Page 28 of Heat (The Royal HArlots MC, Quebec City-Canada #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

As they walked back to the truck, Diamond’s eyes scanned the lot with the sharp, practiced edge of someone who knew how to read a threat before it took shape. Her boots crunched against gravel, every step deliberate, her posture loose—but her gaze said otherwise.

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. That sixth sense, the one that had saved her more than once, whispered low and sharp in her gut.

Sayer noticed the change in her before she said a word. Her pace quickened. Her shoulders squared just slightly. He turned his head, sweeping the lot with a casual glance—his eyes were sharp now, cataloging every car, every shadow, every figure that didn’t belong.

He didn’t see anyone moving toward them, but that didn’t mean much.

Without a word, he shifted gears.

“Let’s hustle, girls,” he said gently to Carla and the little ones. “Time to hit the road.”

He took the bag with the brownie cake from the older girl’s hands and walked ahead. He gave them cover as they crossed the two-lane road back to the truck. Carla followed, one child on each side, walking fast without making it look like they were running.

Diamond was already climbing into the driver’s seat, moving fast yet smoothly, like her nerves were coiled just beneath the surface. Sayer got the girls settled in the sleeper with Carla before slipping into the cab beside her.

She was already firing up the engine, fingers flying across switches and levers, letting muscle memory take over.

Sayer fastened his seatbelt as the rig rumbled to life.

“Let’s get going,” her voice low, clipped.

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to.

“I think we lingered too long,” Diamond muttered under her breath, eyes flicking to the side mirror.

Sayer reached over and placed a steady hand over hers on the gearshift, grounding her. “Nah,” he said quietly, his voice calm. “We’re good.”

She didn’t answer, not really. Just eased the rig into gear and pulled onto the road, eyes sharp on the horizon. But she didn’t pull her hand away either.

The drive back to the lot was quiet. Too quiet. Diamond kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely in her lap, but her fingers tapped restlessly against her thigh. Her eyes checked the mirrors repeatedly—nothing behind them but open road. Still, her gut was tight. Coiled.

The girls were asleep in the back, little faces relaxed for the first time in days. Carla sat close, watching the road with that tired, protective stillness only a mother could carry.

Sayer didn’t speak much. He knew better. He felt it too. The low hum of something coming.

When they reached the lot, the gate loomed in front of them like a checkpoint in a war zone. Familiar. Guarded. Supposed to be safe.

Diamond rolled down the window and punched in the code. The gate buzzed, then began its slow grind opening process.

They pulled through. And behind them, just beyond the mirrors, just out of sight—a figure slipped in on foot. Fast. Silent. A shadow in broad daylight.

Diamond eased the cab back toward the trailer, she barely felt the bump of the connection touch when the sound of the side door opened. Then a scream shattered the stillness. Throwing the truck in park, she didn’t hesitate.

She was out the door before her brain could fully catch up, instincts kicking in as her boots hit pavement and she rounded the cab.

A man was at the passenger side door already coming out of the sleeper. One of the girls in his arms, flailing and crying out, her small fists pounding against his chest.

Carla screamed again, scrambling after her daughter.

“HEY!” Sayer was already moving, flying out of the truck and launching himself at the man from behind.

Diamond sprinted the last few feet, heart in her throat, reaching the passenger side just as the man was starting to turn with the girl in his grip.

She didn’t yell. She didn’t threaten. She grabbed.

Her hands locked around the child’s waist, wrenching her back with one clean, practiced pull. The girl sobbed into Diamond’s chest as she wrapped her arms around her, clinging like a lifeline.

Behind her, Sayer and the man crashed to the ground. They grappled hard—grunts and the scrape of boots against concrete, fists flying in a blur. Sayer was strong, fast, and angry.

But the guy was slippery. He twisted, elbowed Sayer hard in the ribs, and managed to roll free. Sayer lunged, just barely missing the back of his jacket as the man took off at a dead sprint toward the gate.

Diamond turned in time to see the figure slip through the narrowing opening.

The gate shut.

Too late.

He was gone.

Sayer cursed under his breath; palms braced on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes burned with frustration—and something else. Recognition? No. Not quite. But there’d been something familiar in the way the guy moved. Trained. Controlled.

Diamond’s arms tightened around the girl, heart still hammering in her chest. Carla rushed to her side, scooping both daughters into a trembling hug.

“We’re okay,” Diamond said, more to herself than anyone. “We’re okay.”

But her eyes never left that gate. Because someone had known where to find them. And someone had just sent a message.