Page 6 of Just Heartbeats (Royalla Motorcycle Club #1)

With his men ready to ride out, Kodiak straddled the seat of his Harley. Before he led them toward the gate, he put in his earpiece to have contact with the others.

Rocco pushed the wheeled gate open. Kodiak rode out onto the road and opened the throttle.

The wind hit his face like a flash of cold water, awakening all his senses.

The rumble of horsepower- and the support of his men set the mood.

Things made sense out here on the asphalt.

The rules were simple. The mission was straightforward.

They rode hard and fast, twenty patched brothers in formation, cutting through traffic without losing track of each other.

Kodiak took point, scanning the street with an experienced skill.

The radio in his ear crackled with occasional updates from Duke and Vein, who were staked out at their destination, making sure they didn't ride into danger.

"Everything's clear," Duke's tense voice came through. "No movement yet."

"Let's keep it that way." Kodiak glanced in his side mirror and sped up.

Everyone knew the drill—tight structure, no chatter unless it mattered. They were hunting now. Every man in his crew could feel it. This wasn't a show of force. This was vengeance.

No one took the life of a Royalla member without justice being served.

They hit the edge of town. He said, "Water tower."

His men obeyed without question. They'd follow him wherever he led them.

"Take it slow," barked Kodiak into the mic.

The riders slowed in formation as he led them up the winding road. This was where the Deception Motorcycle Club scout had ridden off to after Cruz spotted him. They had enough men that there was no way he could have gotten away. He had to be hiding.

He eased off the throttle and signaled for them to fan out as they reached the clearing. The world quieted except for the ticking of cooling engines. The air felt wrong. Tense. Thick. Like the forest held its breath.

Kodiak dismounted, took off his helmet, and drew his sidearm, motioning for the others to do the same. His gut told him they weren't far from where Duke witnessed the guy running.

He moved up the incline, scanning every shadow, expecting a flash of movement any moment between the evergreens around the tower.

Then he saw it—a shimmer of motion behind a tree line to the north.

"Eleven o'clock," he hissed, hoping Vein relayed the message to the others.

Three of his men flanked wide, weapons raised. But when they closed in, the space behind the trees was empty.

Kodiak crouched, squinting at the dirt. Fresh tracks. Boot prints.

"Not a ghost," he muttered. "Someone was here."

Cruz joined him. "Could've pulled back. Trying to bait us?"

"Maybe." Kodiak straightened, looking around. "But he didn't run far. He wants us to follow."

Every muscle tightened. His pulse thrummed deep in his ears. The adrenaline had been steady since he left the clubhouse, but now it surged.

If it were him—if the man who killed Chopper was ahead, hiding behind some tree with a loaded gun and a death wish—he'd end this. Right here. Right now.

Kodiak turned to his crew. "Sweep north. Quarter-mile radius. Stay sharp, stay quiet. No one moves alone."

Every man there knew who they were looking for. The motherfucker who'd shot Chopper in the back of the head like a coward, then vanished like smoke.

Kodiak jogged to his motorcycle, ignoring his helmet, and moved faster. His mind was already two steps ahead of his body.

It wasn't only justice he wanted served. He wanted to give Roma her life back. He couldn't bring Chopper back, but he could make it possible for her to live a life she deserved.

And if he had to spill blood to do it, he'd do it.

"Found him," said a voice over the earpiece.

Kodiak's hands tightened on the handlebars. "Where?"

In the rush of adrenaline, he couldn't recognize the messenger. He scanned ahead of him, looking for any sign of where the fucker was located.

"It's Vein. I'm east of you on the back road behind the tower. The D-member is on foot," said Vein over the intercom system rigged in everyone's helmets.

"Don't fucking lose him." He turned, cutting across the grassy area and riding back onto the road in the opposite direction as he made his way to his MC brother. "Hunter. Cruz. Follow me." He motioned with his hand, making sure Hunter understood. "The rest of you sweep around and surround Vein."

The others spread out behind him—Cash, Rusty, Cannon, Flash, and Ring were already out of sight. He shifted down, accelerating around the corner. Every breath was a countdown. After two years, he was close. The closest he'd been to finding Chopper's killer.

Then, he saw Vein, on the ground, subduing the Deception Motorcycle Club member.

He pressed his right foot down on the rear brake pedal, and at the same time, he clamped down on the right-hand front brake, locking the tires on the Harley and skidding to a stop.

Cruz made it to them first, tackling the suspect to relieve Vein.

Kodiak removed his pistol and motioned for his V.P. to get up. "Roll him over."

The man rolled, putting his hands out to his sides.

The fucker hid behind a hoodie, but the bike he'd left behind marked him as a Deception MC member. He moved to the right, out of the shadow of the tree. The moon lit up the man's smirking face.

"Take it off." He motioned with his pistol. "If you do anything but remove the hoodie, you're dead."

The sneer fell from his face. Kodiak had no patience when the man hesitated and shot the ground beside the Deception member.

His enemy reached behind his neck, grabbed the hoodie, and pulled it over his head. Kodiak gazed at the bare arms. Only one had a tattoo. He zeroed in on the snake curling around the man's forearm.

Kodiak growled. "That's him."

The fucker scrambled, trying to run.

Kodiak moved—fast, deliberate, unstoppable. The rage he'd bottled since Chopper's murder unleashed inside him. He tackled him into the grass with a crack that sounded like bone. The others held back. This was Kodiak's right to seek punishment. His sentence to deliver. His promise to keep.

The man fought with desperation, knowing his fate was sealed. Kodiak's fists wielded the punishment. Each blow was a sentence.

You took my brother.

You took Roma's dad.

You killed a Royalla member.

You put Roma through hell.

Blood painted the ground. The man ceased moving long before Kodiak stopped swinging. When the adrenaline waned and his energy dipped, Kodiak fell to his knees and let his ass hit his boots.

It was done.

Two long fucking years, and he could finally tell Roma the man responsible for killing her dad was dead.

For a while, he believed he'd disappoint her when every clue came to a dead end. She understood the ways of Royalla. She expected him to avenge her father's death.

Now he could return and tell her it was over.

What happened tonight wouldn't take away her pain. It wouldn't heal her heartbreak. But in the years to come, she would know that his word was good. He'd loved Chopper like a brother.

"We need to get out of here, Prez." Cruz grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. "Rocco, make the call back to the compound and have someone get a truck over here. Baker, Duke, Ring, clean up. The rest of you get out of here."

Ring handed Kodiak his discarded helmet, and he stumbled to his motorcycle and swung his leg over his Harley. Blood dried on his knuckles. His heavy heart finally clear of debt. Revenge for Chopper. It was finally over.

"The fucker's name is Curtis Monroe." Duke pocketed the wallet. "Cheap fucker. Only had ten bucks on him."

The name meant nothing—until it did.

Monroe was a killer and a past problem. A year before Chopper was killed, Roma was involved in an attempted kidnapping. She hadn't seen who grabbed her. Luckily, she screamed and fought, causing a scene. The kidnapper dropped her at the curb before taking off in a van.

All Roma could remember was the name Curt. One of the guys in the van had yelled at the man who'd grabbed her, using a name.

Tonight, he'd resolved two problems.

He rode away from the crime scene, trusting his men to get rid of the body and any evidence. Heaviness settled in his chest.

Roma.

She'd be safe now. He'd made sure of that. She'd have a future and could mourn her dad the way she should've two years ago.

He pictured her laughing, with that slight tilt of her head, her boots up on the table as if she owned the world, even when her hands trembled. Strong, stubborn, full of fire. She no longer needed anyone to save her.

She could grow up. Live a life outside of Royalla. Be safe.

He swallowed hard. But damn, he was going to miss her.

He was about to miss everything — the young Roma who fell asleep in his room, the maturing Roma who practiced flirting with him, and the idea of what might happen between them.

The unspoken glances, the strange conversations, the fucking fantasies that made his life hell one minute and the biggest fucking pleasure he'd ever imagined the next.

Together, he and Roma built a broken family. Just the two of them, surviving in a hard world with some of the roughest men around them.

He hadn't asked to have her in his life, but once she came to him, everything had changed.

And now she was free to leave him.