Page 2 of Knight
But I’d still get him out of this mess somehow. I moved to the window, popping off a couple of shots while Puck scurried up the ladder to the loft and disappeared into the shadows.
Return fire came. Good. They were focused on me. I fired a few more before a bullet nearly took off my head.
A feral scream rent the night.
I ducked down, laughing. “Take that, you fuckers!”
If I was going down, I’d take them with me. Just three more to go.
A motor growled. There were shouts of surprise. More motors started up.
They were leaving.
I turned toward the loft. “They’re taking off, Puck! Let’s go!”
The sirens grew even louder, but there was no sound from Puck. He must have made it onto the roof. He’d be watching for the all clear. I waited for his call.
Thirty seconds went by. Then another ten.
His call didn’t come.
Shit. Maybe the cops were too close? I started toward the ladder, intending to join him. Maybe we could find a way down the other side of the barn.
The sirens were practically on top of me now. My foot hit the first rung. Car doors slammed and voices shouted.
I started to climb.
The doors rattled behind me. “This is the police. We’ve got you surrounded.”
Fuck! I hesitated at the top of the ladder. The loft window was so close. But if I went to the roof, I’d draw their attention to Puck. I could hole up here, but they’d call in SWAT to bust down the door. The place would be swarming with even more cops.
My heart sank, and I descended the ladder. There was only one thing to do. Let them take me so they wouldn’t look too hard for anyone else. Puck could escape once we were gone.
“There’s nowhere for you to go,” an officer called through a speaker. “Toss your gun to the ground, put your hands above your head, and come out, nice and easy.”
I looked around, trying to find another escape, but there wasn’t one that didn’t risk drawing them to Puck.
“Okay!” I called. “Don’t shoot! I’m coming out.”
I tossed the gun onto the dusty floor, grabbed the crossbeam that was securing the barn door, and slid it open.
“Hands up! Now, now, now!”
I lifted my hands. “Don’t shoot! I’m unarmed!”
Two officers wrestled me down into the snow, one planting a knee in my back while dragging my arms behind my waist and locking cold metal cuffs on my wrists.
“We’ve got a badly wounded man in the snow out here,” a gruff voice said in my ear. “You’re under arrest.”
“It was self-defense,” I shot back. “There were four of them and one of me.”
“Save it for the judge.” He pulled me up by my wrists, my body throbbing like one giant bruise at the strain. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in…”
I closed my eyes, reality sinking in as he read me my rights.
I was going to jail—and not for some minor misdemeanor. I shot one of the other bikers. I’d do prison time.
I raised my eyes and scanned the roofline. There was no sign of Puck. I broke into a laugh, startling the cop still droning through my list of rights.
