Home > Impossibly (Dante's Nine MC #1)(51)

Impossibly (Dante's Nine MC #1)(51)
Author: Colleen Masters

“Run!” I shriek, shoving Kelly out the door before me.

Shots ring out as we tear through the club, weaving through startled, frantic patrons. I grab onto Kelly’s wrist, pulling her along with me. Our small, nimble bodies move through the chaos of the club with efficient grace, and we outpace the burly men on our trail. We careen out of the club and into the whirling kaleidoscope of the casino floor.

“There are two men with guns back there,” I shout as we tear past a security team, “Big guys, suits—go!”

I glance over my shoulder as our attackers are waylaid by casino security. The last I see of them is their fierce eyes, shooting daggers at Kelly and I as we disappear from view. Down through the maze of the hotel we fly, until at last we burst through the front doors and out into the heavy August night. The sun has set on the Vegas strip, and the evening is alive with bodies and voices, light and sound.

“What the fuck, Kassie...” Kelly pants, her tiny body trembling like a leaf.

“I’ll explain everything,” I tell her, scanning the milling crowd for Declan, “Just as soon as we find—”

The familiar sound of revving motorcycle engines catches my ear. I look up and spot two Harley's rolling up to the curb—but more comforting than that is the sight of two Dante’s Nine cuts and some very familiar faces. Declan and Sam beckon us to them, calm and collected under pressure. I hand Kelly off to Sam, but her eyes are wild as she stares at his bike.

“I’m not getting on that,” she breathes.

“You have to,” I tell her.

“I’ll take care of you,” Sam assures her, offering his hand, “You’re safe with me, I promise you that.”

“Just hold on tight,” I tell her, “Please, Kelly.”

She swallows hard and lets Sam help her onto the back of his bike. The second she’s on board, I leap onto Declan’s ride, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. We take off, the four of us, speeding back down the strip. Just as we pull away, a couple of sleek town cars arrive in our wake. Out of one steps a figure I’d recognize anywhere, now: short, slick, covered in gold and diamonds. Lorenzo’s arrived to check up on his stooges—or maybe to simply drive his message home. He looks after us with a faintly amused look on his face. He knows he’s got the upper-hand, here. And that makes me want to spit.

We arrive back at our building in no time, leap off the Harley’s, and hurry inside. Our doorman Franklin looks up from his paper as we burst through the doors.

“We’ve got ourselves a bit of a situation,” Declan tells him, “If anyone unfamiliar shows up here, you know what to do.”

“Do I ever,” Franklin says. I watch in amazement as he produces a handgun from under his desk, looking rather comfortable with the weapon, for a doorman.

“Is everyone you know armed and dangerous?” I hiss to Declan as the four of us step into the elevator.

“Yes,” he says simply, “And for good reason.”

Declan pulls me against him, wrapping me up in his arms. Only now that we’re safely away from our attackers do I let the shock and fear hit me. I go slack in Declan’s embrace as Sam holds the silent, wide-eyed Kelly. No one can find a word to say as we rush into Declan’s suite. I pull Kelly over the couch, letting her body fold against mine as we huddle there together. Sam watches over us as Declan disappears into his bedroom, reemerging with an armload of guns and weaponry.

“Lorenzo wouldn’t send his men here,” Declan says, handing Sam a few choice pieces, “But I’m not taking any chances. We’ll all stay here tonight.”

“You got it,” Sam replies, arming himself to the teeth.

“I should have known that sonofabitch wouldn’t leave me alone,” Declan snarls, “But I never thought he’d stoop to this.”

Sam pulls Declan back into the bedroom and shuts the door. “Why the hell did you have to back out of the fight tomorrow, Dec?” Sam asks in a hushed tone, “You’ve come out on top in every match he’s tossed you into so far. You’d have been fine.”

“I can’t give you all the details,” Declan says, shaking his head, “Let’s just say that Lorenzo was not interested in me winning this last match.”

“What are you saying?” Sam presses.

“I’m not at liberty—” Declan begins, but Sam cuts him off, grabbing his broad shoulders.

“Fuck that,” Sam snarls, “You’re in over your head here, brother. And tonight, two innocent women almost got hurt because of that. You’ve been keeping things from the rest of us, we can all sense it. You’ve been a good soldier, going into these matches for us. We’re all grateful to you, you know that. But if you’re in trouble, we need to know. Dante’s Nine doesn’t leave its members to fend for themselves.”

“I’ve...fucked everything up,” Declan says, shaking off Sam’s hands, “This whole deal with Lorenzo has taken a turn, and it’s all on me. I’m not going to drag the rest of you into this world of shit.”

“What about Kassie, huh?” Sam demands, “You gonna drag her down—?”

“No. I’m not,” Declan snaps, “But that’s between Kassie and me.”

Choked sobs ring out through the suite as Kelly quivers against my side. She’s beside herself with fear and disbelief. I smooth down her black hair as the guys emerge from the bedroom and come over to us, concern and outrage twisting their features.

“What...the fuck...was that?” Kelly cries, looking up at all of us.

“Did they hurt you?” Sam asks, sitting beside her.

“Not much,” she sniffs, gravitating toward him, away from me.

“What did they look like?” Declan demands, sinking onto the couch next to me. “What did they say to you?”

“They were big tall guys, both bald, one had a goatee. They said that their boss has a message for you,” I tell him, my voice drained and hollow, “They said that either you fight tomorrow, or they’ll come for me again.”

Anger erupts in Declan’s deep blue eyes. His entire body is transformed by the surge of hatred that rushes through him. We sit in silence as the wheels of his mind spin furiously. And as terrifying as he is in this state, there’s something new and ominous about his silence. I can see him coming to a decision, a final choice. And I fear that there’s nothing I can do to sway him, whatever that choice might be.

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