Den of Vipers
: Chapter 43

This is probably a bad idea, but I’m aching to get out, to help them. I’m not the sitting on the sidelines type, so I jump at the chance. I do, however, bring the security guys as backup and let them call some of the shots to let them think they are in charge. It’s cute how flustered they get when I don’t listen.

I’m also strapped with weapons, guns, and knives, some I’ve stolen. I almost snigger at that. I can’t carry my bat discreetly, so I leave her behind. I do pull on the closest pair of heels though, not wanting to waste time replaceing my boots, and then we’re on the move.

The hotel is downtown, and we get caught in some traffic on the way. They continue to try and ring Ryder, but he doesn’t answer, which is not surprising, considering he was going into a meeting. We pull up outside, and they frown at it. “I don’t like this,” one of the mutters.

I sigh, looking around. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t see him anywhere, and no way am I walking my ass into a random building from a text. I’m not fucking stupid.”

I try to ring him, but it goes to voicemail. Shit, what if something is wrong? “What do you want—” I get cut off by bullets.

“Down!” one of them screams.

I throw myself on the backseat, shielding my head as more bullets fly and glass shatters. I feel it sprinkle over my back, and then it all stops. Pushing myself up, I stare into the front, gasping when I replace my guards dead with bullets in their heads. Fuck. Grabbing my gun, I debate getting into the footwell, but if someone rips open the door, I’ll be a sitting duck. I crawl across the backseat, open the door, and slip out, using the car for cover. Searching my pockets for my phone, I swear when I come up empty. It must have fallen out, but it’s too late to go back for it. I raise the gun, flick off the safety, and wait.

I can hear an engine, but it’s quiet, and then boots. Peeking under the car, I see four pairs heading straight for me. Fuck. This wasn’t random, this was planned, and someone got a hold of Garrett’s phone to lure me here. Fucking stupid, Roxy! I hope he’s okay, but I don’t have time to worry about him. I need to worry about myself and get my ass out of here.

I wait until they open the door before I make a break for it, heading to an alley at the side of the hotel. I run as fast as I can, pumping my arms, my old days running from the police as a rough sleeper coming back to me.

Fuck, fuck.

I hear boots behind me, followed by their yells. I round the alley and almost scream. There’s a fucking fence at the end. Fuck this. I refuse to go down without a fight. Ducking behind a bin, I wait. One of them runs right past me, and I slip out, firing as I go. He crumples easily, and I look back to see three more men in fucking bike helmets coming at me. Taking off again, I aim straight for the fence.

I got this. I throw myself at it and start to climb. I slip, cutting my fingers, but I harness the pain with a growl and drag myself up. A shot goes wide, and I flinch, but carry on going as they shout.

“Don’t fucking shoot, we need her alive!”

Well, that’s something at least.

Throwing my leg over the top, I yell as a hand grabs my ankle. I look down into the helmet and use the gun like a bat, smashing it across the visor. It shatters, and he tumbles from the fence to the alley below. Using the distraction, I heave myself over the top and land on my knees, forcing myself quickly to my feet, my heels catching in a fucking hole. I don’t have time to stop, however, because they’re coming. I can hear the clink of the fence as they climb it.

My breathing is loud as I push into a sprint, but I can still hear them behind me, their boots loud. Hell fucking no. I’m not going down like this, not now, not ever. I didn’t survive all this shit to die in a goddamn alley.

“Stop!” comes the yell.

I snort, like that will work. I pump my arms harder. The alley breaks up ahead into what looks like a parking lot. From there, I can run into the road, lose them in traffic, and get away. But they are too close, my heels slowing me down. An arm grabs me.

Not bothering to scream, knowing no one will help me, I stomp on his foot and kick back. He falls away, and I turn, firing as I go. He goes down hard, and remembering my stance, I lock my arms and fire at the other two, but they duck behind more bins. The slide locks back, empty, and I curse, knowing I don’t have any other bullets with me. I have knives, but they will have to be close for that.

I drop the gun and take off again. I can hear them catching up, they are too fast. I won’t have a chance to get to the road, so I turn into the parking lot and duck behind a car, breathing heavily as I try to stay quiet while I crouch. Reaching down, I palm two blades.

If they thought I was going to be an easy target, they have another thing coming. Someone will have heard the shots and the police will be here soon. I just have to take down these two assholes and get free and back to the guys.

“Go that way!” one of them screams. They’re splitting up, which makes it easier for me. I crouch walk to the boot of the car and peer around it. One of them is heading the other way, but one is looking around and under cars, growing closer to me.

Steadying my breathing, I hold tight, waiting for the right moment to pounce. I only have one shot at this. They are bigger and have weapons. I don’t have my bat or familiar surroundings, so I need to make this quick.

Come on, motherfucker, just a bit closer. Tightening my hand on the blade, I wait for him to round the back of the car, his head turned slightly away. Then, I strike, fast and low. He doesn’t even get his gun up before the blade is in his leg. He drops with a scream as I yank it out and, with a war cry, land on his chest and stab him again and again.

When he stops jerking, I grab his gun and turn to get the other guy, but I’m too slow. Too fucking slow. I see the butt of the pistol coming just seconds before it hits me in the face, and then everything is dark.

Goddamn, the back of my head hurts. I lie still as I feel something moving. Oh wait, that’s me, I’m moving. What the fuck happened?

The text.

The attack.

I keep my breathing even, like I used to when I was a kid and hoped my dad wouldn’t realise I was awake. My head is pounding, and my face feels sore, that bitch better not have broken my nose with his gun. How goddamn rude. Ignoring the pain, something I learned years ago, I focus on where we are. There’s a hard but soft seat beneath me, and I’m leaning against something cold and vibrating. There’s a purr beneath me, and the sound of horns surrounding us.

We are in a car.

I crack open one eye, noting I’m propped against the window in the backseat. I daren’t turn my head, but I can feel someone next to me, someone big. I can also see two men in the front—one driving and one in the passenger seat. The radio is on low, an upbeat pop song pounding through the speakers to match the pounding of my head.

Okay, three guys.

I’ve taken more than that, and I don’t mean sexually…though that’s true now, I guess. Three big guys, packing no doubt, but I have the advantage. They want me alive, I want them dead.

My hand is trapped awkwardly between my body and the car door, so shifting slightly, I pull it free. I freeze when I feel the guy in front glance over to check on me. Only when he turns back do I move again, slowly, so as not to draw attention. I run my hand down my thigh—shit, they took my weapons.

I’m betting all of them, the handsy bastards. Diesel is going to be pissed. It doesn’t even cross my mind that Garrett was in on this. If he wanted me dead, he would have killed me. No, someone got to him, I just hope he’s okay.

Okay, no weapons. Think, Roxy. Fuck, my head hurts. This is the worst hangover ever, and I didn’t even get the buzz of the alcohol and bad regrets to make it worth my while. Moving my legs slightly to get into a more comfortable position, I freeze. I have my heels. My fucking heels.

The bitches are sharp…I wonder…

We’re slowing down, and I know we must be running out of time. God knows how long I’ve been out for. It’s now or never. The worst that will happen is I end up getting knocked out again…right?

I shift again until I can reach down and grab a heel, then I pull it off and hold still, taking a deep breath. Now or never, Rox.

Flopping my head to the side, I open my eyes and lock them onto the guy opposite me who’s staring out the window. He turns his head, undoubtedly feeling my movement, so I burst into action. I hear a yell, but I ignore it, praying they need me alive more than they want to shoot me.

I stab using the heel, my hand gripping the shoe. I drive it into his chest and neck, and as he turns his head to look at me with wide eyes, I drive it into his eye. It sticks from the socket as he screams. The car whips from side to side.

“Grab her,” I hear them yelling from the front.

Reaching across the guy who’s trying to pull the heel free, I grab his gun and knife and unclick his seat belt. I kick open his door and push him out. He screams as he hits the pavement, and I blow him a kiss before spinning to see the two men in the front.

The one in the passenger seat swears as he tries to get a needle ready while reaching back for me. Fuck that. I fumble with the gun and accidentally pull the trigger, gazing with wide eyes as the man in the front seat screams as it hits his leg.

“Oops, sorry,” I offer, as I grab his head and, using the knife, slice it across his throat. I don’t give myself time to think on what I’m doing. I’m in survival mode, it’s me or them. In this life I now live, blood was bound to cover my hands. You either get dirty or you die.

Only the driver is left now. He swears as he pulls his gun, done with me, one hand on the wheel. Looking out the front window, I see we’re on a dual carriageway, and it’s busy, which helps, because we have to go slow. Probably thirty miles per hour. Shit, this is going to hurt.

Grabbing the gun, I point it at his head and fire. He slumps forward, the ringing loud in my ears from the shot going off in such close proximity. Groaning, I slide between the seats and clutch the wheel, leaning over his body to try and swerve us around the other cars, but I can’t get the angle right. We catch the end of a van, and it spins us. Screaming, I hold on as we spin and spin, my stomach revolting, and then we stop.

It’s all quiet for a moment as I fall into the backseat until it’s not. A car hits us from the side and plows us into the middle barrier. We hit it and flip. It happens in mere seconds, but it feels like a lifetime as I roll around in the car. I manage to grab the seat, and when we finally land on the roof, I drop onto it with a crunch.

Groaning, I look down at my body. Holy fucking shit.

I’m okay! Fucking hell, that was goddamn lucky. The back door is warped and won’t open, so I kick at it, bracing myself on the roof and giving it all my strength. After the fourth kick, it opens, and I crawl out onto the broken glass of the road, cutting my hands and arms. Staggering to my feet, I lean against the car. This side of the road isn’t that busy, and the people who are passing are gawking at me. One even stops. But I can’t hear anything.

My ears are ringing, my body is in agony, and my head is pounding so hard, I have to turn and vomit. Fuck, I’m worse than I thought. Stumbling forward, away from the car in case it explodes or some shit, I walk into the lanes, but my body is done. I can’t help but fall to my knees. Whether it be shock or injury, I don’t know, but it refuses to listen, and my vision is swimming.

Move, Roxy, move!

But I can’t.

Panic winds through me, pushing back some of the numbness that’s threatening to swallow me whole, but it’s not enough. A noise catches my attention through the haze, and I turn my head. Two black cars have stopped near our wrecked one. Men pour from it, heading straight to me.

There are more than I’ll ever be able to handle, but that doesn’t mean I’m going down without a fight. I stumble to my feet, my fingers numb as I grab a piece of broken glass, the closest thing I have to a weapon. “Bring it, assholes!” I don’t know if I scream it out loud or in my head, but they do.

They come right for me.

I try to stab with the glass, but it’s slow, my body too goddamn sluggish. They knock my arm away, and my fingers spasm, making me drop the glass. I kick, I punch, but it’s like my movements are listless, too slow to make contact, and there are too goddamn many of them.

This is going to hurt a lot. I know it. So I brace for it, waiting for the pain, but it’s a quick one, barely a pinch, and when I turn my head, I see the needle they are pulling away. The bastards cheated.

At least they didn’t hit me in the face again.