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Colt (The Black Hornets MC)
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She protects the innocent. But what if I’m guilty?
Colt is the fourth book in the Black Hornets MC Series. The Black Hornets are connected to the Dead Souls MC, however, you do not need to read the Dead Souls to enjoy the Black Hornets.
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“Go! Go! Go!”
Bullets flew and people raced about. Diego’s men fell to their knees, taken out by Duke’s bullets. That was his signature move; two well-placed bullets to the knees. It took out their capacity to move and left them for the cops to find. Or worse, for their enemies to find them. Fatal shots were dealt as men pulled themselves across the road. Brewer and Grave from the Dead Souls helped one another out of harm’s way as bullets raced by their heads.
“We’re down, guys! We’re down!” Brewer exclaimed. I leveled my scope on the edge of the ledge to see if I could see what was going on.
Grave groaned in my earpiece as blood poured from the wound on the inside of his thigh. Knox’s hands wrapped around a bloodied knife and pulled it from his side. Diesel rushed over to the man, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and hoisting him up as blood dripped down his waist.
“We gotta get out of here!” Diesel exclaimed as Knox wavered at his side.
“Scatter! We have to get out of here!” Dean roared.
“…” Colt are you…”and my ear piece started to go haywire.
“Guys?” I yelled into my earpiece. But all that came back through was dead silence. I could no longer hear what anyone was saying. I looked out over the edge and tried to see what was going on.
Sirens sounded in the distance, growing closer as I watched Diego slip through our fingers. I took aim, but I couldn’t get a good shot on him. I growled as I watched him duck for cover. If I could just get the perfect shot, then all of this would be finished.
“Someone take out his ride so he can’t get away!” I yelled into my earpiece. But all I was met with was static.
I tried to move my position slightly to see if I could get a better shot before he made a break for his SUV. But no matter where I move, the fucker was still completely hidden by the dumpster.
“Can anyone fucking hear me?!” I yelled again into the ear piece.
I was met again with radio silence as I watched Diego slip behind the dumpster and into a car right in front of me.
“Fucking hell!” I yelled.
The sirens grew closer as Diego turned and looked out at the guys in the parking lot. He yelled at his men, and then I watched as more of his goons poured out from the building into the parking lot.
All of my guys were surrounded. I had to do something.
I grunted as I took off, running from the roof bakery across the road. Tires squealed as I busted through the back door of the bakery. I launched myself over bushes as bikes struck up and raced off. I held my gun in front of me, clearing corners as I made my way to the parking lot.
I silenced my breaths, despite my lung’s burning desire to gasp for air.
I saw the flashing lights appeared as I approached. I silenced my footfalls, knowing it would be damn good and hard to get out of this situation now. The last of the motorcycles squealed away as the clubs split up. Dodging the police and getting themselves away. I busted open the door that led to the roof. I kept to the shadows, my eyes scanning the edges of the parking lot for any signs of life.
And then, I heard a groan.
I ran after the sound before a bullet flew by my head. I ducked beside a protrusion, pressing my back against the wall. I saw Maverick was on the ground. He was bloodied at the head, knocked out by the butt of someone’s gun with his gun kicked away from him. My nostrils flared with anger at the sight.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the man taunted.
He really shouldn’t have done that.
I slipped around the protrusion and raised my head, tilting my gun around the corner.
And when I fired at the moving shadow, it went down with a wail of pain.
“Come on, Maverick. We gotta get you out of here,” I said.
I hoisted him onto my shoulder as more and more police appeared at the scene. I had no fucking clue how I was going to get him out of this situation, but I knew I had to try. I stumbled down the stairs with him as he leaned his head against me. He needed a hospital. A doctor. Someone to take a look at him and make sure he didn’t have a concussion.
We made our way out the back door and I started running with us as. As fast as we could go, leaving our bikes behind. We couldn’t get to them. It was no use. No point in trying because it wasn’t like either of us could drive anyway. My chest was on fire and my hands ached. Maverick was two ticks away from puking on both of us. My lungs burned as I gasped for air, hauling him away from the scene and into our drop spot.