Devil's Game

“And if he sees us?”

“Whoever he sees has to slow him down long enough for the other one to get away and find help,” I said, holding her gaze. I tried to impress my confidence on her, my belief that she could do what needed to be done. “No matter what it takes. And I’m going to be the one closest to him.”

“Why?”

“Because you have a kid. All other issues aside, Noah needs you and nobody needs me.”

That was unfortunately the truth, as much as it hurt to say it. Sure, my dad loved me, but I wasn’t a mother.

“Your family, the whole club, they all need you!” she protested.

“You know I’m right,” I said flatly, thinking of Noah’s little face. I’d only met him once, but he was a great kid. A kid who deserved a mother. I’d lost mine in high school and I’d be damned if I’d let it happen to Sophie’s boy. “Don’t even try to be noble here or something. If only one of us gets out, it’s you. Let’s not fight about it, okay?”

She nodded, still looking nervous but also more determined.

“Okay, promise me one thing,” she said. “You need to seriously try to get away. Don’t let yourself get caught or something just because you want to keep Hunter safe.”

I scowled at her. I wouldn’t do that . . . would I? No. Definitely not. I wasn’t stupid enough to throw away our safety just because some ass**le kissed me.

Oh wait—that’s what got us into this in the first place. Ugghh . . .

“Might as well go now,” I said, feeling a little deflated. “I’ll keep the knife, unless you know how to use it?”

“You mean to fight?” she asked, looking startled. I bit back a wildly inappropriate laugh. “Um, no. I didn’t take knife-fighting class in school. You can keep it.”

This time I did laugh.

• • •

We crept down the hallway together, pausing at the top of the stairs, my f**k-me heels clutched in my hand. They wouldn’t be much good for running, unfortunately. Not to mention the unholy racket they’d make on a wooden floor. At least Sophie had somewhat sensible shoes on, little fake boots with soft soles. I could hear Skid in the living room, either watching TV or playing video games. Hopefully the latter, since that would be more distracting.

“I’ll go down the stairs first,” I whispered. “Then I’ll wave you on. Be ready to go whatever direction I point you, based on where I see him. If I point back at the bedroom, go up and get yourself back into your handcuffs, okay? If I wave you on, that’s it. We’ll only get one shot, so don’t f**k it up. I’m counting on you to send help for me if I have to distract him.”

“I can do it,” she whispered back. “Let’s both get out, though, okay?”

I nodded at Sophie and started down very slowly. When I reached the bottom, I peeked around the side of the stairwell. Skid sat on the couch, facing away from us. Some sort of loud game filled a giant, flatscreen TV, the sounds of shots echoing around the room.

Perfect.

I touched Sophie’s hand. Then I pointed at myself and the front door. That was the route I’d take. I pointed at her and toward the back of the house.

She nodded tightly, her face determined.

Okay. Time to do it.

I held up three fingers and then counted down. Two. One.

Sophie slipped past me, walking quickly through the living room and into the back hallway.

Skid didn’t even pause in his shooting.

Holy shit. She’d done it. I decided to wait a few minutes before trying for the front door. Instead I studied it, and that’s when the plan started falling apart.

It had three locks, including two deadbolts.

Would I really be able to open those without making any noise? Probably not. Time to change it up . . . I’d wait a little longer and then go to the back.

But not until I was sure Sophie had a good head start.

Unfortunately, Skid turned off the video, set down the controller, and stood, stretching. Then he casually strolled over to the window and looked outside.

Sophie had shit luck, because she ran right past him.

I pulled out the Leatherman, flipped open the knife, and stepped out of the stairwell. Skid grabbed a gun off the coffee table and looked up to see me right as I launched myself toward him. I didn’t have any illusions that I could take him. I just needed to buy Sophie enough time to get away.

You know, I think I could’ve pulled it off if I’d had decent shoes I could run in.

Unfortunately, right as I launched myself toward him, my bare toe caught on my pant leg and I fell down heavily. The knife slid away from me, under the couch. I dropped the heels with a clatter.

Seriously?

Then Skid was standing over me, gun pointed at my head. Well, crap. Dad would definitely be disappointed in this particular performance . . . And Kit? She’d kick Skid’s ass just to clear a path to kick mine for being so uncoordinated. The worst part was I hadn’t even bought much time for Sophie.

If I survived, I was never wearing high heels again.

I stared up at Skid towering over me, trying to guess my next move. He didn’t seem too happy, which was fine with me. I wasn’t very happy, either. Somehow, I had to find some way to slow him down or Sophie was toast. I’d love to say that I was utterly selfless in my resolve to sacrifice myself for a friend, but in reality, she was my best shot at a rescue now that I’d been seen.

In the movies, this is where I would have slinked back, fluttered my eyelashes, and used the power of my sexuality to distract him. But frankly, my sexuality hadn’t been bringing great things into my life lately. I didn’t quite trust my instincts in that arena.

But my teeth? Those I trusted.

I pushed off from the stairwell wall with my feet, sliding across the wooden floor toward Skid like a missile, hoping to hell he wouldn’t actually shoot. My hands caught his ankle, shoving up his pant leg so I could lock my jaws around his flesh.

“Fuck!” he yelled as my teeth sank in. “You f**king cunt!”

I ignored him, biting down harder. He started kicking at me, and I held on tight, sliding back and forth across the floor as he thrashed his leg. I heard the gun c**k but I ignored it. I might be f**ked, but Sophie wasn’t. Utter determination took over and my brain held one thought, and one thought only.

Keep biting Skid’s leg.

That’s why I didn’t even notice when he pointed his weapon. The loud crack of a gunshot broke through my fog, but I didn’t feel any pain.

Huh. Must’ve missed me.

Blood filled my mouth as I dug deeper, wondering if I could sever his tendon if I tried hard enough. Probably not, I’d need to rip at him to make that happen . . .

That’s when he shot again, and this time I definitely felt pain.

Holy shit.

I’d never experienced anything like the trail of fire that ran across my thigh. Agony. At first I couldn’t get my jaw to unlock. Then he kicked again and I went flying, slamming into the wall with a scream. I lay there, stunned, watching blood seeping out of my leg.

Wait.

BLOOD WAS LEAKING OUT OF MY LEG.

I slapped my hands down, pressing hard against the wound in my upper thigh. That felt just as fabulous as you might imagine. Shit. Holy shit. Sweet baby Jesus!

“You shot me,” I whispered, stunned. Why this was such a surprise, I don’t know. Skid glared down and shook his head.

“What did you expect, you stupid f**king bitch? You f**king bit me. Christ, do you know how dirty a human mouth is? I’ll probably get sepsis.”

“Oh, I’m so f**king sorry that your ankle hurts,” I growled, my vision blurring. “I’d kiss it all better if I wasn’t busy trying to keep the blood inside my body!”

He raised the gun and pointed it right at me.

“What the f**k Hunter sees in you I cannot imagine,” he told me. “But listen up. You got one pass. You f**k with me again, I’ll shoot you in the head and tell him you made me do it. I’ll sleep like a baby afterward, too. Got me?”

I nodded, remembering a little too late that I shouldn’t be pissing off the guy with a gun.

That’s when the doorbell rang.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Skid and I looked at each other.

“Keep your f**king mouth closed,” he hissed. That sent a surge of hope through me. He wasn’t expecting anyone . . . Rescuers? If it was Reapers, great. But what if it was some random person, or a kid? My thoughts started spinning . . . Skid could kill them.

I couldn’t just lie here like a lump, bleeding. I had to do something.

“Who’s out there?” he yelled.

Nothing.

The doorbell rang again.

“Fuck off!” he yelled, turning toward the door. I lunged at his knees from behind, hoping to knock him down. Miraculously, he crashed to the floor, dropping the gun. We wrestled over it briefly as the doorbell started ringing again, over and over. I was nowhere near as strong as Skid, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when he shoved me away and got to his feet. My head hit the wall, sending sickening waves of pain down along my spine.

“You are f**king dead if you make a noise, cunt. I’m through with you,” Skid hissed.

He stomped to the door, beyond furious. Then he threw it open and Sophie smashed a wooden chair over his head.

Wow, didn’t see that coming.

I jumped up as his gun fired, adrenaline killing the pain in my leg and skull. The chair crashed into him again. Skid roared and lunged forward. I knew this was it—either we’d win or we’d die. I attacked him from behind, throwing myself on his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and jerking him backward with my full weight. He staggered as I bit his ear, worrying at it like a dog.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sophie grab another chair and go for his legs.

This definitely wasn’t the plan.

No time to worry about that now. Skid screamed as he staggered forward, falling off the porch face-first into the dirt. I rode him down and then Sophie was there, kicking him over and over. He managed to roll to the side, which was a huge mistake, because it gave her a clear shot at his crotch.

She attacked his balls viciously, and his screeching cries of pain filled the air. That didn’t slow her down in the least. Over and over she kicked him, her face twisted with hate. He stopped struggling, and I realized he’d passed out.

I don’t know if it was from pain or if I’d managed to cut off his air. Sophie grabbed the gun, handing it off to me. I pointed it at Skid’s bloodied body, panting.

“Go upstairs and grab the cuffs,” I managed to say. “We’ll get him tied up and then call for help.”

Sophie took off, and I held the gun on him the whole time she was gone, hoping like hell he wouldn’t wake up. I was prepared to shoot—but that didn’t mean I wanted to . . .

It wasn’t because I was scared to kill another human being. Of course, the thought sickened me. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my talk with Liam, and everything he’d said about the truce and the cartel. Maybe he’d been lying to me—I certainly wouldn’t put it past him . . . But what if he’d been telling the truth? If he was, killing Skid would ruin the peace and sooner or later the cartel would come after the Reapers.

We needed him alive.

Sophie returned with the cuffs. Strangely, she also had a bedsheet and a knife from the kitchen. Together we wrestled Skid’s limp body over to the porch pillar and fastened his hands around it.

I felt the tension in my chest loosen, and I looked up at Sophie and grinned.

“You don’t listen very well when you’re told to run, do you?”

She smirked.

“I guess not,” she said. “I heard the shot and knew you were in trouble. I just couldn’t leave you—it didn’t feel right.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think you might’ve saved my life. Not sure if he would’ve killed me or not.”

She held up the sheet.

“You want me to bandage that leg up for you?” she asked. I looked down at my leg. Sure enough, blood still oozed out, although not much of it at this point. Damned if I hadn’t forgotten about it during the fight. God bless adrenaline.

Everything immediately started hurting again.

“Yeah, might be a good idea,” I said. “Obviously it’s not life threatening, but wow . . . I can’t believe I got shot.”

She glanced at me and cocked her head.

“Can I ask a crazy question?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I think we’re past being formal with each other at this point.”

“How often does this happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“How often do people get kidnapped, or shot, or whatever? In the club, I mean.”

My eyes widened.

“Um, never?” I said. “I mean, I’m sure men have gotten shot. But not anyone in our chapter, at least not that I know of. Not related to the club, at least. One of the brothers, Bagger, died in Afghanistan last year. But seriously, this is not normal shit.”

She sighed and used the knife to cut the edge of the sheet. Then she tore it into a long strip and started wrapping my leg.

“Glad to hear that,” she murmured, frowning. “But even this is too much. I can’t take this. Noah can’t have this in his life.”

“Well, now isn’t the time to try and figure all that out,” I said, trying to calm her down. I could see a hint of crazy in her eyes, a delayed reaction now that we were safe. I didn’t want her melting down on me, at least not until we got out of here.

“I need to find his phone,” I said to distract her. “Got to call Dad, get him out here. For all we know, there’s fifty Devil’s Jacks on their way.”