Free Burn by Rayna Bishop Page B

signaled to Cruz and the men pushed their bikes to the red line.   Danni held on tighter to Mercer as the motorcycle sped down the highway.

    When they got closer to the clubhouse, Mercer heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire.   They rounded the corner and Mercer yelled back to Danni.   “When this bike stops, you run for cover, got it?”

    She nodded. When Mercer turned back to the road he saw two men outside the Black Ice clubhouse.   They heard the approaching bikes and opened fire.   Mercer put his bike down, grateful Danni had bought that leather jacket.   It was all that kept her arm from being ground against the pavement.   Mercer rolled away from the skid, taking Danni with him, but the bike kept going.   It slid into the parked Rattler bikes.  

    Cruz jumped off his bike and fired on the enemy.   It was the second of the big, bald Rattlers.   He fired on Cruz, then retreated into the clubhouse.   Cruz ran over to Mercer and Danni to help them up.

    “Fair bet they know we’re here,” Cruz said.

    “We lost control of the clubhouse.   We have to find Doc and Red,” said Mercer.

    “Any ideas?”

    Mercer did have an idea.   He told Danni to stay put and keep her head down, then he and Cruz struck out around back to the door behind the garage.   They still hadn’t heard from Doc since his message, and Mercer feared the worst.   They reached the rear entrance and unlocked it.   Quietly, they slipped in and shut the door behind them.   They cautiously moved through the storage area, past the tools and spare parts, inching their way closer to the living area of the clubhouse.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Mercer saw movement to his left.   He raised his gun and turned, but it was too late.   There was a gun barrel at his temple.

    “About fucking time, kid,” said Doc, lowering his gun.

    Mercer wrapped his arms around the man and clapped him on the back.   “Thank God,” he said.   “You didn’t send another message.”

    “Fuckin’ Rattlers shot my phone right out of my goddamn hand.”

    “It was a sight,” said Red.

    Mercer grabbed the other man’s hand and shook it.   They didn’t have a lot, but Black Ice was together again.

    “How many are there?” asked Cruz

    “Three, best we can tell.   Fixer, that fat, bald bastard, and some scrawny necked kid looks like he should work in a library—but they’re all armed out the ass.   They hit us hard, caught us with our pants around our ankles.   We exchanged fire up front, but they drove us back here.   I thought the door was gonna get busted down, but I think they were waiting on you.”

    A shotgun blast came through the door that led into the living area.   The big, bald biker came through.   Mercer fired and ducked behind a tool chest.   The man hid behind the door frame, then popped around and fired the shotgun again.  

    Mercer heard Doc call out in pain as he fell on the concrete, clutching his side.   Some of the buckshot had caught his arm and chest.   Mercer and Cruz fired back at the bald Rattler, then ran out and grabbed Doc.   Taking hold of his cut, they dragged him to the back as Red fired wildly.   When they reached the back door again, Mercer kicked it up and they all left the clubhouse.

    “If we survive this, you’re getting some target practice,” said Cruz to Red.

    Red shot him a dirty look, but Cruz ignored it.  

    They got Doc off the ground and took him behind the next building over.   Mercer looked him over while Cruz and Red stood watch.  

    The wound was bleeding a lot.   Mercer looked around for something to use as a bandage, but Doc waved him off.

    “Just get me to my feet.   I got a little fight left in me.”

    As they got Doc up, he said, “What the hell do we do now?”

    “Red, you and Doc come with me.   Cruz, go find Danni.   Get her someplace safe and get back here.”

    They all agreed.   Mercer watched Cruz head down the alley towards Danni’s hiding