Biker’s Collar: Property of Scrap (Rebel Barbarians MC #6)

Chapter 27 – Vickie

Twenty-Seven

Vickie

I knew this was too easy. We walk into apartment 113 and there he is with a grin on his face and two legs already out the window. Owen fires and misses. Hakeem jumps out the window and we just have to fucking go after him. I don’t know where the hell Owen’s backup is, but those assholes had better be close.

“VICKIE!” Owen yells at me as I run towards the window. He might have planned on firing again but he would have missed. We just have to go after this man… now.

I shove my legs through the window and have to force it open more to get my body through. I glance around behind me. Owen is gone. He must have gone after Hakeem the other way. Shit. I drop out the window onto the slightly lowered balcony, only wide enough for two people to sit and have breakfast or smoke.

Over the railing, I see Hakeem taking off across the patch of lawn separating the apartment units – on the side with the basement laundry room and storage. To my left, I can see Owen on the ground racing after him from one direction and another figure running towards Hakeem from the right.

Back up.

But I have elevation and a pretty good view of Hakeem. I might not be a great shot, but it’s worth a try. I raise the gun, try to keep my hands steady and try to line the sight up with Hakeem’s head. No way a gun this small can hit his head but again… I need to try.

My breath won’t stay steady and as the barbarians get closer to Hakeem, I only have seconds to act. The instant I think I have him in my sight, I pull the trigger.

Pull is the wrong word. That shit is sensitive. My finger barely draws on it and the noise is so damn explosive, I know my hearing took some damage. I fly backwards a little bit, but I hear a yelp. Success.

“GODDAMN IT!”

That’s Owen. But I know I didn’t hit him. Worst case, I missed Hakeem… I still can’t hear shit, but I stumble forward and lean over the balcony railing. I see a trail of blood and a flash of black leather as all the men disappear through the doorway into the apartment complex basement.

I’m not confident I can leap over this railing and land without hurting myself, so I run out of the apartment and scream loudly when I see Hakeem’s nephews standing in the hallway. These tall, lanky ass boys hit my spirit like the creepy ass twins in The Shining. Lucky for my ass, I have a gun and these boys look confused as hell.

They might not even know for sure that their uncle Hakeem is involved in some criminal shit. They look simple as hell, so I take my chances that I can pull this shit off and scare the hell out of them so I can follow Owen and Magnum into the basement. The other guy must be watching for cops or Hakeem’s lackeys, so they could use my help.

“Hands in the air.”

The young men put their hands in the air.

“Shit, you don’t need to shoot us or nothing.”

“We don’t care what Uncle Hakeem is doing. You can go after him if you want.”

They assume I’m one of his women on the run. I don’t take the time to correct them.

“Get in apartment 113,” I say sternly, waving the gun around like I’m crazy enough to shoot them both. They might be semi-grown men, but they clearly don’t have much experience being on this side of a weapon. I use their fear and inexperience to my advantage. They keep their hands in the air and walk into the room.

I shut the door to the apartment.

Then I run. I barely see where I’m headed because I’m moving so fast. I don’t think of myself as much of a runner, but I find the energy to follow their trail until I get to the grass where I think I shot Hakeem. I must have hit someone because I find blood on the ground. Lots of blood.

I follow the stream of blood to the door leading to the basement. I hear voices once I’m standing at the top of the concrete stairs. I smell sweat and adrenaline. It might be my own, maybe the three grown men. I can’t tell. I walk down the stairs, steadying myself by pressing my palm to the concrete walls.

Owen’s voice calms my heart from the freak fest happening internally.

“I’ll do it.”

“Owen, you’re fucking crazy!” Magnum says.

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

I reach the bottom of the stairs and see Hakeem seated at a small, round table. He clutches his bleeding shoulder. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to swell with pride at the fact that I actually hit this motherfucker’s arm. There are dice on the table and Owen is looking at them with that fierce, irresponsible look on his face.

“What’s going on?”

Neither Hakeem, nor Owen can look at me directly. I don’t think either of them want to. The gruff biker playing the role of back up here clearly can’t get Owen to stop whatever the fuck is going on down here. I sense that it’s bad.

“He’s obviously lying,” Magnum says to Owen through gritted teeth. “You fucking Shaws never met a game you didn’t want to play.”

“Think of what we stand to gain.”

“Think of what we stand to lose,” Magnum says. But I can tell Owen hasn’t given a single thought to what he stands to lose.

“It’s a dice game,” he says. “The odds are in our favor now more than they are during a winter parlay across three sports.”

“There’s a little more at stake here than your beer money.”

“Owen. Just shoot his ass,” I snap, because honestly, what the fuck are these men doing here?

I raise my gun to Hakeem’s head and he raises an eyebrow at me. Owen raises his hand to stop me. I promised I would trust him, so I don’t pull the trigger.

“Don’t, Vickie. We’re making a deal.”

“You’re fucking gambling, Owen.”

“What’s he gambling?” I ask.

Magnum grimaces and gives me a stern look that sends a chill straight through me. “Fucking everything, princess. Including you.”

“Don’t scare her.”

“Is it true?”

“You have three tries to hit seven,” Hakeem says. Owen pulls out the chair and sits with his legs spread. He still doesn’t look at me. This man makes me so crazy that I almost want to raise the gun and shoot his ass instead of Hakeem’s. My hearing is still muffled from the gunshot earlier so trust me, I really don’t want to believe that this shit is happening right now.

“Owen, you can’t be serious.”

It occurs to me that Owen could kill this man, anyway. But I know him.

“I told you to trust me, Vickie.”

“I trusted you when the plan was shooting Hakeem.”

I sound hysterical and I’m still tempted to just… do it. I search the face of Owen’s companion for signs that he’s feeling my spirit of rebellion. He just looks obedient. I want to scream. More importantly, I want to shoot.

Owen’s hands swipe over the table and I barely see him grab the dice. His hands move like a rattlesnake’s tail as he shakes the dice around. The noise is too quiet for my fucked up hearing to make out properly. Owen’s companion looks over at me.

“Southpaw lost his girl in a game like this one. Anything happens to you… I don’t know if we’ll come find you.”

“Thanks.”

“Better hope he wins.”

“Everyone in this room had better hope he wins,” I mutter under my breath. I don’t know if Hakeem has back up, but I’m hoping those nephews of his stay locked up tight so this situation doesn’t get worse.

“Come on,” Hakeem taunts Owen. “Lucky number seven. You just have to hit it once and everything is yours – I will legally sign over to you all my businesses in Las Vegas and give you the key to a safety deposit box with an additional $300,000.”

Okay, maybe Owen has a point that there’s a lot to gain. But Magnum doesn’t look so confident, which means what he stands to lose must be… monumental. My stomach is already sitting in my ass because I have seen Owen gamble every cent of his net worth in the past.

And Magnum’s implications are that somehow… my life is on the line too.

I don’t want to believe Owen would do that and then punctuate it with a flippant ass “trust me”. The dice scatter across the table. I try to peer over his broad shoulders to see the number.

I wish I was taller.