Keys To My Cuffs (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 4) (17 page)

If what Cleo said was true, I was about to bust some faces.

What I saw when I came up to the dance floor set my blood to boiling.

The dance floor was little more than a twenty by twenty section of floor to the right of the bar. Most of the time it had a long table that could easily seat twenty if you squeezed them in tight, taking up that spot.

However, on my way out to talk with Eurie, I’d asked Dixie to have a few of the boys move the table to the wall and stack the chairs so I could dance with Channing when I got back in.

In the very middle of the ‘dance floor’ was the fire pole.

A police and firefighter themed bar just wouldn’t be complete without one. At the time we’d put the big bastard up, I’d thought it was perfect. Now, however, I wanted to rip that motherfucker from the ceiling and bash every man within a ten-foot radius with it.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I hadn’t been aware that I was going to bellow until the words poured from my mouth.

It was one hell of a shout, though.

It quieted everyone and everything, besides the music, which cut off shortly after everything became so deathly quiet.

Channing, who’d been at the top of the fire pole hanging upside down, slowly grabbed the pole and slid down.

When her feet hit the ground, both men who’d been standing beside the pole steadied her unsteady feet.

She smiled thankfully at Sterling and his friend, Parker.

Parker was a young kid, just turning twenty-two a couple weeks before, according to Sterling.

He’d come down on leave with Sterling, and would spend the next three weeks of their shore leave here before they were ordered back to base.

“I believe my girl was showing off her hooker skills,” Colton said from behind me, drawing my attention.

I turned and glared at the man.

“Was she now?” I asked in a deceptively calm tone.

“Yep. She started taking those hooker classes in college. Her momma would be rolling in her grave if she’d seen what I’d just saw,” Colton glared at his daughter.

The boy wonder twins snickered and walked off, lucky to be alive.

Channing started to walk away as well, but I moved quickly, looping my arm around her waist and pulling her back into me.

“Not so fast, Channing,” I breathed against her neck causing her to shiver. “You owe me a dance.”

“Your dance walked out the door when you did,” she snarled.

I buried my nose into the crook of her beck and smiled at the jealousy in her tone. “Jealous?” I teased.

The music snapped back on, and a Randy Travis song started to fill the room.

She stiffened in my arms. “Were you?” She snapped right back.

“She’s a co-worker,” I told her, starting to sway my hips and torso to the beat.

“You’ve had sex with her,” she stated.

I pushed my raging cock until it dug into her ass. “She doesn’t make my dick hard. You do. What happened in the past is still in the past.”

I knew it wasn’t going to work.

Women didn’t let shit like this go. They picked it to death, and the only way to get them to stop was to tell them what they wanted to hear, or keep their mouth busy.

Since I couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, I grabbed ahold of her wavy auburn locks, and tipped her head back before I placed my mouth over hers.

She moaned into my mouth, and started to lean into the kiss when a loud piercing whistle tore through the air. Bawdy catcalls filled the air as the people around us started to pay attention to our show.

She yanked her face, and then her body, away from me so fast that I stumbled forward.

I was just catching my balance when I saw the back of her weaving through the crowd, now dancing to a Johnny Cash song.

“My girl’s a fighter. Better go catch her before she jacks your ride and you can’t catch her,” Colton’s amused voice said from behind me.

“She wouldn’t,” I narrowed my eyes at the door.

“So...did she make all your men?” he asked conversationally, inquiring about Channing noticing all of the security I had following her.

I cursed and started to dodge bodies as I hustled towards the door.

I didn’t find her trying to jack my bike though.

No, I found her jacking her father’s rig.

I ran up to the side of the truck and jumped onto the step, looping my hand around the mirror for balance.

Channing had closed and re-locked the door, and she didn’t look up from what she was doing between her legs, which was hot wiring the truck, I was surprised to see.

“Your dad’s going to kick your ass,” I mused, leaning my head against the glass.

“My dad can suck it,” came her muffled reply.

The truck’s powerful engine rolled over with a dull roar, and she put the truck in first before she started to inch forward. She also rolled the window down a third of the way so she could hear me.

“Get off the truck,” her angered eyes glared towards mine.

I refused. “No.”

“Now,” she demanded.

“No.” I repeated.

Her head went back in exasperation as she slammed hard on the brakes. Although, I’d anticipated that, I braced myself against the smoke stack.

“Get off and walk around, I’ll wait for you,” she lied.

I laughed. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

She was breathing hard now.

“Jesus Christ,” she snarled.

“Come on, unlock the door and ride home with me,” I said loudly.

She shook her head. “I can’t. I have to get my car and drive it home.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Then why did you hotwire this when you could’ve gone to your car the entire time?”

She shrugged. “I was mad at him. He deserved it. Then again, you’re not doing so hot, either.”

While she was glaring at me, she failed to see her father running up the other side of the truck and open the cab with his keys.

She snarled an oath, and then opened the door before she started to swing down.

I moved out of the way quickly as the door swung open.

She stepped down onto the step and jumped the short distance to the ground before stomping her way towards her car.

I caught up t
o her half way to her car. Since I was
only yards away from my bike, I grabbed hold of her arm and swung her towards me.

“Hey,” I growled. “Ride with me.”

She yanked her arm from my grasp, and the bracelet she was wearing slipped off her hand and swung in an arc to the ground, two cars away.

We both walked towards it at the same time, bending down and bumped our heads.

It was the comical way, where both parties bang their heads, and then fall over onto their asses.

The next five seconds played as expected.

We both started laughing, and when I moved to help her stand, bullets started hitting the car we were parked behind, peppering it like one would with a paintball gun.

Instinctively, I tackled Channing to the ground, and started rolling.

I kept rolling through the gap in the tires of the truck we’d been standing beside until I couldn’t roll anymore.

Then I crouched over her, extracted my Glock from my ankle holster and handed it to her.

She was laying on her back, staring up at me in fear.

“Here,” I said as I shoved the gun into her hand. “You know how to work that?”

I asked the question without looking at her, knowing that she did, but wanting confirmation.

“Yes,” she said. “One in the chamber?”

“Yes,” I whispered, once the shooting stopped.

The night air was still as I reached for the .45 that was at the small of my back and extracting it.

“What...” I placed my hand over her mouth, silencing whatever she was about to say.

She froze, looking at me with fearful eyes. She nodded silently and I removed my hand from her mouth before taking another look around.

The part of the parking lot we were in was near the back of the lot where the lighting was worst. Which was why I didn’t see the gunmen coming until he already had his rifle up and shooting.

Burning fire exploded in my right arm, making my grip on my .45 loosen until it fell uselessly to the ground.

That didn’t stop Channing, though.

She raised her arm up, pointing upside down at the man, and squeezed the trigger. The gun exploded beside my ear, momentarily stealing my ability to hear.

It didn’t fuck with my vision, though.

I saw the man drop like a house of cards.

The phone in my pocket started buzzing, and I quickly withdrew it with my uninjured hand.

“Rector,” I barked.

“Status?” Trance asked in alarm.

I took in the scene.

The man was writhing on the ground; I slowly walked on my knees toward him, keeping my gun trained on him the entire way.

Once I got close enough, I stood and crouched, kicking the man’s gun away from his reach in a spray of gravel.

“One shooter down. I’m not sure if there’s more, but I’m staying where I am. The shooter’s down, but not dead. Channing’s with me. I’ve been shot in the arm,” I stated crisply.

“10-4.” I heard a few yards away, and then immediately after, through the receiver of my phone.

“Over here.” I called loudly.

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

The word was repeated over and over again as fifteen people poured out of the shadows.

That was one benefit of being at a cop and MC owned joint. There was no shortage of people knowing what to do. There was also no need to call the cops, because there were six already there: three in uniform, and three in plains clothes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Channing take Trance’s offered hand as she was lifted up to her feet.

She murmured a thank you before heading to me.

“Oh, God. Your arm looks disgusting,” she cried.

Several chuckles followed her statement, including my own.

“Thanks,” I said amusingly.

She poked at it with a lone finger. “Does it hurt?”

Just that fine of a touch was enough to shoot shards of pain down my arm in droves.

“Ow, fuck. Lay off, woman!” I called out loudly.

I kept my eye on the writhing man, and was amused to see that Channing’s aim was true.

“You shot him up his dick and into his belly,” I mused.

“His insides are probably the consistency of soup,” Channing observed.

That was the truth. I had hollow points in all of my guns. If anything was worth doing, it was worth doing right, in my opinion.

Hollow points were made to expand and mushroom once they hit something. Let it be flesh or wood. If it comes into contact with the bullet, you best believe that whatever it hits will be destroyed.

Police used it to have minimal collateral damage. If a bullet were to hit something, it was made not to travel.

“D-do you think he’ll l-live?” Channing stuttered.

“Maybe,” I hedged.

There was no way the guy was going to live. His internal organs were probably more the consistency of stew rather than soup, but the outcome was still the same. He wasn’t going to make it, but I didn’t want Channing to know that yet. Not until I had my arm taken care of, and we were in the privacy of one of our homes.

The sirens started to break the silence of the night, and in two short minutes, two cop cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck arrived on scene.

Then there was The Chief.

“What the fuck happened, Rector?” The Chief snarled as I was being looked over by a paramedic.

The paramedic, Dallas, replied. “Well, it’s obvious to me he was shot. Is that not obvious to you?”

Dallas had a mouth on him, and he couldn’t be serious in any situation. When it came to authority figures, he rebelled; hence, why he smarted off to the Chief of Police.

Cabe gave Dallas a withering glare, but Dallas didn’t react in the least, which caused Cabe to turn his glare back on me.

He raised his eyebrows at me as if saying ‘well?’

Sighing, I started to explain.

Once I was finished, Cabe stared up at the night sky in resignation. “What the fuck is with you Dixie Wardens? I’m so goddamned tired of the lot of you getting into trouble. Goddammit. I was in bed with my wife. Do you know how fucking rare it is to get there this fucking early in the evening? That’s right. Pretty fucking rare.”

Channing’s amused giggle sounded from behind Cabe, and Cabe turned to glare at her, but softened once he realized who he was glaring at.

“You okay, honey?” He asked.

She smiled tiredly at him.

“I’m doing better than you, by the sound of it,” she quipped.

“Killing. Raping. Shooting. Jesus Christ, Rector. You’re like the fucking plague, leaving death and gore in your wake,” Cabe sighed.

The reminder of what was following me sobered my face instantly, wiping away any traces of humor.

“Yes, sir,” I muttered.

Cabe turned and placed his hands on his hips. “I think you need to get the fuck outta here for a couple of weeks. Take Channing and go visit your folks for the holidays. I’ll see if we can get Varian moved to the new facility this week instead of the next. You had some leave, anyway.”

Something inside of me told me that was the correct move for now. Whom
ever was playing the game with me knew the rules, and I didn’t. What better way to quit the game than to remove
myself from the game board. If I wasn’t here, and Channing wasn’t here, the challenger wouldn’t have any other recourse but to resign, too.

At least I’d hoped.

There was nothing left for me to do, not with my authority to investigate stripped away.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Apparently, a lot.

I like your dick and I cannot lie. My orgasm is the reason why.

-Text from Channing to Loki

Loki

“Why do we have to stay here?” Channing asked as she walked around the cabin.

“Because it’s not safe to stay at our places when people have been shooting at us. And it’s not fair to our neighbors,” I said dryly.

She stuck her tongue out. “I understand that, butthead. I was more saying why here, in particular. Why not a hotel...or just leave tonight.”