Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“Those are interesting rules,” Lucien said without changing his expression one bit.
Street laughed and excused himself. “I think I need to get into this game.” He took two steps away and turned to Lucien. “Thanks.”
Lucien nodded once and headed over to speak with another group. Street wondered who protected Lucien. The biggest target their enemies had rested on the president’s shoulders. He sent his hopes out to the universe as he walked over to grab a racket.
Please let Lucien find his special Little girl.
Street focused on his Little girl as she ran to hug him. “Can I be on your team, Dinorosa?”
“Of course. We’re matchy-matchy. We can’t be on separate teams! Besides, I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, Rosa.” Street cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her lips.
“Hey! There’s no kissing in badminton,” Vex called across the net.
Street flipped him off and exchanged another long smooch with Rosa. When he lifted his head, everyone had taken a kiss break. He whispered into his Little girl’s ear, “Quick, go serve the birdie.”
With a stunning grin, she snatched up the white birdie, pirouetted, and smacked it over the net to hit Razor’s shoulder. “One for me!” Rosa called, as Razor looked up.
Giggles filled the air. Street sent out a wish for this much happiness for his Little girl and himself for the rest of their lives. She deserved it.
Street’s job was to ready the forklift and wait at the warehouse as the other members of the Devil Daddies rode to meet the shipment at the docks. Razor lounged against the heavy machine next to him as the locator got closer. Street didn’t ask. Razor’s presence indicated Lucien expected a battle.
A voice clip popped up in the chat for the Devil Daddies. Razor pressed the play button first.
Code Red.
Wraith’s growly voice was tense. In all the skirmishes Street had witnessed, he’d never heard the big man’s tone sound like that. Razor didn’t hesitate. He ran to the health center and returned with two large bags of emergency supplies.
“Go grab the stretchers for me. They’re in the main warehouse in the supply closet,” Razor ordered, watching his phone for any more updates.
Street took off without asking questions. As he returned, the rumble of trucks and motorcycles reached his ears, growing louder at a fast rate. He dropped the stretchers next to Razor and headed for the gates. They were coming in hot.
The enormous metal barrier rattled, moving slowly on the motorized track. The ten-foot-tall solid panels weighed a ton and provided secure protection for those inside, but they needed to allow the MC to enter. As he reached the control center, Street spotted Gamble holding the switch open to speed it across the drive. A distinctive horn combination grabbed Street’s attention.
“Gamble, do you hear that? Only open a gap as wide as the trucks. Reverse the lever as soon as the last one passes. Someone is chasing them.”
Gamble waved a hand to signal Street that he understood. Whoever was chasing them might squeeze into the compound if they were close. He’d need to help the machinery. Street scanned the area, looking for something to use as armor. He spotted several industrial barrels off to the side. Dashing to that spot, he wrapped his arms around one and hoisted the heavy container up several inches to clear the ground. Lugging the barrel to the gate, he waited where Gamble had halted the barrier.
The first flatbed raced in with Fury at the wheel. A second with Pirate and the third sped in so close together the long vehicles seemed glued together. Street couldn’t even identify the driver of the last one in the millisecond gap. The bikes roared into the warehouse drive.
“Close it, Gamble,” Street yelled, grabbing the barrel with one arm and wrapping his left hand around the gate’s edge. Hunching over, Street’s heart pounded in his chest as he concealed as much of his body behind the container, but his arms and feet were exposed. He pulled with all his might, speeding up the barrier’s pace. Pings sounded around him. Gunfire. Several thudded into the barrel, almost knocking him down.
“Now! Get the gate locked now!” Lucien roared as he skillfully maneuvered his massive bike through the small opening. The MC President had taken his customary position at the rear of the group.
Street heaved, straining his muscles, as he hunched behind the barrel. The gate bucked in his hand. Street didn’t let go. He spotted the front tire of a motorcycle wedged in the last few inches of the gap. The biker gunned the engine, making the wheels smoke and grinding the metal of the front fender against the metal. Street kicked the wheel with his steel-toed boot. A sting and wetness told him the bastard had shot his foot. Fortunately for Street, the attacking biker’s move to aim his gun had interrupted him from accelerating. The bike rolled backward, and the gate snapped closed.