Page 52 of Desert Loyalties

Ranger bursts out of the back office. “What the hell is going on?”

One of the agents steps forward. I recognize him instantly, it’s Agent Willis, the one who questioned me last week. He holds upa folded document and hands it to Ranger. “We have a federal warrant for your arrest Mr Lloyd,” he says, voice flat, official.

“Mr. Lloyd,” he calls, voice sharp and official. “Step forward, please.”

The room freezes.

Several of the brothers move instinctively, stepping in front of Drake. Lehi is the first, broad shoulders squared like a wall. Knuckles and Caine follow, forming a line between the Feds and our VP.

One of the agents places his hand on the grip of his gun.

Willis holds his palm up. “There’s no need to escalate this.”

Drake is still sitting, his arm steady around my waist. He gives me a look not of fear or regret, just… calm.

He sets me gently off his lap.

Then he rises, placing a hand on Lehi’s shoulder. It’s not a push. It’s a signal.

Lehi hesitates with his fist clenched, but finally steps aside.

Drake reaches for my hand, squeezes once. Warm. Firm. Final.

Then he walks forward on his own.

Willis continues, “Drake Lloyd, you are under arrest for violation of Title 18, United States Code, Section 1111—murder; Section 1512—witness tampering; Section 371—conspiracy to commit a federal offense; and Section 1505—obstruction of justice. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and willbe used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney.

The cuffs click into place.

And just like that, everything shatters.

PART II-

Desert Reckoning

Chapter 21

MANDRAKE

The cuffs are tight. Not enough to cut circulation, but enough that I know it’s on purpose.

One of the agents grips my arm, guiding me out of the clubhouse. No one speaks behind me, but I can feel my brothers watching me get perp walked out of my own fuckin’ clubhouse.

Skye’s holding it together for me, tough girl. I don’t look back, because if I do, I won’t go quietly. And if I don’t go quietly, they’ll drag me out like an animal, and I won’t give them that.

The air outside hits like a wall of heat. The sun is dipping low, desert gold turning red. Somewhere in the distance a cicada buzzes. The compound’s usually loud, full of engines and music and yelling, now it’s dead quiet.

The agents walk me past the clubhouse gate. Two black unmarked SUVs are parked crooked on the gravel, lights stillflashing, tires dusty from the road in. One of them opens the back door like I’m royalty. More like cargo.

They lower my head, guiding me in.

Plastic seat. No handle on the inside of the door. Bulletproof glass separating me from the front. I know this setup. I’ve had brothers in this exact spot. Thought I never would be.

The door slams shut behind me.

Seconds later, we’re moving. Gravel crunches under the tires, then the smoother hum of blacktop once we leave the compound. I watch it shrink in the side mirror. My whole life, getting smaller behind tinted glass.

Agent Willis is in the front passenger seat, flipping calmly through some papers. The driver’s a silent type. Military haircut. Looks like he’s never blinked in his life.