Free Having It All by Kati Wilde

“Blowback’s team is out and heading for the meet point.”
    I look to Stone and Gunner. “And we’re heading in.”
    Only twenty yards and the night around us sounds like a battlefield. Zoomie’s taking out the five Henchmen on the other side of the house but they must have grabbed cover behind more junkers, because they’re firing back. I don’t know if they can see her or if they’re just shooting into the night. A streak across the sky is one of the flares Red’s using to hit the clubhouse. Burning it all to the ground.
    We’re at the house quick and get our backs against the south wall, crouching low. There’s still gunfire coming from the other side. “Zoomie?”
    “Almost got ’em.” Her voice sounds strained. “And the rubber on our dick broke. I need some bleach over here.”
    “You’re bleeding? How bad?”
    “I’ll pull her out,” Blowback comes in.
    “Back off, Jack. I’ve got these fuckers and I’ll walk out. Just bring me some goddamn bleach.” She pauses and the noise from the north suddenly quiets. “Okay. They’re down.”
    “Pull her out and clean it up, Blowback,” I say. “Hashtag?”
    “Two men on either side of the front door. Reichmann’s farther back in the same room. They’re all armed. Shotguns or rifles.”
    “You’re sure it’s Reichmann?” Infrared doesn’t give that detailed a picture.
    “I’m sure, boss. His wrist’s in a splint and his foot’s in a cast. I figure that’s because someone cut his fingers off and someone else busted his ankle.”
    “Blowback can claim the ankle,” Stone says quietly. “But I’d like to point out that I got some teeth.”
    From the beating that was coming to him after he touched Jenny. The fingers were Red’s.
    His life is mine.
    I point toward the front of the house. Immediately Stone and Gunner move out like they were sharing a brain, every step like they were two parts of one whole. They served together a long time—longer than they’ve been Riders—and don’t need words to communicate and know what they’ll each do, so they’ll go through first. They’re razors. I’m just a big fucking fist.
    Long dried grass crackles under our boots. No avoiding that. It’s thick around the house. But there’s still enough shouting and dogs barking—and now engines revving in the distance—that no one inside should be able to detect the sound. There’s no lights on. Someone inside is smart enough not to stand in plain sight, then, but the second we move around to the front the glow from the clubhouse fire will let them see us.
    Raising his brows, Stone looks to Gunner, who says real low, “Hashtag, are they still by the front door?”
    “Affirmative.”
    “Standing?”
    “Yep.”
    “And the girls are sitting? You double check now.”
    “They are.”
    Gunner looks to Stone, who shrugs. “Hold off a sec, boss,” he says, and as one they’re striding out like the two ballsiest assholes I’ve ever seen and open fire on the front of the house with two of the assault rifles from Blowback’s stash. The automatic weapons shred the upper half of the door and rip through the siding like a chainsaw. Jesus Christ. Even if the guards who were standing by the door are still alive there’s no chance they’re still upright. They’re either cowering or running. No doubt Reichmann’s running—but there’s only one room to hide in.
    I head for the door. Stone and Gunner stop firing and are right ahead of me, sweeping through together. One of the guards is groaning on the floor, bleeding from his shoulder and his gun in hand. Gunner barely looks down, capping him with a short burst. I expect to put on my night vision lenses but there’s faint light coming from the narrow hallway now—coming through the bedroom door.
    “He’s got one of the girls. Dragged her into the bathroom Looks like they’re standing in the tub and he’s got her in front of him.”
    Like a shield. Shit. Eyes on the bathroom door, I point