Page 60 of Street

With a stunning grin, she snatched up the white birdie, pirouetted, and smacked it over the net to hit Razor’s shoulder. “One for me!” Rosa called, as Razor looked up.

Giggles filled the air. Street sent out a wish for this much happiness for his Little girl and himself for the rest of their lives. She deserved it.

Street’s job was to ready the forklift and wait at the warehouse as the other members of the Devil Daddies rode to meet the shipment at the docks. Razor lounged against the heavy machine next to him as the locator got closer. Street didn’t ask. Razor’s presence indicated Lucien expected a battle.

A voice clip popped up in the chat for the Devil Daddies. Razor pressed the play button first.

Code Red.

Wraith’s growly voice was tense. In all the skirmishes Street had witnessed, he’d never heard the big man’s tone sound like that. Razor didn’t hesitate. He ran to the health center and returned with two large bags of emergency supplies.

“Go grab the stretchers for me. They’re in the main warehouse in the supply closet,” Razor ordered, watching his phone for any more updates.

Street took off without asking questions. As he returned, the rumble of trucks and motorcycles reached his ears, growing louder at a fast rate. He dropped the stretchers next to Razor and headed for the gates. They were coming in hot.

The enormous metal barrier rattled, moving slowly on the motorized track. The ten-foot-tall solid panels weighed a ton and provided secure protection for those inside, but they needed to allow the MC to enter. As he reached the control center, Street spotted Gamble holding the switch open to speed it across the drive. A distinctive horn combination grabbed Street’s attention.

“Gamble, do you hear that? Only open a gap as wide as the trucks. Reverse the lever as soon as the last one passes. Someone is chasing them.”

Gamble waved a hand to signal Street that he understood. Whoever was chasing them might squeeze into the compound if they were close. He’d need to help the machinery. Street scanned the area, looking for something to use as armor. He spotted several industrial barrels off to the side. Dashing to that spot, he wrapped his arms around one and hoisted the heavy container up several inches to clear the ground. Lugging the barrel to the gate, he waited where Gamble had halted the barrier.

The first flatbed raced in with Fury at the wheel. A second with Pirate and the third sped in so close together the long vehicles seemed glued together. Street couldn’t even identify the driver of the last one in the millisecond gap. The bikes roared into the warehouse drive.

“Close it, Gamble,” Street yelled, grabbing the barrel with one arm and wrapping his left hand around the gate’s edge. Hunching over, Street’s heart pounded in his chest as he concealed as much of his body behind the container, but his arms and feet were exposed. He pulled with all his might, speeding up the barrier’s pace. Pings sounded around him. Gunfire. Several thudded into the barrel, almost knocking him down.

“Now! Get the gate locked now!” Lucien roared as he skillfully maneuvered his massive bike through the small opening. The MC President had taken his customary position at the rear of the group.

Street heaved, straining his muscles, as he hunched behind the barrel. The gate bucked in his hand. Street didn’t let go. He spotted the front tire of a motorcycle wedged in the last few inches of the gap. The biker gunned the engine, making the wheels smoke and grinding the metal of the front fender against the metal. Street kicked the wheel with his steel-toed boot. A sting and wetness told him the bastard had shot his foot. Fortunately for Street, the attacking biker’s move to aim his gun had interrupted him from accelerating. The bike rolled backward, and the gate snapped closed.

Street limped, still holding the barrel to the side where Gamble stood protected by the metal shielding Lucien had required to build the outer walls surrounding the warehouse area. When his adrenaline allowed him, Street dropped the makeshift shield, refusing to look at it. He didn’t want to know how many times those bastards had shot at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked Gamble as the Ravagers banged on the gate outside, searching for any vulnerability or target.

“I have no clue,” Gamble admitted, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Turn around slowly.” Street scanned the other man and shook his head. “I don’t see anything but this nick here.” He pointed to a streak across Gamble’s right biceps.

“What about you?” Gamble asked. “Grabbing that barrel probably saved your life.”

“I’m going to check how many bullets made their way through the first side. Tomorrow. Got my boot in that last stupid move I made.”

“Ouch.”

“I think the steel toe of my boot stopped the round. I’ll pull the shoe off later to check. What else can we do to fortify this?”

“Let me electrify the entrance now that you’re not touching the metal.” Gamble hit a button, and immediately two high-pitched screams sounded on the other side. They both smiled, enjoying their rivals’ pain. “That should keep them out. Come on. Let’s go this way. Can you walk if I help you?” Gamble wrapped his arm around Street’s waist and started hauling him around the perimeter toward the inner section of the warehouse area.

“Thanks.” Street rested some of his weight on his brother to speed their progress.

Two of their brothers lay stretched out on the pavement as Razor worked on them. From the look of the tourniquets around one’s arm and the other’s leg, they’d been hit. Hopefully nothing life-threatening.

“Where’d you get hit?” Razor yelled at Street.

The observant doctor had already spotted his limp and Gamble’s support. “My boot.”

“Get over here and sit your ass down. Take that boot off,” Razor ordered.

“Hey! Some of these containers have bullet holes,” Vex hollered.