Finn (Dirty Misfits MC Book 6)

“You think anything’s gonna happen?” Tanner asked.

I kept my eyes on Sloane through the window of the diner as I perched on my bike. “No clue, to be honest.”

Archer cleared his throat. “Fucking hell, these damn sinuses will be the death of me.”

Cole tossed him something from the back of his bike. “Take that. It should help until we get back to the house.”

I grinned. “Ever the momma of the group.”

Cole chuckled. “Not my fault you pansy asses don’t know how to take care of yourselves.”

A chuckle ricocheted around the guys and I folded my arms over my chest. So far, so good. At least, until I saw Sloane lean forward. Beth looked like she was about to shit a fucking brick because of all the panic washing through her veins, but once I saw Sloane unraveling that cardigan from her waist I reached for the gun at my side.

“What?” Porter asked, “you hear something?”

I nodded. “Sloane’s reaching for her gun. There has to be a reason.”

And in a flash, all of us were armed.

Beth and Sloane looked so engaged in conversation at that point, and it was the only reason why I didn’t waltz up into that damn diner and pluck a booth out for myself. I still didn’t agree with someone not being in there with her, but I knew better at this point than to fight with the fucking woman. She was hell on wheels and played for the right side of the team, which made her unstoppable.

I just didn’t like that I wasn’t within arm’s reach of her.

“You think this is a trap?” Brooks murmured.

I drew in a deep breath. “I think Sloane isn’t the kind to simply posture. So, yeah, I think we need to prepare ourselves for a good ol’ fashioned shootout.”

Porter groaned. “Everyone got full magazines?”

I heard the guys checking their guns before they nodded their heads. And that was when we heard it.

Bikes rumbling down the road.

“It’s showtime,” I said breathlessly.

Brooks snapped his fingers. “You know what to do. Get into positions. We go with Plan C for now, but pivot to Plan A if necessary.”

Once we had our orders, we dumped our bikes in the shadows of the diner and took our places. I crouched down behind a couple of cars while the rest of the guys placed themselves tactfully around the diner, with Cole climbing onto the roof. The man was a fucking money some days. Hell, he didn’t even need a damn ladder to get on most rooftops.

And when we saw him perched and ready for action, the Black Flags themselves rolled into the parking lot.

Cole was the first one to take a shot, and I watched as his bullet pierced the shoulders of three guys before they fell off their bikes. I mounted my gun on the hood of a car and plucked another one in the stomach, sending him gurgling on his own blood as he tumbled to the ground. No use in waiting for them to fire shots, we knew this was an ambush. And if they got inside to those girls, we didn’t have a chance in hell of tracking them down.

So, I’d make sure they never stepped foot inside that fucking diner.

All of the guys pulled out guns from beyond their black leather jackets and started aiming them at the windows of the diner. Jesus fucking Christ, they weren’t going to shoot us, they were going to start shooting civilians. I looked back at the diner door and watched Brooks pop up, firing off rounds that took men to the ground before he ducked back down.

I tried to book it for the door so I could go find Beth and Sloane. But, the second I stood from behind the car a bullet whizzed by my head.

Taking me back to the ground.

“They’re going to kill everyone in there!” Porter yelled.

Brooks called out. “Plan A! Move, move, move!”

With the Black Flags having their prospects at their sides at all times, we were outnumbered. For every one of us, there were at least three of them, and that meant some serious fighting if we were going to get out of this alive. I rolled along the gravel parking lot, taking out ankles and knees as I ducked behind cars to try and save my own hide. I looked over at the shattered windows, listening to children crying and women screaming as they peppered the diner’s existence with bullets.

I shot at one of their prospect’s hands and caused him to drop his assault rifle, and it bought me enough time to scurry for the front door. And as I ripped it open, I caught just enough of Sloane’s backside to see her dart into the kitchen with Beth.

“Everyone, stay down! Don’t move a muscle! We’re here to help!” I exclaimed.

But, before I could start toward the kitchen, a plethora of gunfire rushed through a window to my right, sending me to the floor with my cheek pressed against the dirt-laden tiles.

And I prayed with all of my might that Sloane had an escape plan once she made it out the back exit.