Page 137 of Praying for Thunder

Rya didn’t move or say a word, but her left hand held out a trembling knife. The other was gripping my jeans. I could have moved her behind me, but there wasn’t a guarantee these men were who I’d been instructed to run from. My gut—instincts—had been so set on danger coming from the church.

At least, with Rya at my chest, I would be the one to get hurt by whoever might be sneaking up behind us.

The men were all somewhat hidden in the night but approaching now that they had been spotted. Their cuts weren’t of leather. They were made of jean material. I couldn’t read their club name though. Still too far away.

One man cooed, “Hello, pretty thing. You look fetching this evening.”

Fetching? Such an unusual word for a biker, so I had to suspect it meant something. That was confirmed when Rya’s hand tightened on my pants.

Her fear had heat spreading through my body. I told them, “One warning only. Stay back.”

They took another step.

I fired my gun, striking the man who had spoken to Rya. I was no chump with a gun. My ‘dad’ was the Prez of an MC, and I’d been fucking an FBI agent who preferred me alive.

As the shot man lay on the ground, screaming and holding the knee I just blew out, I cracked my neck. “I don’t know how many more people I must repeat this to tonight, but leave her out of it. You got beef with me, let’s roll.”

My girl was breathing so hard that her shoulders kept hitting my ribs. I tightened my hold around her chest. Believe it or not, she took a deep breath.

The three men stared at their buddy on the ground, then looked back at me.

One said, “You’re supposed to be nothin’ but a kid.”

Deadpan-like, I shrugged. “Surprise. I ain’t. Now, what’s it gonna be?”

Another man sneered to a buddy still standing, “He’s like his brother.”

I jolted.

The buddy agreed, “Arrogant as fuck.”

Just then, Rya released my jeans and placed her hand on my forearm, tapping it with one finger. I stared at it. What is she trying to tell me? One what? Oh, shit—

It was too late. The message of one man missing didn’t compute until his gun was at my back. He warned, “I don’t want to shoot and blow a bullet through you both, but I will if you don’t drop your gun.”

Please only hurt me. Please only hurt me.

I dropped the weapon in the leaves.

He kicked it toward his men. One retrieved it. Another tried to retrieve my girl, but she put up a hell of a fight. She swung and attempted to stab her attacker, over and over again. All the while, I fought the guy behind me. I knocked his gun from him and got in three solid punches before Rya screamed.

My knife was to her throat.

Instantly, I raised my hands, terrified. “I’m done. I’m done. Don’t hurt her.”

The man holding her had cuts all over his arms. Even one down his cheek.

Golden orbs were locked on me. I held that stare. “It’s okay, Rya. I’ll do whatever they want.”

Her shaking body began to full-out quake. Her eyes started to appear drifty, lost as she looked left to right without purpose. She was either slipping into shock or so afraid she could barely stay conscious.

With my hands still in the air to not cause her injury, I begged, “Let me help with her. I think she’s going to faint.”

The man holding the knife smiled, scooping her up. “Nope. She’s just having a seizure.”

“What?” I murmured in dismay. How did he know anything about her? Who the fuck are these men?

In this asshole’s arms, Rya’s body rattled, her eyes staring into nothing.