forth from the mansion to the carriage house. Panic was rising inside of me. I would have felt more comfortable to see men in front of us, guns drawn. The absolute stillness was bad news. Was it an ambush?

My grip grew tighter as the fear and questions swam over me. Then I saw the spark of headlights from one of the dark garages. The sharp blue headlights of the Land Rover seemed to be aiming straight for us. It lurched from its cage, confirming my fears.

I raised my hand, and Bandit nodded. “I see ‘em. Let Stache and Trask handle them.”

A shot ring out, and a feint flash of white appeared at the windshield. The shot was true, dead center of the driver’s side. The Land Rover didn’t lose any speed, though. It made a very lazy turn off to my right. The Rover moved from the pea gravel to the golf-quality grass. A gun appeared from the passenger side, and I ducked.

Bandit cut the wheel hard, sliding the back end around just as the guards passed us. The rear of our car contacted the Rover, the shock throwing me against the door. The sounds of glass and metal giving up surrounded us. Gunshots rang out. I kept my head down, and Bandit kept his foot on the throttle. The lights grew above me, and I knew we were under the columns at the front entrance to the large house.

As he slammed on the brakes, we hit something. The object rolled up the windshield. I had an idea of what it was, but I didn’t want to think about that. The car came to a halt, and when I looked up, the front door was directly to my right. Bandit couldn’t have parked it better if he tried.

He threw the door open, but grabbed onto my hand when I reached for mine. “Wait. Let me clear this entryway first.” Then he was outside. I stayed low, hearing deep engines and gunshots behind me. My mouth was beyond dry, preventing me from fully swallowing. I couldn’t blink for fear of missing something. I stared into the mirror on the driver’s side. Guards were coming forward, machine guns up and flashing out.

The car lurched to the side as a body flew against it; then another. I spun around to see Bandit shoved against his car, large hands around his neck. I screamed.
 

The guard had fire in his eyes as he stared Bandit down. I tried to push the door open and help him, but his weight kept it closed. Bandit threw a hard punch into the guard’s stomach, but the hands didn’t move from his throat.

He struggled, and the two of them rolled down the car. Bandit slammed the guard down on the hood, breaking the hands at his neck. My man landed blow after blow, but the guard brought a leg up, catching Bandit between the legs. I turned to climb over and out the driver’s side. I had to do something.

As Bandit doubled over, I climbed into the driver’s seat. Looking back, the guard reached through the window and grabbed at my foot. He yanked me, and I let out another scream. I never learned any of the guards’ names, but I knew him. In my head, he was Sergei. Sergei always eyed me in a way that wrapped an icy blanket around my body. I’d never seen him even come close to smile, and he wasn’t then, either.

The scars from burns at his neck always scared me, and the hatred in his eyes only made things worse. My back scraped against the gearshift as he pulled me towards him. I kicked and grabbed at anything inside the car to get away. My other foot twisted and looped into the release. The door popped open just a hint.

I kicked at the door with my free leg. Putting every bit of strength into it, the door swung open, catching Sergei in the jaw. He let go of my foot the second the door connected with his jaw. A low grunt came from his mouth, along with some blood. I saw his head dip, and I slammed into the door with both feet again. The door came to a dead stop when it impacted his head, and Sergei crumpled.

Bandit crawled up the hood in time to see Sergei drop. “God damn, girl.” Blood streamed down one side of his face, but he smiled.

I panted and my legs shook, but I took his hand as he pulled me from the car. “Always hated that fucker.”

Even as he gasped for breath, Bandit laughed. He reached down and picked up his gun. Shots rang out behind us. A few bikes pulled up to the front door. Thunder and Lucky skidded to a halt, one of them coming to rest at the first large step leading up to the doors. Bandit pulled me towards the mansion, and just as I turned, another guard stepped through the front door. He had a small machine gun pointed right at me, and a sadistic grin on his face.

The loud crack of a shot rang out, and the smile was literally wiped from his face. He twitched for a second before slumping down the tall front door. He squeezed off a few shots as his body gave out. Bullet holes appeared in Bandit’s already aching car. My man barely reacted. He didn't seem to give a fuck who killed the guard, just that someone did. As we ascended the stairs with other Rising Sons beside us, Bandit turned to me. “Sure you don’t want a gun?”

Bandit was right. It was obvious that things were too dangerous to be unarmed. There was no way I was going to take something like an automatic rifle, though. He handed me his pistol and took the dead guard’s weapon. After threading his arm through the strap, Bandit stepped over the body. I followed.

“Carriage house clear, moving to main target.” Alcatraz’s voice crackled in my ear, and it was a sort of kick back into reality. I had tuned it out while the guns were firing non-stop, but as we entered the mansion, a silence crept over the Blythe Estate.

I told myself it was a good thing. There were no biker screaming out over the radios, and no reports of anyone injured. Things were swinging in our favor. The attack had caught Conrad’s men off guard.

Somehow the mansion seemed emptier and more desolate than ever. There was always a stale silence about it, but when I stepped into the foyer with Bandit, it was a rotting silence that seemed to burn my nose. It was as if Conrad and the mansion were attacking my senses. I wanted him gone.