Saving Dancer (Savage Brothers MC #2)(45)

“I don’t f*cking know how they knew where the alarms were, I just know he disabled the entire f*cking system. I’ll make heads roll about that later. For now we got bigger f*cking fish to fry, you feel me?”

“Fuck, please tell me Crush got the sons of bitches.”

“Crush was in the garage and the two men split up and surrounded it. They both went in, and when they came back out there was no sign of Crusher.”

“Fuck!” I yell.

“We’re on our way, but you need to get Six and get your ass out there. You’re closer. Watch your back, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“You call Six, he’s already in the club. I’m not waiting. I’m heading out now.”

Dragon’s arguing when I hang up the phone. I don’t know what he said and I don’t care. I need to get to Carrie. I break every traffic law coming and going to get back to the house. I have one gun and I’ve been keeping it locked up in the house. I haven’t looked at it since the night I accidentally hurt Carrie. I don’t carry one, because ex-cons aren’t allowed that privilege. I’m not about to tempt fate just yet. Still, I know that Drag keeps a safe with emergency weapons hid in the garden shed out back. I turn my bike off and leave it at the bottom of the long drive. I don’t want to take the chance that I will be discovered before I make my move. I should check on Crush, but Carrie is my first concern. I can’t think past her.

I sprint to the shed, trying to stay away from direct view of the windows in the house, not an easy task. I manage somehow and make it to the shed. I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the old, bent up safe hid behind the wall of hoes, shovels, and rakes. Inside are three, thirty-eights and a box of ammo. I grab one, loading it quickly. I stuff about ten or fifteen bullets in my pocket. I’m hoping to find all of the motherf*ckers together, but who the hell knows. I don’t have the best of luck.

With a deep breath, I take off for the back of the house. I’m betting that he will have Carrie either in the living room or kitchen. With that in mind, I know I don’t want to use the front door. Damn place doesn’t have a back door and that’s f*cked up. I search what I know about the house and quickly decide to get in through Carrie’s bathroom window. It’s at the back of the house and the farthest away from the kitchen. I pray I can get in quietly. I need surprise on my side. I sure as hell don’t have much else.

I make it to the window and it’s locked. I figured it would be. I reach in my pocket and pull out my knife. I suppose carrying a pocket knife might be bad for an ex-con too, but I’m thankful I never worried about it. I angle the longest part of the knife’s blade where the upper and lower window meets. I attempt to trip the lock. I try ten f*cking times. TEN! Way too many when my woman could be inside dying. I close my eyes, take a breath and try to steady myself. Then I try again. Finally! On the second attempt I manage to slide the lever over and it unlocks. I raise the window as quietly as I can.

Once I get it open enough to slide in, I stop and listen. When I don’t hear anyone coming towards the room, I take that as a good sign. I slide my knife back in my pocket, heft myself onto the window ledge, and pull myself up. I manage to push through the opening, but I scrape my side on the corner of a wooden chest that’s beside the window. Fuck! That hurt. I can feel the sticky wet drip of blood on my skin. I don’t bother to inspect it. I have no time.

I carefully make my way through the hall. I can hear talking in the kitchen. The voices aren’t overly loud, so I can’t really hear what they’re saying, until I get closer. I hide behind the half wall that divides the kitchen and living room.

I smell the odor of gun powder mixed with the coppery scent of blood in the room and my heart stalls. I almost lose it, until I hear Carrie’s voice. She’s alive.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh don’t be so na?ve. We’re beyond these dramatics by now, Carolina.”

There’s a man’s body lying on the floor, on his back. His face is turned towards the kitchen, but I see enough to know that the man is dead. I turn my attention back to my woman. I can hear the terror in her voice. I want to go straight in right now, but I know I can’t. When I stand up, I have to have my gun ready and aim. I won’t get a second chance. So, I need to be careful. It kills me, but I remain where I’m at.

“Why did you kill them?” Carrie says her voice quiet and full of sadness.

“Kill who? Go on now, don’t leave me hanging now,” he says and I can hear the sick delight in his voice. I’m going to enjoy killing this motherf*cker.

“Never mind, I know.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You killed my parents to get even with me,” she whispers and the guilt in her voice physically hurts me. I pray she can hold on for just a few more minutes.

“Bingo. You’re smarter than you look. Which is sad really. That means you have brains and can cook. Such a waste.”

“You’re sick.”

I hope she doesn’t cause him to lash out at her. I need her to hold on and stay safe for me. I hold my breath and peek out over the corner where the wall stops.

An older man is sitting at the table facing my way with Carrie’s back to me. He’s got a gun in his hand, motioning it around while he’s talking.

“Tell me, were your parents proud of you? Were you close?”