Page 118 of Trigger Happy Ending

My eyes slide to the private lift. Normally, there’s a security guard by the elevator. But not tonight. That’s odd.

I straighten behind the VIP bar, eyes fixated on the private elevator doors.

A ding before the doors open and hell comes marching in. A pack of what looks like a motorcycle gang (fuck, another one?), armed, pissed off, and seemingly on the hunt for something. Or someone. I have no idea how these fuckers got access to the private entrance in the basement, but I don’t have time to ponder it, because shit hits the fan immediately. I don’t even have time to press the panic button to Carson’s security detail.

Ava and Bianca erupt into terrified panic, screaming and scrambling for the stairs to make an exit, as do the patrons. One biker grabs Bianca, gives her a once-over and forcefully shoves her down the stairs.

“Find the bitch!” he roars.

I squint, trying to make out the patch. My heart pounds when I realize it’s another chapter of the Raptors MC. Oh, shit. I know who they’re hunting.

Me.

The one who slaughtered their entire New York chapter in the name of sweet, bloody revenge. But I’d made a giant mistake. I’d removed my balaclava. It was too late once I’d realized there was a surveillance camera.

Rookie error, Raine. So goddamn stupid.

“Hey!” I yell, climbing on top of the bar, whipping off my blonde wig and flinging it to the side. The bikers pause their destruction of the VIP floor and place all eyes on me. I must look a sight, all wild-eyed and vicious, standing on the bar, wearing a pair of black leather hot pants and cropped leather tank.

“You want me? Come and get me, you fucking pussies.”

I move, jumping off in front of the bar, squaring up for the fight of my life.

A gunshot rings out, smashing the bottles stacked behind the bar. Everyone stills, me included. I don’t have my firearm which is a major disadvantage in a dangerous situation like this. I don’t even have time to reach inside my boot for my hidden blades before a hulking beast makes his way towards me, dragging Ava by the hair, gun pressed to her temple. Her heels scrape along the floor as she struggles against his strength.

He holds her up in front of me. She’s scared, terrified, actually, trembling from fear.

“Angel,” she whimpers. “P-please. Help me.”

My eyes drop to hers. I want to tell her it’ll all be okay, but I don’t know if it will. The last time I told someone everything was going to be okay was to Cherry.

And we all know how that ended.

The men surround me, and I know I’ve got nowhere to go.

The one holding Ava captive talks. “You come with us, right fucking now, and I’ll let her go.”

I consider my options, and I’m out of any good ones. I’m unsure of how I’m getting out of this. Maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe this is how it ends for me. In a tornado of violence wearing a slutty outfit. All I know is no other innocent person is going to get hurt because of me. Not again.

Slowly, I raise my arms in surrender. “Let her go.”

They don’t waste a moment, they move fast. Ava is roughly tossed to the side, while a hand snatches me by the hair and yanks me back so hard my vision almost whites out. Pain rips through my skull at the force. I should twist, should fight back, but another hand wraps around my throat at the same time and slams me against the bar counter. The second man looms over me, his face shadowed by vengeance and a sick satisfaction. His fist crashes into my ribs, again, again, and again.

Listen, I’m a tough bitch. I can handle a beating. If it’s fucking fair.

But there isn’t anything fair about this.

I’ve got one guy holding me down, and another one beating the shit out of me while several others stand around in a semi-circle in case I somehow manage to find the strength to get away from these two monsters.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.

I claw at the hand that has a vise grip around my throat.

“Enough,” a different, gruff voice cuts through.

The man pummeling me stops, takes a step back. The one with his hand around my throat forces me to stand, holding me up by my neck, while the other hand restrains my arms behind my back.