Free Sons of Mayhem 2: Blood and Whisky by Nikki Pink

CHAPTER TWO
     
    5:35pm Nicole
    I heard the faint sound of the warehouse entrance sliding open and fear ran down my spine.
    "Well, shit." Jase said softly.
    There was a pause, and then the first shot rang out.
    I lay under the bed quaking. What on earth have I gotten myself into? I thought I'd be drinking and partying not getting shot at. I should have stayed in the dorm. Damn Lucy for letting me come with her!
    My eyes were closed as I heard another shot ring out. It wasn't how I'd imagined a gun battle; not at all like how guns sound on TV or in the movies. But what did I know?
    Jase let out a laugh. "Got 'em". Who is this guy? He's laughing? I was shaking under the bed. "Come on Nicole, let's have a look at these punks."
    I let out a whimper. "No, please. I hate blood." Little did I know that I'd be seeing a lot of it over the coming days and weeks.
    Jase let out another little laugh. "Don't worry. There's no blood. Yet."
    No blood? "Did they run away?"
    Jase knelt down on the floor and extended a tattooed and muscled arm under the bed. I grabbed his forearm, solid like an iron bar. Strong. He pulled me out with a firm but controlled tug. As I rose to my feet I brushed off the dust that clung to my skin. I was annoyed to see some of it had mixed with sweat leaving me with gray marks around my thighs and on my stomach.
    Jase nodded towards the stairs. "Come on. Before they get up." I ri sked a look through the windows to see what had happened down below. There were two skinny guys lying on the floor clutching their stomachs. I gulped.
    Jase walked ahead of me as we went down the stairs, one arm clutching the gun and the other holding his j acket. I leaned on his shoulder for support.
    We walked over in the direction of the door and stood over the men, the late afternoon sunlight streaming over our boots. He was right. There was no blood. I didn't understand what was going on.
    Jase poked the jaw of the nearest guy with his workboot, shoving his head backward. The guy was wide eyed and looked terrified.
    "Alright shithead. I want some answers. I may only be shooting rubber bullets, but trust me, at this range they'd be very, very bad for you." T he man on the floor seemed to be struggling to breathe.
    "Rubber bullets?"
    Jase turned to look at me. "Yeah. Riot rounds. No blood. But they're winded, and they're gonna have some nasty bruises." Jase bent over and picked up two silver colored handguns that were lying on the floor. He tucked each of them into the back of his jeans, turning slightly as he did so.
    There was something about that; a sexy tatted guy in a white tee shoving twin handguns into the back of his pants, just above his deliciously firm a nd rounded ass, that did something to me. Well, what girl wouldn't get at least a littler flustered?
    Jase slipped his jacket back on as he looked at the miserable looking men in contempt. Knowing that they weren't dead, or even bleeding, had been such a re lief. With Jase by my side as we towered over the rats before us I felt a grin begin to cross my face. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I smiling?
    Poking the toe of his boot at the closest body Jase spoke again. "Alright asshole. Who the fuck are you and why the fuck were you shooting at us?"
    The man let out a groan. Jase placed his boot on the stick-thin wrist of the man. He yelped. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"
    I saw Jase push his boot down harder on the guy's wrist. My grin turned to a grimace, but I also felt pleased. That's what you get for shooting at us, asshole. Jase's voice was deep and gravelly as he spoke again, "Of course you're sorry. But that's not what I need to hear right now. Who the fuck are you and who the fuck sent you?"
    The man struggled to breath in before speaking, "Bobby."
    "That's your name?" asked Jase.
    The man nodded.
    "Why the fuck were you shooting at us? Have I done anything to you?"
    I had my hands on my hips as I looked down on the men below. I want to spit on them. Scum. Should I spit on