Page 18

Chief

“She needs a hospital.” I cradled Cora’s unconscious body against my chest as I maneuvered her over to Rage’s truck and carefully placed her in the back seat.

Fuck.

She was so pale, her usually sun-kissed skin was ashen beneath the bloom of bruises. Blood from the dog bite had soaked through her jeans, the denim now stiff and dark.

Every time my eyes landed on another injury—the swollen eye, the gash at her temple, the torn skin at her wrists—rage boiled hotter in my veins.

Spike was a dead man walking.

I brushed a strand of blood stained hair from Cora’s face, my hand shaking with the effort of being gentle when all I wanted was to destroy the motherfucker who’d done this to her.

My SAA glanced over. “Doc can handle this, Prez. Taking her to Jacksonville General means questions neither of us want to answer.”

I knew Rage was right. A hospital meant cops and questions about how she’d gotten the injuries. It meant explaining the dog bite, the defensive wounds on her hands, the bruises on her wrists.

But fuck, she looked bad.

I’d seen plenty of battle wounds in my time, but seeing them on Cora felt like someone had stuck a knife in my goddamn chest.

“If Doc thinks it’s more serious, I’ll take her to the hospital myself,” Rage promised, his voice unusually gentle as he watched me hover over my girl.

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Rage was right. “Take care of her,” I said, my voice a low rasp.

I closed the truck door, turning to find Beckett standing behind me, his tall frame hunched with exhaustion and something else. Guilt. It was written all over his bruised face.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. “It’s my fault. I should’ve?—”

I put a hand on his shoulder and shook my head. “You’re a kid, Beck. It was my job to keep you both safe, and I let you down.” My voice was rough, scraping past the knot in my throat.

His face crumpled, and before I knew what was happening, he was surging forward, wrapping his skinny arms around my middle and burying his face in my cut. I held my arms out, unsure what to do with this unexpected show of emotion.

“She tried to protect me,” he mumbled against the leather.

Something fierce I’d never felt before unfurled in my chest as I listened to this kid—this brave, loyal kid who’d tried to protect my woman. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him tight as he shuddered against me.

It hit me then, like a punch to the gut, how much I’d come to care about Beckett. He wasn’t just some charity case I’d taken in. He was more than that. He felt like... mine. Like a son.

Jesus Christ. When had that happened?

Gently, I pushed him back, keeping my hands on his shoulders as I looked him in the eye. “I need you to go with Rage and let Doc check you over.”

He nodded, wiping roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand. “What about you? Aren’t you coming?”

A muscle ticked in my jaw as I struggled to keep my voice level. “I’ve got business to take care of.”

Something in my tone must have conveyed exactly what kind of ‘business’ I meant, because his eyes widened fractionally before his expression hardened. “Make him pay,” he said quietly.

“Count on it,” I promised, watching as he climbed into the passenger seat of Rage’s truck.

I stood there until the taillights disappeared around the corner, the rage I’d been containing threatening to boil over now that Cora and Beckett were safely on their way to the clubhouse.

Turning back to my brothers, I felt my face shift into something cold and deadly.

“I want that motherfucker alive,” I growled.

Morpheus nodded, his expression grim. “Beckett told us where Spike took them. Warehouse on the east docks. The kid said it was full of crates marked ‘explosives’.”

My jaw clenched. Explosives? What the fuck had that tweaker piece of shit gotten himself involved in?

“Lead the way,” I said, already striding toward my bike.

We mounted up, the roar of seven Harleys shattering the quiet night as we took off down the street. The wind whipped past my face, but I barely felt it. All I could focus on was the image of Cora’s battered body and the promise of what I was going to do to the man responsible.

We’d barely gone a few blocks when headlights appeared behind us. The club van pulled up alongside us and I saw Cueball behind the wheel and Lid in the passenger seat.

Swallowing the fury building inside me, I twisted the throttle and flew past them. I couldn’t look at them right now. Not when what I wanted to do was pull my gun and put them down for failing my woman.

Another two blocks and I pulled to a stop behind Morph. The van once again came up beside me and I could feel my blood pressure spiking at the sight of the two prospects who’d fucked everything up. They had one job. One goddamn job and they failed miserably.

The van pulled up beside us, and both prospects scrambled out, their faces pale with fear and guilt.

“Chief, we’re so sorry—” Cueball started, tripping over his word in a rush to apologize.

“She asked us to get the kid some shoes and—” Lid chimed in at the same time.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it,” I snapped, cutting them both off with a glare that had them snapping their mouths shut like they’d been slapped.

They were in deep shit and they knew it. If they’d followed orders, if they’d kept their fucking eyes on Cora and Beckett like they were supposed to, none of this would’ve happened. But punishment would have to wait. Right now, I had a more pressing target for my rage.

Morpheus moved to stand beside me, recognizing that I was two seconds away from doing something I might regret. “Lid, Cueball, stay put. We’ll call when we need the van brought in.”

Both prospects nodded, looking like they’d rather face a firing squad than my wrath when this was all over.

Killer dismounted, pulling bolt cutters from his saddlebag without a word. With a single, powerful squeeze, the lock fell away, and he handed the bolt cutters to Havoc before stepping back.

A tall chain-link fence surrounded the property, topped with razor wire. Through the fence, I could make out a familiar white panel van parked near a loading dock.

“That’s the van from the mall security footage,” Morpheus confirmed, his voice low.

Dread shoved the gate open, the hinges protesting with a rusty squeal that seemed too loud in the quiet night.

We moved through the darkness like shadows, bikes left outside to keep the element of surprise. As we approached the warehouse, angry voices carried through the air.

“...fucking bitch! How the hell did she get out?” The voice was high-pitched, agitated. Spike.

I gripped my gun tighter, fantasizing about putting a bullet through his skull. But no. That would be too quick, too merciful.

Morpheus signaled with his hand, directing Killer and Havoc to circle around the back of the building, while Dread and Reign covered the side entrance. That left Morph and me to take the front.

“Ready?” he mouthed.

I nodded, chambering a round.

We approached the front entrance, moving silently despite the overwhelming urge to kick the door down and start shooting. Morpheus pressed his back to the wall beside the door, nodding at me to take the other side.

The angry voices inside grew clearer.

“—completely fucked now! They’ll be coming for us!”

“Shut the fuck up! I’ve got connections, all right? The Russians’ll handle that piece of shit.”

“The fucking Russians aren’t going to save your ass from Chief, man!”

“Now,” Morpheus murmured.

We burst through the door, guns raised. The scene inside was surreal. Spike sat perched on a wooden crate marked ‘EXPLOSIVES’ in red lettering, a glass pipe in one hand, lighter in the other.

Two other men, presumably the ones who’d helped kidnap Cora and Beckett, sat in folding chairs a few feet away, phones in their hands. All three froze at the sight of us, their eyes going wide with shock.

Morpheus didn’t hesitate. He fired off two shots in rapid succession, both shots finding their marks in the heads of Spike’s men. Their bodies slumped forward, phones clattering to the concrete floor as blood and brain matter painted the wall behind them.

I barely registered the gunshots. My focus had narrowed to a pinpoint, centered on Spike’s gaunt face as recognition, then fear, flickered across it.

Spike leapt to his feet, pipe shattering when it hit the ground.

“Fuck!” he yelped, scrambling backward. “Chief, listen, I can exp?—”

I didn’t let him finish.

With a roar, I launched at him, taking him to the ground. My fist connected with his face, the impact jarring my arm all the way to the shoulder. But I felt nothing but satisfaction as his nose crunched beneath my knuckles.

“Wait—”

“You fucking touched her,” I snarled, punctuating each word with another blow. “Put your hands on her. Hurt her. Hurt my kid.”

Spike’s feeble attempts to block my assault were useless. Each punch drove the rage deeper, feeding the fury inside me instead of sating it. I wasn’t even aware of the others in the room until I felt Killer’s massive hands grabbing my shoulders, physically hauling me off my prey.

“Easy,” he rumbled in my ear. “Kill him now, won’t get what you need from him.”

I struggled against Killer’s grip for a moment before the logic of his words penetrated the red haze of my fury.

He was right.

I needed Spike alive. At least for now.

Looking down at what I’d done, I felt a savage satisfaction. Spike’s face was barely recognizable, a pulpy mess of blood and broken bone. One eye was completely swollen shut, teeth scattered across the floor beside him. He made a wet, gurgling noise, trying to draw breath through his broken nose.

Good.

I hoped he fucking choked.

Morp pulled out a burner and punched in a number. “Bring the van around,” he ordered before ending the call.

Then he turned to Dread and Havoc. “Find the keys for the other van. Get all these crates loaded and take them to the warehouse.” Then his eyes came to me. “You done because we need him alive so we can find out what the fuck he was planning.”

Was I done?

No, I didn’t think I was.

I circled back to Spike, who was groaning on the floor, blood bubbling from his lips. Visions of my woman’s battered face flashed in my mind and I drove my boot into his ribs, feeling something give beneath the force of the kick.

“That’s for Cora,” I hissed before lifting my boot and kicking him again. “And that’s for Beckett.”

I straightened my cut. “I’m good for now.”

Morpheus’s phone beeped with a text. He glanced down then looked back at me, his expression was carefully neutral. “What do you want to do with him?” he asked, nodding toward Spike’s crumpled form.

A slow, cold smile spread across my face as I wiped blood from my knuckles onto my jeans, never taking my eyes off the broken man at my feet. “Take him to the Box. I’m nowhere near done with him.”

Killer stepped forward, grabbing Spike by his filthy shirt and hauling him up. Spike’s head lolled, his legs unable to support his weight as Killer dragged him toward the exit.

Morpheus’s phone beeped again with another incoming text. He glanced at it, then back at me. “We’ve got this under control, Prez. You should go check on your woman and kid.”

I drew in a deep breath, some of the blind rage finally ebbing away at the mention of Cora and Beckett. My woman and my kid. The words echoed in my head, settling something inside me that I hadn’t even realized was unsettled.

“Call me when you get him secured,” I said, already heading for the door.

The ride back to the clubhouse was a blur, my mind cycling between images of Cora’s battered face, the satisfaction of feeling Spike’s bones break beneath my fists, and the overwhelming feeling of relief I’d felt when Beckett hugged me.

I’d wanted a family and it’d all blown up in my face when my ex-wife’s lies had come to light. Now, the idea of settling down and having kids with Cora was all I could think about.

The woman challenged me at every turn, was on a constant mission to try and drive me up the fucking wall, and continued to make me feel things I’d never expected to feel again. And Beckett… I don’t know how it happened but somehow he’d wormed his way into my heart too.

As I pulled into the clubhouse lot, I spotted Rage leaning against the outside wall, smoking. His head came up at the sound of my bike, and he straightened as I cut the engine.

“How are they?” I asked, pulling off my helmet.

“Doc’s with them now,” Rage said, taking a final drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. “The kid’s okay. He’s got a couple bruised ribs, a split lip, and a mild concussion. He’s resting in one of the dorms.”

“And Cora?”

Rage’s expression darkened. “Dog bite was deep. Doc cleaned it out, gave her antibiotics and a tetanus shot, but says she’ll need to watch for infection. Thirty-two stitches across her calf. The head wound wasn’t as bad as it looked—scalp wounds bleed like a bitch. Six stitches there. Bruised cheekbone, black eye, lots of cuts and scrapes.” He paused, seeming to choose his next words carefully. “She’s been through the fucking ringer, but Doc says she’ll be all right with some time and rest.”

Relief crashed through me like a wave, so intense I had to brace a hand against my bike to stay upright. She was going to be okay.

I found Doc in the apartment we kept for medical emergencies, his weathered face grave as he bent over Cora’s still form on the bed. She’d been cleaned up, the blood washed away, her injured leg properly bandaged. The sight of her pale face, marred by bruising and swelling, sent a fresh wave of murderous intent through me.

“How is she?” I asked, needing to hear the words from his mouth.

Doc straightened, wiping his hands on a towel. “She’ll live. Dog bite’s nasty but clean. I flushed it and started her on antibiotics. Facial contusions, mild concussion, various scrapes and cuts.” He shook his head, disgust evident in his expression. “Bastard worked her over good.”

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. “And Beckett?”

“The kid’s okay. Bruised ribs, split lip, some minor cuts. He’s in the next room.” Doc pointed behind me. He finally fell asleep after I convinced him she was going to be fine.” Doc gestured toward Cora. “She woke up briefly while I was cleaning her wound. She asked for you.”

Something in my chest constricted.

“Thanks, Doc,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I owe you one.”

He shook his head. “Just doing my job, son.” He grabbed his bag from beside the bed. “She needs rest. I’ve given her something for the pain, so she’ll probably sleep through the night.”

I nodded, already moving to take his place as he headed for the door.

“Chief,” he said, pausing in the doorway.

I watched him carefully as he thought about his next words.

“I took an oath to do harm, so I don’t want to know what you’re planning to do to the piece of shit who did this.” His eyes were hard as stone. “You make sure they suffer.”

With that, he turned around and walked out the door, pulling it softly closed behind him.

I pulled a chair up beside the bed, settling in for the night. Gently, I took her hand in mine, mindful of the IV. Her skin was cool to the touch, and I found myself rubbing my thumb across her knuckles, trying to warm her.

Brave girl. My brave, stubborn, incredible girl.

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” I whispered, bringing her hand to my lips. “I should have protected you better. Should have never let this happen.”

The rage I’d been riding since finding her bloody and battered at the gas station hadn’t diminished, but it had been joined by something else. Something that felt dangerously close to love.

No, not close. It was love.

I loved this woman who’d walked back into my life and turned it upside down. I loved the kid sleeping in the next room, with his too-long limbs and earnest eyes. Somehow, without me noticing, they’d become my family.

And I had almost lost them both today.

Cora stirred slightly in her sleep, a small furrow appearing between her brows. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to her forehead.

“I’ve got you now, baby,” I whispered against her skin. “No one’s ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”

As I sat back in my chair with her hand held in mine, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

Killer: The asset is secure

Some of the tension in my shoulders loosened.

Spike was locked down in the Box.

His time was almost up.