Page 136 of Praying for Thunder

Still holding her face, I stared at my piled jeans behind her head. I had never grabbed my own cell. That meant it was…

Brmmm. Brmmm.

Swallowing, I reached over Rya.

Leaning over her, expecting the roof to cave in on us, I answered, “Yeah.”

Diesel’s voice was shaking so violently with rage, I knew nothing would ever be the same. “Son, run.”

“I’m with—”

“I know who you’re with and where you are. So do they. Now take her and fucking run!”

TWENTY-TWO

EVERLASTING PIECES

As a child, finding Rya had been the leading event that saved me. Growing up with her, and seeing her every chance I got, kept me on the right side of ethics. But now, feeling she was in immediate danger, I was instantly ready to step over any line God, Jesus, or Mother Teresa wanted to draw in the sand of life.

It seemed Hellion was a part of me that was staying, no matter what Thunder wanted.

Hiding behind a tree near the graveyard, I was thankful for my asshole side. Gun palmed, I hovered and watched over Rya as she pulled on her shirt. I hadn’t given her the chance to fully dress. When a man like Diesel tells you to run, you fucking run and hope you live to ask questions later.

All I was wearing were my jeans and untied biker boots with my knife in my hand. I left my cut behind because I had no intention of ever wearing it again.

Hearing no crackling of leaves, I grabbed Rya’s hand and nodded.

So that I could face whatever attack was heading our way, she slowly walked us farther away. We were making our way to her stables so we could get on Sable and have a chance at outrunning danger.

I could really use that eagle right now. From above, maybe he could tell me where my enemy is.

Her bare feet made no noise. She was so at home in the woods, and I wish could say the same for my size twelves. Not seeing where she was leading me wasn’t helping, but I didn’t dare turn my back to the church, where someone would be looking for me, or looking for us. I wasn’t sure who was coming. If it was her family, at least she was safe. The same couldn’t be said for me since I just had disgraced their pride and joy, in a church, next to her mother’s grave.

Dear Lord, I’m an asshole.

If it was Titans or crooked cops, Rya and I were both in deep shit.

Behind another tree, we hid, listening…

Not hearing anything, I dared to take the time to give her a weapon. Placing my blade in her hand, I pressed her fingers around the hilt. I whispered, “If there’s no time, and you panic, just swing, baby. Swing, stab, and don’t stop until the person is dead. If you have time, get ‘em where it counts. An organ. Under the ribs or in the gut. A nice liver shot would rock.”

Rya’s hair sticking to her sweating face, and her eyes wide, she gave me a nod.

There was no time for words of love, but if I was facing death, I was going to taste her one more time. For a split second, I slammed my lips to hers.

Still not hearing anyone approaching, we continued on with her trying to get us to the stables, me facing any enemy coming from the church after learning we were no longer there.

Another tree… another descent.

When my back bumped into hers, I knew what it meant. Without a delay, I spun around, one arm going around her chest and yanking her back to me, my other arm over her shoulder, pointing my gun.

I saw nothing, but I trusted her alarm. It vibrated off her body like too many tadpoles stuck in one little pool of water.

When she took a step backward, I did, too, not daring to take my sight from where hers was glued.

“We have been spotted, brothers,” a man announced in a playful manner that made the hair on my arms stand.

Four bikers came out from behind trees. They weren’t Titans. Or Diesel’s men. Or Dio’s.