It was her only chance to strike.
She brought her right hand forward and wanted to jam the tattoo gun and needle right into the guy’s eye and somehow kill him. There was a small hesitation and Eden ended up stabbing him in the chest. It was hardly enough to really hurt him, let alone kill him. But it was enough that he dropped the gun, fell back, and screamed.
Eden jumped over him and ran. He quickly grabbed her ankles, bringing her to the floor. A jolt of pain shot through both her knees up into her back. For a split second she was paralyzed. Looking to her left, she saw one of the men. He started to reach for what she knew had to be a gun.
Eden quickly looked over her shoulder and saw another chance. She kicked with her other foot and blasted the guy in the face. It took two hard kicks to get him to let her go. She then kicked away, got to her feet, and ran like hell. Voices were screaming at her and her body shook with intense fear, waiting for a bullet to take her life away.
She got to the back room, peeled open the plastic casing of the alarm system, and pressed the emergency button. There was no time to stand, wait, talk, whatever. Eden then bolted for the backdoor, making her final escape into the night. Somehow she had managed to keep her cell, her keys, and the picture of her mother and father. Her apartment was close enough to the shop that she didn’t have a car. That’s probably why the intruders were surprised to see her there, they only saw Dimitrio’s luxury car out front.
As Eden ran, she looked back only once, but saw nothing but darkness. Maybe a minute or so later she heard sirens. They could have been for anything, but somehow she knew they were heading for the tattoo shop.
The second she got into her apartment, she shut the door, locked it, and collapsed to the floor in a heap of sweat and tears. She hugged her knees and shook with fear and anger, trying her hardest not to relive what had just happened.
She forced herself to her feet and rushed to the kitchen sink. Leaning over, Eden lost her stomach. It ended with her dry heaving, crying, shaking. She reached for her pocket, knowing she should probably call the police and explain what had just happened. She was the only eye witness. But to what? Someone killed Dimitrio and threatened her. It was pretty obvious whoever they were, they instantly knew who her mother and father were.
Eden grabbed the picture from her pocket and examined it. She ran her thumb across the picture.
Maybe this is my sign.
“To do what? Run?” she whispered to nobody else in the apartment.
It was the most insane thing to think and perhaps do, but there was a chance those men were still out there, still looking for her. It made her want to finally do it. To go see her father. To get his help. She could explain what had happened and see what kind of man he was, if he would help her, protect her, show her a place to actually call home. With Dimitrio dead, that meant no more tattoo shop and no more job.
In the matter of a second, Eden’s entire world had been turned upside down.
She went to her bedroom and looked around. Everything was bought used. Everything had no meaning to her. The closet was full of clothes, all of which easily packed into two large suitcases. She cleaned out the bathroom of supplies she needed and grabbed a few bottles of water for the car ride.
Frelen was only a couple hours away.
This entire time, her father was just a couple hours away.
And better yet, those guys in the black masks thought they were tough?
Eden’s father was a member of an outlaw motorcycle club.
Her father part of Back Down Devil MC.
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four.
Miller stood at the head of the table. There was a massive spread of breakfast foods, a regular Sunday meal for the table. It was something Miller started a few months back, trying to bring a greater sense of family to the clubhouse. Considering there were now lots of decent women and babies showing up, he wanted to clean up the image a little.
Well, at least on the outside of the conference room.
Prospects threw some tablecloths over the pool tables and cooked breakfasts for girlfriends, mistresses, any relievers that were hanging around, trying to throw up the last bit of cum and vodka from the night before. You know, just family shit.
Trev had his fourth helping of eggs, bacon, and sausage. He washed it down with his third cup of coffee and then leaned back in the chair and let out a groan.
“You good?” Miller asked.
“What?” Trev asked. “Like nobody else is fucking eating?”
“Bro,” Blaine said, pointing, “the only thing I eat that much of and with that much passion is between a woman’s legs. Goddamn that was a lot of food.”
Trev looked up and down the table. “All the shit we have going in this club and you motherfuckers are going to worry about my eating?”
Nate started to laugh bringing the rest of the table to life.
“He does have a point,” Gaige said.