Page 37

A shot rings out, shattering the humid air. It zips past, close enough to feel the whisper of death against my skin.

“Well, fuck. Guess he’s not worried about an audience,” I mutter.

Adrenaline surges, sharp as the scent of gunpowder. I return fire, a single shot, before twisting the throttle hard. My bike leaps forward like a hellhound unleashed, and I’m racing away from the specter of the SUV.

The chase is on. I weave through the streets of New Orleans, a city both beautiful and treacherous. Jazz notes spill into the night, but there’s no romance in this ride—only the cold kiss of danger nipping at my heels.

Another shot, another miss. He’s a lousy shot, but his intent is clear. I can’t let him get a clean shot. Not tonight. Not ever.

“Shit!” I curse as I take a turn too sharply, the bike nearly kissing the pavement. The alley ahead yawns open, my escape route. But it’s narrow, lined with the refuse of the day. A man in an apron emerges from a back door, oblivious to the chaos until I’m nearly on top of him. He leaps back, cursing me out as I thunder past.

“Sorry, pal!” I shout over the roar of my engine, not sure he even hears me. I hit the gas, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of exhaust and a string of expletives.

The SUV’s headlights flicker, growing distant. I can almost taste freedom when a car appears out of nowhere, cutting him off.

Thank you, random stranger. You’ll never know it, but you saved my ass tonight.

My heart hammers against my ribs, but I don’t slow down. Not until I’m certain I’ve lost him. Only then do I allow myself a deep breath, the night air cooling the sweat on my brow. I need to get back to Isabella to make sure she’s safe.

The growl of my bike’s engine becomes a low purr as I pull into the NOLA Inn’s parking lot. My gaze flicks to the rearview mirror one last time to make sure no one’s behind me. The road’s empty. I lost the black SUV ten minutes ago, but the relief hasn’t sunk in yet. I won’t be able to relax until I see that Isabella’s safe.

As I park my bike beside several others, I spot Isabella standing safe and unharmed in the courtyard near the pool. Several men with UVMC patches are by her side.

“Isabella!” I call out, killing the engine and swinging my leg off the bike in one fluid motion. My boots hit the pavement hard as I stride toward her. She’s standing next to Fang, who’s doinghis best to appear nonchalant, but the concern is clear in those green eyes behind his thick-rimmed glasses.

“Are you okay?” I ask, scanning her from head to toe for any sign of harm. She nods, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears, her slender frame tense like a bowstring.

“I’m fine,” she assures me, her voice steady, but there’s a tremor in her hands that belies her calm façade.

Fang shoots me a look that tells me we’re not out of the woods yet. His jaw is set, and even without words, I know he’s got questions that won’t wait. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Ice.”

“Isabella was being chased. What was I supposed to do, let them take her?” I shoot back, feeling defensive despite knowing Fang isn’t the enemy here.

He crosses his arms, the muscles beneath his geeky tee straining against the fabric. “Vapor’s on his way. I called him while you were playing cat and mouse out there.”

“Great,” I mutter. The last thing I need is Vapor breathing down my neck before I’ve had a chance to check on my girl. But if anyone understands the stakes, it’s him. “Before he gets here, I need to talk to Isabella. Alone.”

Fang nods once, tight-lipped, and steps away, giving us space. Isabella’s gaze locks with mine, seeking reassurance in this storm we’ve found ourselves in. The air around us feels charged, heavy with the weight of what’s at stake. Since Isabella said she recognized the guy as one of her brother’s men, there’s no doubt in my mind that Juan was behind this. He’s going to be pissed when he finds out we helped her.

“Let’s step inside for a minute,” I tell her, motioning toward my room.

I need to see her safe within the four walls I’ve been calling home. I have to be sure she’s not about to vanish into the night like a ghost, taking part of my soul with her. Because despite allthe danger and all the chaos this relationship could bring, I can’t get Isabella off my mind. And I’ll be damned if I let the cartel—or anyone—tear her away from me.

I usher Isabella through the door of my temporary refuge. Her eyes scan the interior, taking in the exposed brick walls and the sprawling bed that anchors the space. I wonder what she makes of it all, this spartan sanctuary stripped of any personal touch.

“Is this where you’ve been since…” She trails off, but the meaning hangs clear between us—since her brother wreaked havoc on our world.

“Yep. Most of the club’s here,” I respond, locking the door behind us for good measure. “It’s crucial you don’t let anyone know about this place.”

She nods, understanding etching into her delicate features. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be right in the middle of town.”

A grin tugs at my lips despite the gravity of our situation. “Juan’s got eyes everywhere, but sometimes the best hiding spot is right under your enemy’s nose. The French Quarter’s full of tourists. It’s the last place he’d think to look.”

“Smart.”

“Sometimes.” I grin for a second before turning serious once more.

Isabella moves to the chair by the desk as if magnetized by the need to sit, to ground herself after tonight’s chaos. I perch on the edge of the bed, hands braced on my knees, keeping the distance between us respectful. It’s hard, though, not to close that gap, not to reach out and reassure both her and myself that we’ve got a handle on things.