Conquered by the Mafia Boss

I just want her.

“Prez!” one of them shouts, minutes later. “Everything looks good. Tons of ammunition in there.”

Reg’s smile widens. “Well, well, well. Drive it in.”

Yes.

The headlights of the truck illuminate the packed earth, casting deep shadows over its grooves. The engine growls and the wheels crack the ground. The head of the truck passes the gate. Then with a loud whine and a violent shudder, the engine stalls. It stops.

This is it.

“What the fuck happened?” Confused, Reg takes a step forward and Johnny’s eyes open, wide and alert. His hands twist behind his back. They break free of the zip tie.

A speeding black mass howls toward the fortress, and the loud roar confuses them.

“What the fuck did you do?”

He whirls around as the car smashes through the gate, past the stalled truck. Another one follows it, and muzzles flash like fireworks in the dark. I hurl myself to the ground as Johnny slips the blade from his sleeve and slashes at the heels of the man standing behind him. The bikers fire back at the two cars, windows exploding. I help John tackle the man and we wrestle the gun from his hand. Pop-pop. Two gunshots to his temple silence him immediately. I seize the gun strapped to his ankle, and bullets pepper the ground next to me. Where’s Beatrice?

She’s gone, disappeared in the chaos. Probably with that rat, Sal. Fuck.

The guys in the cars are pinned. Blood streaks down into little puddles. I grit my teeth as screams erupt around me and sprint around the clubhouse for cover. I grab the back of Johnny’s jacket and yank him around the corner.

“This is fucking crazy.”

Behind Johnny’s back, there’s movement. I raise my hand and fire, and a biker drops his gun, dead.

Johnny claps my shoulder in thanks.

“I need to find her.”

A stream of men pours out of the clubhouse, and for a moment it looks like it’s going to be a slaughter. They aim their guns, firing at the backs of their own brothers.

“What the fuck?”

A wry grin crawls over John’s face. “Sal’s not the only one with deep ties to the MC. Let’s go find your wife.”

I flatten myself against the wall and use the butt of my pistol to smash a window. The glass sticks out in jagged pieces and I climb carefully into a darkened bedroom. Thank God it’s empty. Johnny climbs in after me and lands with a soft thump. Our footsteps creak on the floorboards.This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

“We just have to check room by room. He’s here somewhere.”

My hand finds the doorknob in the dark and I twist it open. I burst out, turning left as I aim my gun down the hallway. Johnny turns to the right.

“Clear.”

We inch down the hall, kicking open another door that holds a group of frightened children. One look at their tearstained faces brings a swell of rage for the MC. I slam the door shut, knowing that it’s a matter of time before we’ll open a door and someone will be ready for us.

Heart rate jacked, I palm open a door and feel a rush of air. A scream of pain explodes in my ear and I fire into the direction of the sounds. A biker holding a rifle slumps over on the upturned bucket and crashes to the ground.

“Fuck!”

Shit. Johnny!

He clutches his shoulder, eyes screwed up in pain as the hand holding his gun falls limp at his side.

“Shot.”

“Fuck!”

No, no, no!

I throw Johnny’s arm over my shoulder and drag him to the closest empty room, depositing him on a bed. His suit is wet with blood and a trickle of red pours out of his sleeve.

“Fucking bastard got me.”

I grab the sheets from the bed and tear at them with my knife.

“It’ll be all right. Looks like it went right through.”

“Putain.” He hisses in pain as I peel away his suit and knife away his shirt. A dark hole floods with blood in the meat of his shoulder. I look around his back and see the exit wound.

“My wife’s going to fucking kill me.”

The mention of his wife reminds me of mine, still lost-still in the grasp of that psycho. I wrap the sheet around his shoulder, looping it under his arm and tying a tight knot so that he winces in pain.

“Okay. Stay here.”

“Fuck that,” he growls. “I’m not going to just sit here.”

“Boss, you’re hurt. Stay put. We can’t survive if you die.”

He stands up, his color dulled. Something more than pain swirls in his eyes. “I never wanted Mike dead. I would never do that to one of my own.”

It’s the closest I’ll ever get to, “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

I turn away from him and open the door, getting one last look of him sitting down on the mattress, giving me a stiff nod. Then I close it behind me and I run into a thick body. We collide, and my gun flies from my hand. Then I notice that black-bearded face-that fucking asshole who taunted me in the courtyard. Reg.

I tackle him before he can recover, his back slamming into the wall. His knee hits my guts and I let go, winded. Then a sharp elbow strikes my back and I’m knocked down. My body sprawls as pain radiates from both sides, then I lunge for my handgun. It scrapes on the wood. Reg’s legs straddle me, and then I twist around. BAM!

Black pools widen with shock as his huge hands clutch his stomach.

I pick myself up, enjoying the sight of the biker writhing on the floor, hand on his bleeding guts.

“What the fuck did you say to me? I didn’t deserve Beatrice?”

He mouths something incoherent.