Beetle cleared the bathroom and then stood sentinel outside the door while I used the facilities. I had no idea how women of other cultures moved around or didanythingin those massive dresses. They looked uncomfortable as fuck, and it was bad enough that I had no control over my bladder. Why would I want to fight with my clothing in my rush to relieve myself too?
I tried to be quick, knowing I had about a hundred people waiting on me to take a piss. But my son had other plans, so I decided to stay an extra minute instead of risking stopping the wedding for a second time. I was washing my hands when I heard an odd shuffling outside the door, followed by a clatter.
The ladies’ room door slammed open as Beetle’s body collapsed backwards onto it. He landed hard on the floor, completely unconscious. Due to his lack of clothing, I immediately saw the gaping, bloody wound in the center of his chest. The odd clatter I heard must have been from the spanking paddle falling to the floor at his feet.
I screamed, moving toward him, when two men stepped over Beetle’s bleeding body and into the bathroom. Both held guns with silencers. I didn’t know what surprised me more—the fact that they were dressed like the wait staff at the restaurant or that neither man was Hawai‘ian.
The one on my right was shorter than me, with light skin and long, raven hair tied up in a bun. His features hinted at some Asian blood, and his face tattoos indicated he’d spent a fair amount of time in prison. His partner was Latino or Mexicanwith a beefier build and a more rugged appearance. He held his gun to the side, like a thug in a B-rated action movie.
“Our boss would like to have a word with you,” the taller one demanded, pointing the muzzle of his gun directly at my belly.
I highly doubted they were referring to the restaurant’s owner.
Normally, I would not have complied so easily. I was not some helpless damsel who needed rescuing, but my every instinct screamed to protect my baby. If I resisted, if I fought, there was nothing to keep them from shooting me. I might survive—it was doubtful my son would.
My eyes landed on Beetle on the floor at their feet. I couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive, and the silencers on the guns suggested a blitz attack. He never even stood a chance. Tears streamed down my face, but for an entirely different reason than only a few minutes ago. My wedding ring felt heavy on my finger. Would I die before I was officially married?
I was in my wedding dress, and my phone was in my dressing room. I had no way of calling out for help, no way of warning Aloiki or having Neo track me.
I nodded, not wanting them to get trigger happy. What about the other staff? Where were they? Had they killed them too? Who were they? Who was their boss? My mind whirled with questions as fear laced my blood. I tried to push past it, tried to think clearly. I needed to get out of this bathroom so I could try to call out for help, try to get someone’s,anyone’s, attention?
“Move it, bitch!” the smaller man ordered forcefully.
My feet refused to move at first, I suddenly wore slippahs made of lead. My eyes kept drifting to Beetle, hoping for any signs of life as I moved around his still body. I knew he had gotten his road name from his job as an entomologist, but had never socialized with him as I had the patched members, most of whom I’d known before the club was formed.
Yet this man had taken a bullet, maybe more than one, because he stood between these men and me. It felt wrong to leave him, to see so much blood coating the tile floor under him andnottry to help him. But what could I do?
One of the men pushed me when I wasn’t moving fast enough, and my feet slipped out from under me. I flailed helplessly, catching myself on the doorframe before I tumbled to the floor next to Beetle.
Once in the hall, I thought to run, to scream, but a tight hand gripped my hair, stopping that thought in its tracks. The cold metal of a gun rested under my chin as they wrenched my head backward. My hair orchid landed on the floor next to Beetle’s spanking paddle.
“Scream, and I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your belly.” The Latino man lowered the gun from my chin to my side, digging the muzzle to the point of pain.
I nodded my compliance, fear for my son leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, but my eyes still searched for signs of the restaurant’s staff. The place was deserted. I didn’t even see the DJ we had hired or our camera crew, who should have been here by now to set up. Kiana, our wedding planner, would have met them while we had the ceremony.
Of all the stupid things to cross my mind just then, the fact that the photographers had likely caught my hasty escape to the bathroom sent embarrassment coursing through me.
The man gripping my hair half dragged, half walked me out the front door. The confidence he had that we wouldn’t run into anyone was terrifying. What had he done with everyone? Were they all dead? I hadn’t seen any bodies, but we’d also only crossed through one part of the restaurant. What if they’d taken them into the kitchen and then shot them execution style, one by one?
The afternoon sunlight shone down on me. I couldn’t get into whatever vehicle they had waiting for me, but the gun in my side kept my mouth clamped closed. How did I protect my son? I was too awkward to run, too unbalanced. They’d likely shoot me in the back before I got even a few feet away.
They led me farther from the beach, rounding the corner to the side of the restaurant. We chose this location was because of its seclusion, compared to other venues. The beach front property was down a dirt road, surrounded by foliage rather than tourism. The large parking lot had plenty of space for the number of motorcycles and vehicles in attendance, and the owner was a customer of the club’s brewery.
We rounded a corner—and my captors stopped short. A rusted, navy blue panel van was parked haphazardly amongst a slew of motorcycles. Between it and me were at least fifteen Royal Bastards, some smoking, some not.
My eyes widened as all the talking ceased, and as one, they all turned to face me. I had never been so scared or relieved in my life as cigarettes, cigars, and blunts were dropped to the ground and iron was pulled from waistbands, shoulder holders, and boots.
Smoke, the President of the Tijuana, Mexico, chapter, stood in front. Next to him was Maverick, the President from Atlanta, King, the VP from Detroit, and Pink, the President from St. Louis. My emotions on hyperdrive, I took in the grim expressions on all of them, bouncing from member to member in the span of a single second. Tick Tock, the SAA from New Orleans, and Reese, the SAA from Kansas City, as well as Capone and his friend Aero, from Atlantic City. Creed from Jacksonville towered over most of them in the back, and I caught sight of Lynx from Canada and Hurricane from Yonkers beside him. A few of them had their women beside them, but they were quickly ushered to the back of the pack.
I wasn’t entirely sure what possessed me, but I threw my elbow backward. I didn’t care what part of my captor I hit, I just wanted to force his gun away from my belly. Something crunched and hot liquid splattered across the side of my face, down my neck, and over mypareo.But I ignored it. The second I felt the metal of his gun pull away from my belly, I dropped gracelessly to the pavement, catching myself first on my hands and knees before rolling onto my side. Gravel and road debris from the parking lot bit into my skin as I folded myself over my belly, bringing my legs up and ducking my head below my hands.
I covered my ears, expecting to hear a barrage of bullets, like fireworks in the night. Instead, a distinctly familiar voice in a low, Californian accent snapped, “Don’t even think about it, motherfuckers.”
I peeked my right eye open and looked up in time to see the smaller of the two men drop his gun to the pavement. He raised his hands as he lowered to his knees. But the bigger man, the one who had held his gun to my belly and now bore a bloody nose, hesitated. My heart hammered in my chest, fear renewing, as I watched indecision flicker across his face.
A terrifying war cry filled the air. I flinched, reclosing my eyes and burying my face under my hands and arms, as the sound of flesh colliding with flesh echoed through the parking lot. Seconds later, hands gripped my shoulders as the obvious signs of fighting continued. I jumped, and on reflex, looked up to see Bacon kneeling over me. The man looked fucking pissed.
The relief I felt at seeing Bacon relaxed me, and I dropped my hands. My baby was safe. If Bacon was here, then so was?—
