Page 105 of Raff
Once I passed out, that was it, I was dead.
I winced ahead of the possible pain, then forced my arms to go lax, for my body to fall forward with no hope for bracing.
Drake’s hand slowed my fall, but he whipped it away at the last second, making my face hit the pavement, but not nearly as hard as I feared.
I was still gulping for air when the sound exploded through the air.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
There was one long second where nothing happened except my ears ringing from the sound.
That was a gunshot.
Three gunshots.
On a whimper, I rolled onto my back, finally able to see everything again.
What I saw first was Drake’s body sprawled not far from me, his leg and neck bent at unnatural angles, his eyes open and blank. Possibly because of the blood blooming from his chest. And, you know, the bullet in the center of his forehead.
There was a strange whimpering sound that I didn’t realize came from me.
“Don’t look.”
I knew that voice.
Even as I thought that, Raff moved into my line of vision, blocking Drake from view.
“Rafe?” I whispered, feeling my eyes flood and my face crumple.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He tucked his gun away and lowered down to his knees, hooking an arm around me, pulling me up, then flattening me against him. “I’ve got you.”
My hands were still burning, so I wrapped my arms around him instead of clinging, letting myself cry in, what? Relief? Fear? A combination of the two?
“Raff,” Jack’s voice called making me jolt and Raff stiffen. “Gotta move that body.”
The calm, unbothered tone of the seeminglynon-criminal motel owner had me pulling back from Rafe and blinking what was left of the tears away.
But Raff seemed just as casual about it.
“You’re right,” he agreed.
“I already called Slash. Told him no bikes.”
Even as he said it, I heard the loose rocks on the pavement as feet crunched on them. Turning, I saw the newer members of the club—Saint, Syn, and Hail—making their way in our direction. They’d been at the bar when I’d grabbed a fresh coffee. Seems like the biker grapevine worked fast.
“Hey, look, it’s my neighbor I’ve been pretending isn’t my neighbor for weeks,” Hail said when he spotted me. But the smirk on his lips fell as he took in my tear-stained face and my bloody hands. He glanced from me, to Drake. Then walked over and, I can’t make this up, kicked him in his dead head.
“He’s already dead, man.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t look like he got what was coming to him first,” Hail said, shrugging. “So, what’s the plan?”
It took me a second to realize everyone was looking at Raff. Because he was the most senior member of the club on the scene.
“Gun,” Raff said, reaching for it and holding it out to Syn.
