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Pirate

“We gotta go.”

I looked up from my beer and frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dice held up his phone, but he was across the common room.

“Like I can fucking read that,” I growled.

Yarder was sprawled out on the couch with Poppy snuggled up to him. Aero and Sloane were sharing the recliner, and they looked way too comfortable. The rest of the guys were holed up in their rooms with their ol’ ladies.

And Stretch was still missing.

“Is it Stretch?” Yarder asked, his voice sharp with concern.

Dice shook his head. “Nah, it’s the police scanner app I have on my phone. Cops were just called out to the camera crew’s tiny houses.”

I leaned back, unimpressed. “Is that really our problem?” We were done with that damn camera crew. Whatever trouble they were getting into, they could handle it on their own as far as I was concerned.

“You and Dice go check it out.”

“What?” I demanded and sat up straighter.

“Just go and make sure they are okay.” Yarder flicked his hand at Dice. “Does it say what the call is for?”

“It’s probably a smoke alarm or some shit,” I muttered.

Dice shook his head. “Doesn’t say.”

Yarder looked back at me, unimpressed by my resistance. “Get your ass up and go check it out. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I stood with a huff and pulled my keys out of my pocket. “I know it’s nothing, and you’re just having us waste our time. Hell, Mac can handle whatever it is.” Mac and Saylor, the new producers Don had sent over, seemed more than capable of handling themselves. They also had Mark and Drew hanging around.

“Just go,” Yarder ordered.

I rolled my eyes but stalked toward the door. “Fucking bullshit,” I mumbled under my breath, knowing Dice could hear me as he followed me outside.

The night air was cooler than earlier, and I was not in the mood to be running errands for people who weren’t our concern.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, brother,” Dice called over the rumble of our steps.

“You shouldn’t have said a damn thing,” I shot back and swung my leg over my bike.

Dice shrugged. “I was surprised to see the address.”

“Surprised my ass,” I grumbled and started my bike. I motioned for him to follow, then tore out of the lot.

The roads were quiet, and the night air whipped against my face as we rode. It was a straight shot to the tiny houses, barely ten minutes away, but with every passing streetlamp, a nagging feeling crawled up my spine. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was more bullshit we didn’t need to be involved in. Either way, we were about to find out.

By the time we got close, the red and blue flashing lights were already cutting through the night. My grip tightened on the handlebars as I slowed, and Dice pulled up beside me.

“So much for it being nothing,” Dice called over the rumble of our engines.

I grunted, and my eyes scanned the scene as I pulled to the curb. Four police cars and an ambulance took up the tiny driveway in front of the houses.

I killed the engine and swung my leg over the bike as my boots hit the pavement with a dull thud.

I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but we were about to find out.

Dice and I moved across the cracked pavement. Our boots crunched against loose gravel as we headed toward the pulsing red and blue lights that painted the street in chaos. The tiny houses sat against the strobe of flashing lights like some kind of stage in a fucked-up play. Six cops stood scattered across the yard and sidewalk, radios squawking at their hips, their hands on belts, and shoulders stiff like they were waiting for something worse to happen.

Dice had that look in his eyes—sharp, alert. I kept my face blank, as usual. I didn’t show much, and tonight wasn’t going to be the night I started. We moved past the first cruiser when one of the uniforms peeled away from the rest and stepped straight into our path.

“We’re gonna need you to stop right there, fellas,” he barked.

I didn’t flinch. Instead, I hitched my chin toward the open front door where shadows danced behind the weak porch light. “We’re friends with who lives here. What’s going on?” My voice was calm, but it cut through the air like a blade.

The cop gave me a slow once-over like he was trying to figure out what kind of trouble I brought with me. He didn’t have to look long. I was used to this—judgment, suspicion, all of it. I’d lived with it for so long that it barely registered anymore. Let them look. I didn’t give a fuck.

Mac appeared in the doorway. She stepped outside quickly as her eyes scanned the scene.

“Mac!” Dice called.

Her head snapped in our direction. Relief flashed in her eyes as she rushed toward us.

“You know these guys?” the cop asked, glancing sidelong at her.

Mac nodded. “They’re the reason why we’re here in town.” She stopped in front of us, her face pale and her breathing uneven. “How did you guys know to come?” she asked.

“Scanner app,” Dice said simply.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, my voice lower this time.

Mac looked back toward the house like she wasn’t ready to say it out loud. “I don’t really know. Saylor was supposed to come over so we could go over the footage. She came over, but she was all bloody and could barely talk.”

I reared back a little. “What did she say?”

Mac’s eyes flicked toward the cop, who had folded his arms across his chest and watched us like we were suspects in a lineup.

“She said she thought she killed someone,” the cop answered, his voice flat and unimpressed.

“That is what she said,” Mac agreed quickly, “but she was also attacked by whoever she thinks she might have killed.” She leaned slightly toward the cop. “Self-defense.”

That hit like a punch to the gut. I’d expected something—maybe a bad fall, maybe she’d been mugged. But this? This was something else entirely.

“McCall,” someone called from the side of the house. “We need you over here.”

The cop grunted and pointed a thick finger at Dice and me. “You go farther than right here, and we’ll have a problem.”

We both nodded, but let’s be real—he wasn’t gonna be the one telling us what to do if things went sideways.

As he walked away, I turned back to Mac. “Now tell us what the hell is going on.”

She took a breath and glanced around again. “That’s what happened. But… she told me more.”

I leaned in, hearing the edge in her voice.

“She told me whoever attacked her called her one of the Iron Fiends’ bitches. Said this was for the asshole who keeps sniffing around.” Her eyes darted from me to Dice and back. “Saylor and I aren’t stupid, Pirate. We know you guys have some bad shit happening, even if we don’t know the details. And it looks like that bad shit found Saylor tonight.”

“But she’s not connected to us,” Dice muttered, voice hard.

“You and I know that,” Mac said, “but whoever is after you guys doesn’t.”

“Did they find the guy who attacked her? A body?” I asked.

Mac shook her head. “No body, but you can tell where they fought each other. Saylor said she managed to get her hands on a rock and smashed the guy’s head. She hit him so hard he went down, and she took off.”

Before I could respond, voices rose behind us—shouted commands and hurried steps. I turned just in time to see the paramedics emerge from the house. Three paramedics maneuvered a stretcher down the steps and across the uneven yard.

My breath caught.

Saylor lay strapped to the stretcher. Her black jeans were torn at the knee and one boot was missing. Her shirt was smeared with grime and blood, and the fabric clung to her like it had been through hell. Her face… someone had wiped the blood off, but it was still streaked. Her hands were limp by her sides, and her fingers were stained and scraped.

Something twisted in my gut—hard. I didn’t expect it. It was like anger and protectiveness hit me at the same damn time. Seeing her like that punched through the numb wall I kept up around me. I hadn’t really paid much attention to her before. She was just another person the TV show had sent to make our lives hell. But seeing her like that, broken and bleeding?

The indifference was gone. Gone and buried.

“I’m coming with her,” Mac said, already moving toward the stretcher.

“No,” I cut in sharply. “I’ll go.”

She froze. “I mean… why?”

I handed my bike keys to Dice without looking away from Saylor. “Because we’re the reason why she’s on that stretcher.”

Dice didn’t argue. Mac just blinked at me, surprised. I didn’t explain further. I didn’t need to.

I followed behind the stretcher as the paramedics wheeled her toward the waiting ambulance. The sound of her bootless foot bounced against the side of the gurney and echoed in my ears. “Think you could be a little gentler with her?” I called. “I think she’s already been through enough.”

One of the medics pulled open the back doors, and they lifted her in with practiced and gentle ease. I climbed in after her and settled onto the bench on one side as the third medic jumped in and shut the doors with a loud slam.

I reached for her hand—dirty, scraped, and smeared with dried blood. Her fingers twitched slightly when I touched her. And then her eyes fluttered open.

“Pirate?” she whispered, her voice cracked and faint. Just one word, but it was enough.

“Shh, baby. Just try to relax.” I wrapped my fingers around hers gently. I’d ridden in the back of an ambulance before—I knew this wouldn’t be smooth. Every bump would rattle her. Every second would feel longer than the last.

Her eyes drifted shut again.

The paramedic across from me started checking her vitals, his face focused and unreadable. I glanced at him. “Is she going to be okay?”

He looked at me. He was calm but not exactly reassuring. “We’re doing everything we can for her here. I’ll keep an eye on her vitals on the drive to the hospital. You can talk to the doctor once she’s examined.”

Not good enough. “But she’s going to be okay, right?”

“She’s got injuries we can see—she should be fine from those. But we don’t know what’s going on inside. She obviously has a concussion. We’re doing everything we can for her right now.”

I stared at him for a second with my jaw clenched. “Then let’s fucking go.”

The driver must’ve heard me because a second later, the engine roared, and the ambulance jerked into motion with sirens screaming.

I kept my eyes on her. On the faint rise and fall of her chest. On the blood smeared along her jawline. I didn’t know what she’d been through tonight, but I could see it was hell. And I knew it was because of us.

Because of me.

Another innocent person was dragged into the shadows we tried to keep buried.

I wasn’t going to let it end badly for Saylor.

Not for her.

I didn’t know what was changing in me, but something was. That fire in my chest, the heat that came with looking down at her bruised face—it was more than guilt. It was rage. It was purpose.

She was going to be fine. She had to be. And when she was, when I was sure of it, I was going to end this bullshit once and for all.

One way or another.