Page 8 of Goose’s Wren (Wolfsbane Ridge MC #10)

Goose

My fists are already clenched so tight I can feel my nails biting into my palms. One wrong move, just one, and I’ll end that smug bastard where he stands. I don’t care how many guns he’s got behind him. I’ll die standing if it means keeping Wren safe from what he came here to do.

But then I glance at Timber.

Our Prez doesn’t move right away. He’s standing like stone, arms folded, eyes locked on the guy like he’s running every possible outcome through his head.

He’s trying to keep things from blowing up.

We were not expecting this turn of events.

But the fire’s right there in his eyes, just under the surface.

Finally, he speaks. His voice calm, cold and deadly.

“We found your shit,” Timber says, voice like steel.

“Stashed in the trailer. If you’re here for the drugs, you’re welcome to take ‘em. But the girl?” He tips his chin toward Wren, standing behind me, trying to stay upright.

“She ain’t going anywhere with you. She’s an old lady in the Wolfsbane MC. Protected.”

The man’s eyes cut to Wren again, and I feel her flinch behind me. He doesn’t leer, doesn’t smile. He just measures her, like she’s some goddamn piece of property.

I nearly lose it. Timber shoots me a warning glance without even turning his head.

The bastard looks back at him, gives a slight nod like he’s just been informed the price of steak at a fancy restaurant and decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.

Prez motions to Blood and Torque.

The guys disappear into the trailer and return a minute later carrying two duffel bags stuffed full of what I know is meth and whatever the hell else Tim was dealing in. They walk right up and drop the bags at the man’s polished leather shoes like garbage left on the curb.

His goons immediately step forward, unzip them and check the contents. One gives a small nod, and the well-dressed man turns back toward his car.

But Timber isn’t finished.

“This is the only warning I’m gonna give you,” he says, voice raised now, loud enough to carry across the trees. “Stay the fuck out of White Summer. This is our town. You send drugs through here again, we won’t be polite next time. We’ll burn your whole operation to the goddamn ground.”

The man pauses. His lip curls just a little. Like he wants to laugh but knows better. He doesn’t say a word. Just slides into the back seat of his car.

The doors slam shut, and the convoy pulls away in silence. Black tires spitting gravel as they disappear down the road just as our own SUVs come into view.

For a long moment, no one says anything.

Just the sound of Wren breathing behind me. I turn to look at her. Her face is pale. She’s shaking again, though she’s trying to hide it. She meets my eyes, and there’s still fear there, but something else too. Strength.

Prez walks up behind me and claps a hand on my shoulder.

“Get her out of here,” he says quietly. “Take her home, Goose. We got the rest.”