Page 17 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)

THOR

The world narrows to a single purpose as I speed through the streets of Vegas—keep Charlotte alive.

V comes through with the address within minutes of my call, sending coordinates to a discreet Airbnb tucked away in a quiet neighborhood off the Strip. The stucco house looks like any other on the block—beige exterior, desert landscaping, detached garage—perfect for disappearing.

I cut the engine and feel Charlotte's arms loosen from their death grip around my waist. She's been trembling against my back for the entire ride, her face pressed between my shoulder blades. The adrenaline that kept her moving has crashed, leaving her pale and shaky.

“We're here,” I say, swinging my leg over the bike and turning to help her. Her legs buckle as she dismounts, and I catch her easily, sweeping her against my chest, “I've got you.”

“I can walk,” she protests weakly, but her hands clutch at my cut, betraying her fear.

“Humor me.”

I carry her to the front door, punching in the code V texted me with one hand while keeping her secure with the other.

The lock clicks open, and I kick the door shut behind us, scanning the interior in one practiced sweep—modern furniture, open floor plan, security system panel by the door, decent sight lines, minimal blind spots.

Charlotte shivers in my arms as I set her gently on the plush sectional sofa. Her eyes dart around the unfamiliar room, wide with panic. Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession, breath coming in short gasps. Her fear cuts me deeper than any knife could.

“They knew my name,” she says, voice breaking. “How did they know who I was? Why were they calling me their 'mark'? What do they want with me?” Each question comes faster than the last.

I kneel in front of her, taking her trembling hands in mine, “Charlotte, look at me. Breathe with me, sweetheart. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

She tries to follow my lead, but her breath hitches. “I can't?—”

“You can,” I say firmly, squeezing her hands. “Focus on me. Nothing else matters right now. Just us, in this moment.”

I exaggerate my breathing, making it deep and slow. After a few false starts, she begins to match my rhythm. The color gradually returns to her cheeks.

“That's it,” I murmur, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You're safe here. No one knows about this place except my tech guy, and he's the best in the business.”

“You’re going back for Minny, right? If anything happened to her…”

“She’s my next stop as soon as I know you’ll be okay for a little bit.”

“I'll be fine,” she says, though her tone wavers. “Just bring her back safely.”

I study her face, noting the forced bravery in her expression. Charlotte's putting on a front, trying to be strong when she's anything but. The woman who was laughing on that zip-line yesterday is gone, replaced by someone haunted and afraid.

“There's a security system,” I tell her, standing and moving to the panel by the door. “I'm going to arm it when I leave. Don't open this door for anyone but me or Minny. You understand?”

She nods, wrapping her arms around herself, “How long will you be gone?”

“An hour, maybe less. Give me your phone.” She reaches into her purse and pulls it out, putting it into my hand. I punch in my number and V’s office line into her contacts. “If anything feels wrong—anything at all—you call the contact under V. He'll have people here in minutes.”

“V?”

“My tech guy. The one who found this place.” I move to the kitchen, checking the windows and back door. All secure. “He's got more eyes on this city than the NSA.”

Charlotte watches me pace the room, “You're really worried about this, aren't you?”

I stop mid-stride, turning to face her. The truth sits heavy in my chest—I'm more than worried. I'm terrified. Someone targeted her, which means this is no accident. It means they know something about her that I don't, and that knowledge could get her killed.

“Yes,” I admit, coming back to kneel in front of her again. “This isn't some random casino creep trying his luck. This was coordinated. They knew your name, knew who you were before they even approached you.”

Her face pales further. “But why me? I'm nobody important.”

The question hangs between us, and I wish I had an answer that wouldn't terrify her more. Instead, I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing her cheekbones.

“You're important to me,” I say, the words escaping before I can stop them. “And right now, that's all that matters.”

She presses her forehead to mine, “Be careful. Please.”

I capture her lips in a kiss that's meant to be brief but deepens instantly, desperation fueling us both. Her hands clutch at my shirt, pulling me closer as if she can anchor herself to safety through my touch. When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.

“Lock the door behind me,” I order, reluctantly pulling away. “Set the alarm. Call Minny as soon as I’m gone and tell her I’m coming.”

She nods, following me to the door. As I step outside, I turn back to see her silhouetted in the doorway, small and vulnerable despite her brave face. I watch her for a few seconds before I head for my bike.

I race through the streets of Vegas, the wind whipping against my face as I weave between cars. My mind churns with possibilities, each more nefarious than the last. Who the fuck would target Charlotte? What connection could she possibly have to this situation?

The hotel comes into view, and I gun the engine, cutting through traffic with practiced precision. I park in the loading zone, not giving a shit about hotel policy.

The lobby is bustling with tourists, oblivious to the danger lurking in their midst. I keep my head down, scanning for any sign of the men Charlotte described. Nothing seems out of place, but that doesn't mean they're not here.

I take the stairs instead of the elevator, two at a time, until I reach my floor. Outside my room, I pause, listening. Muffled sobbing comes from inside. I unlock the door and push it open to find Minny pacing frantically, phone clutched in her grip.

“Oh, thank God!” she cries, rushing toward me. “Is she okay? She sounded terrified on the phone.”

“She's safe,” I cut her off, moving past her to grab my backpack. “We’re leaving.”

“We?”

“I don’t have time for twenty questions. We're going to your room now. Pack everything—yours and Charlotte's. Five minutes, no more.”

I check the hallway before leading her out, keeping my body between her and any potential threat. My hand rests on the knife concealed at my waist, ready to draw at the slightest provocation. The corridor remains empty as we make our way to the elevator.

We descend in silence, the cheerful elevator music a jarring contrast to the tension radiating between us. When we reach her floor, I scan the hallway before allowing her to exit.

I position myself by the door of their room as she swipes the keycard. “Pack now, talk later,” I remind her as we enter.

Minny moves with surprising efficiency, throwing Charlotte's belongings into her suitcase while I stand guard. I keep my back to the wall, eyes fixed on the door, ears straining for any suspicious sounds.

She zips the last suitcase and turns to face me, “I need to know something. Are you using my best friend?”

I turn, my jaw clenching, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. She's been through hell, and she's vulnerable. If you're just looking for an easy lay?—”

“Watch your fucking mouth. That woman means more to me than you could possibly understand.”

“After two days?”

“After two fucking minutes.” I step closer, and she doesn't back down. I respect that. “I'd die before I let anyone hurt her. You got that?”

“Okay. But if you break her heart?—”

“I won't. We need to move.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.” I grab her bag and Charlotte's.

We head back toward the elevator, but I stop short when I hear voices echoing from the stairwell. Male voices, talking in low, urgent tones.

“Check the room again. She has to come back eventually.”

“Fuck,” I breathe, grabbing Minny's arm and pulling her back down the hallway. “We're taking the freight elevator.”

“What's wrong?” she whispers, stumbling to keep up with my pace.

“They're here.”

I find the service elevator at the end of the hall, jamming the call button repeatedly. The voices grow closer, footsteps echoing in the stairwell. The elevator doors slide open with agonizing slowness, and I shove Minny inside, hitting the button for the parking garage.

“What if they hurt Charlie?”

“They won't get the chance.” The elevator lurches downward, and I pull out my phone, speed-dialing V. He answers on the first ring.

“How's our girl?”

“Alive. But they're at the hotel looking for her. I need you to run interference, and her friend needs a lift.”

“On it. I'm cutting the hotel's security feeds now. Looping old footage so they can't track your movements. What else do you need?”

“Keep monitoring the area around the safe house. If anyone so much as looks sideways at that street, I want to know about it.”

“Copy that. I've also got something else for you—ran a deeper dive on Charlotte's background like you asked. Found some interesting connections.”

My jaw tightens. “What kind of connections?”

“Her ex-husband? Terrance Roberts? He's got ties to some unsavory characters in LA. Money laundering, loan sharking, the works. Guy's been flying under the radar, but his name keeps popping up in federal investigations.”

The elevator dings as we reach the parking level. I guide Minny toward my bike, processing V's words. “You think this is connected to her divorce?”

“Maybe. Or maybe someone thinks she knows more than she does. Not to mention Ace’s meeting with the band of guys who tried to drug her, it’s either the ex-husband or Ace. Either way, it’s not good.”

“Keep digging. I'll be back at the safe house in twenty.”

I hang up and turn to Minny, who is staring at my motorcycle with wide eyes.

“I am not riding on that back of that thing.”

“Wasn’t going to ask you to,” I snap. My bag is one thing, but there’s no room for her and both of their suitcases. “There’s a car coming for you and the bags. Should be here soon. I’m following you there.”

My phone vibrates, and I check the screen—a text from V with details on the car service.

Black SUV, three minutes out. Driver's name is Marco. He’s a friend. Don’t kill him. Fucker owes me a favor.

We wait in tense silence, my eyes constantly scanning the garage. When a black Escalade pulls up, I approach cautiously, hand on my concealed weapon. The driver lowers his window—mid-fifties, salt-and-pepper beard, ink peeking from his collar.

“Marco?” I confirm.

He nods.

I load the suitcases into the trunk while Minny climbs into the backseat. “Follow me,” I instruct Marco. “If we get separated, head straight to the address V gave you. No stops.”

“Got it, brother.”

I mount my bike, kick-starting the engine with more force than necessary. The rage I've been suppressing threatens to boil over, but I push it down. Rage makes you sloppy. Rage gets people killed. And Charlotte needs me to think clearly.

The ride back to the safe house takes longer than I'd like, with me constantly checking my mirrors to ensure we're not being followed.

Every red light feels like an eternity, every car that follows us for more than a few blocks sets my teeth on edge.

But we make it without incident, Marco pulling into the driveway just as I cut the engine.

I'm off the bike and at the front door before he's even parked, Minny not far behind, punching in the code with shaking hands.

The door swings open, and Charlotte appears in the doorway.

She runs to her the second they lock eyes.

The reunion is a mess of tears and frantic questions, both women talking over each other.

I give them their moment while I help Marco with the bags, slipping him a roll of bills for his trouble.

“Anything else you need?” he asks, eyeing the quiet neighborhood.

“Just keep your mouth shut about this place.”

He nods, understanding passing between us, “V's good people. Anyone who's got his back has mine too.”

After he leaves, I lock up and reset the security system, then turn to find both women watching me expectantly. Charlotte's eyes are red from crying, but she looks steadier now with her friend here.

“We need to talk,” I say, gesturing toward the living room.

They follow me, Charlotte perches on the edge of the sofa while Minny hovers protectively beside her. I remain standing, too wired to sit, my body vibrating with tension as I try to organize my thoughts.

“You were right. What happened at the club wasn’t random. They are targeting you.”

“Why me?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out, but for right now, you going back home is off the table.”

Minny paces behind the couch, her hands twisting nervously. “What about me? What about my family? Are my kids and husband in danger, too?”

I shake my head, watching her carefully, “Everything we've seen suggests they're solely focused on Charlotte. Your name hasn't come up in any of our intel.” I run a hand through my hair, considering the best approach, “It's probably best if you leave as planned tomorrow. Go home to your family.”

“Leave Charlie? I can’t leave her like this.”

“Yes, you can. They can use you against her. Plus, it might actually give us an advantage,” I explain. “If they think Charlotte's gone too, it could buy us time to figure out what the hell is going on.”

Charlotte's head snaps up, “Oh my God—they could go to my house.” Her face drains of color. “What about Shadow?”

“Don't worry about the cat. I can get someone to watch your house. We've got a chapter near San Simeon.”

Her shoulders sag with relief, “What do we do now?”

“We stay here. My club is working on getting information. Tomorrow, I'll personally take Minny to the airport. After that, we'll figure it out.”

“That's it? That's the plan? Just hide out and hope they don't find us?”

“It's not hiding,” I tell her. “It's strategic positioning while we collect information. There's a distinction.”

I approach the window, positioning myself to look through the blinds without being seen from outside.

The street is quiet, with just a few cars parked along the curb and a kid lazily cycling in circles.

Nothing appears suspicious, but that doesn't guarantee our safety.

There are too many players involved, and until I determine who is targeting Charlotte, there's only one course of action. Protect her at all costs.