Free Devil's Ride by Kathryn Thomas

called 911?”
     
    “I had one of the girls call.”
     
    “Hand me that other towel,” I said just as I heard the wail of a siren.
     
    Peter handed me the towel then rose and opened the door, holding it open until the police cruiser howled to a stop.
     
    “Hang on, Randy,” I whispered as I fought against my tears of fear and frustration. I knew I had to slow down the bleeding, but I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing. I was so frightened I couldn’t think.
     
    It seemed like only moments later that hands shoved me roughly aside. I fell on my ass then scrambled backwards as the paramedics went to work on Randy, tearing open packages and barking orders to each other.  
     
    I was still sitting on my ass, knees up with my arms wrapped around them, unable to move, when an officer stepped up to me. “I need you to come with me. They will take care of your friend.”
     
    I looked up and the officer was holding a gloved hand down to me. I took it and he helped me to my feet then shepherded into the far corner of the club with the other girls.
     
    ***
     
    It took almost two hours before the police let me go. Since I had been in the back room with Peter when the shooting happened, I was of little use to them. As we waited I had watched them rush Randy out, a second paramedic team taking Josh out a little later.
     
    As we stood around, the girls told me what happened. Four guys had walked in, shooting Randy as soon as they stepped in, and then shooting Josh a moment later when he turned toward them. They then walked up to the bar and killed Tina, one man shooting her six times, before they left without a backward glance.
     
    That was supposed to be me. The Bulls thought they had killed me. Tina and I looked enough alike that a cursory description, tall, dark hair, working behind the bar at The Cat’s Claw, would fit us both.
     
    The police had allowed me to wash my hands while I waited my turn to be questioned, but I stopped in the bathroom to scrub them again. Then a second time. I wasn’t sure I would ever get my hands clean again. I forced myself to not wash them a third time and wandered in a daze to my office. I sat in my chair and stared at nothing, thinking over what had happened.
     
    I looked at my phone on the desk. There were two missed calls, both from Cain. I had to go. I had to get away. I picked up my phone, my purse, and left, not even bothering to shut the door to my office.
     
    ***
     
    I arrived home and went straight to my suitcase. I struggled not to cry in desperation as I threw a few items into the case. I had to get somewhere safe, somewhere where I could protect myself and my unborn child.
     
    I tossed my gun on top of the clothes and zipped it shut. I was almost out of the door when the nausea hit. I dropped my case and ran for the bathroom, just making it before I threw up, emptying my stomach of my lunch. I fell to my knees, gasping and retching. There had been so much blood, and Tina’s eyes, the way they stared at me. I heaved again, gagging and choking.
     
    I knelt on the floor, panting and fighting the heaves, until the nausea passed. I rose and washed out my mouth. I had to hold it together. I had to protect my baby. I gritted my teeth in determination, spat out one last mouthful of water, and walked out of the bathroom. I picked up my bag without even slowing as I walked toward the garage.
     
    ***
     
    “Alexandria? What are you doing here?” Grandpa asked as I opened the door to their house.
     
    “I’m in trouble. Bad trouble.”
     
    “What kind of trouble?” Granny asked as she appeared from the back of the house.
     
    “Someone tried to kill me today.”
     
    “What?” they both cried in unison as they looked at each other.
     
    “Are you okay?” Granny asked as she hurried to take me into her embrace.
     
    “Yes. They mistook someone else for me.” I gasped, but I couldn’t stop the tears. “It was so awful!”
     
    “What happened?” Grandpa