Page 8 of Raze (Wolf Rider MC Daddies #4)

Raze

The clubhouse is a storm of noise—jukebox blaring, bikers laughing, bottles clinking—but it all fades when Dylan, Keegan, and Caleb burst into the backroom where I’m pacing, my head still spinning from the fight at the bar and the ensuing fallout.

Nico’s stitched up, safe for now, but the Broker’s escape is a lead weight in my gut, and Clay’s glare from the bar says I’ve got hell to pay. I’m the Wolf Riders’ enforcer, the guy who gets shit done, and letting the big fish slip is a mark against my name I can’t afford.

But suddenly, all that worry pales into a distant insignificance…

“Raze!” Dylan’s voice cuts through, sharp with panic. “Nico’s gone . He slipped out—he took Tank’s bike!”

I freeze, my blood running cold.

“He did what ?” My voice is low, dangerous, but my heart’s pounding.

That damn kid. I should’ve known he’d pull something reckless.

Those blue eyes, that defiant streak—he’s been trouble from the second I laid eyes on him in that warehouse.

But stealing Tank’s Harley? That’s a death wish, even for a hustler like Nico.

Tank’s already storming in, his face red, fists clenched like he’s ready to break something.

“Motherfucker took my ride!” Tank roars, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I’m gonna snap that kid’s neck!”

“Calm the fuck down,” I roar, but my own anger’s rising, mixed with something sharper—fear. Nico’s out there, wounded, alone, with his .38 and a head full of bad ideas.

I should’ve taken that gun, should’ve tied him down, should’ve known he’d bolt after that kiss outside the bar. That kiss—hard, electric, real—fucked with my head, and now it’s fucking with everything else.

“But… guess who got a tracker,” Tank says, pulling out his phone, his fingers shaking with rage. “I got a GPS on my bike. Bastard ain’t getting far.”

I gather around Tank as he opens the app, and a red dot blinks on the screen, moving fast along the highway, then slowing as it hits a street on the edge of town, one that leads into a dense sprawl of suburbia.

My gut twists.

I know that area—quiet, cookie-cutter houses, the kind of place where guys like the Broker hide out, thinking they’re untouchable. If the boy is right, he could be close to the Broker’s ultimate safehouse, the place where he keeps all his ill-gotten riches.

“He’s going after the Broker,” I say, the realization hitting like a punch. “Nico’s not running away—he’s running toward trouble, trying to fix the mess I made. The kid’s got balls, I’ll give him that, but he’s gonna get himself killed. Let’s move.”

Tank doesn’t argue, grabbing his jacket and a spare Glock from the bar. Clay tosses Tank his keys and warns him about returning his cherished bike in one piece. And knowing Clay, he ain’t kidding—but that’s Tank’s problem.

I’m already halfway to my Harley, the keys heavy in my hand.

The night air’s sharp, rain starting to fall, slicking the gravel lot as I swing onto my bike. Tank’s behind me, his ride roaring to life.

My reputation’s hanging by a thread, and Nico’s out there risking his neck to save it.

Damn that boy all to hell and back.

We tear down the highway, the tracker’s red dot guiding us. Rain stings my face, but I push the bike harder, the engine screaming.

Tank’s a shadow at my side, his fury a match for mine, but I’m not just pissed—I’m worried. Nico’s hurt, his arm stitched but still bleeding under that bandage.

The boy’s got no backup, no plan, just that .

38 and a reckless streak wider than this road.

That kiss keeps flashing in my mind—his lips, the way he leaned into it, the heat in his eyes.

And that’s without even thinking about the way he swallowed and sucked on my cock, giving his mouth to me so obediently and submissively, showing me his true desires.

It’s real, this thing between us, but it’s making me sloppy.

I can’t lose Nico, not like this.

The tracker leads us off the highway, into a quiet suburb where the houses are dark, lawns too neat for the kind of shit going down here.

The red dot stops at a corner, and I spot Tank’s Harley parked under a streetlight, its chrome glinting in the rain.

Nico’s nowhere in sight, but a small house across the street has a light on, curtains drawn tight. My gut says that’s the Broker’s safehouse, and Nico’s already inside or close to it.

I cut the engine, signaling Tank to do the same.

We dismount, moving low, my .45 drawn, Tank’s Glock at the ready.

The rain’s steady now, soaking my shirt, but it keeps us hidden as we cross the street. I spot Nico crouched behind a hedge, his lean frame tense, his .38 in hand.

“ Pssst ,” I whisper.

The boy’s eyes widen when he turns and sees me, a mix of guilt and defiance, but there’s no time for bullshit. I rush over and grab his arm—his good one—and pull him close, my voice a low growl.

“What the fuck are you doing, boy?” I hiss, my grip tight but careful. “Stealing Tank’s bike? Going after the Broker alone? You trying to get yourself killed?”

Nico’s jaw sets, those blue eyes flashing.

“I’m fixing this, Raze,” the boy says. “You let the Broker go because of me. I heard Clay—he’s pissed, and you’re taking the heat. I’m not letting you lose your place because I fucked up.”

Nico’s voice cracks, and I see it—the guilt, the fear, the need to prove himself. It hits me hard, right in the chest. This kid, this hustler who’s been running his whole life, is risking everything for me.

Tank snorts, holstering his Glock, his anger softening just a fraction.

“Kid’s got guts, I’ll give him that,” Tank says, his strong arms looking imposing as ever. “But he’s getting a public spanking for jacking my ride. Right, Raze?”

Tank grins, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s only half-joking.

I laugh, short and rough, the tension easing for a second.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, my eyes still on Nico. His face flushes, and I know he’s remembering the last spanking, the way he called me Daddy in that interrogation room. My cock twitches at the thought, but I shove it down.

Public spankings are one thing, but there’s business to handle first.

“Broker’s in there,” Nico whispers, nodding at the house. “I saw him through the window. He’s alone, I think. Got a gun, though.”

Nico’s voice is steady now, his fear buried under that reckless determination. I want to shake him, tell him he’s an idiot, but I also want to pull him close, keep him safe. This kid’s got me all kinds of fucked up, there’s no denying it.

“Alright,” I say, my voice low, all business. “We go in hard, fast. Tank, you take the back. Nico, you’re with me. You stay behind me, you hear? No hero shit.”

The boy nods, but I don’t trust that look in his eyes. He’s still got that .38, and I know he’s itching to use it. And a trigger-happy boy isn’t exactly part of my usual role call for a situation like this. Far from it, in fact.

Tank slips around the house, silent despite his size—which certainly isn’t always the case—while I lead Nico to the front door. The rain’s louder now, masking our steps.

I test the knob—locked, but flimsy.

One hard kick, and the door splinters open, wood cracking like a gunshot.

I’m inside in a heartbeat, my .45 raised, Nico at my back.

The living room’s dim, a single lamp casting shadows over tacky furniture and a coffee table littered with empty gin bottles. The Broker’s there, standing in the middle of the room, his cheap suit wrinkled, a revolver in his hand. His eyes narrow, but he’s not fast enough.

I fire first, two shots, clean and precise.

The Broker drops, blood blooming across his chest, his gun clattering to the floor. The asshole is dead before he hits the ground, his eyes wide, like he didn’t expect it to end like this.

I step over him, checking the room, but it’s clear.

Tank bursts in from the back, his Glock ready, but he lowers it when he sees the Broker down.

“Nice shot,” Tank says, grinning. “Fucker didn’t stand a chance.”

Nico’s frozen, his .38 still in his hand, his face pale but steady.

I grab the boy’s shoulder, turning him to face me.

“You good, Nico?” I ask, my voice softer now.

The boy nods, but his eyes flick to the Broker’s body, and I know it’s hitting him—the weight of death, even if the bastard deserved it.

Tank’s already rummaging through the room, kicking over a chair to reveal a duffel bag stuffed with cash—tens of thousands, probably ripped off from another crew.

“Jackpot,” Tank says, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “This’ll smooth things over with Clay. And I’m pretty sure there’s a safe in the bedroom that we can cut out of the floor and take back with us”

I nod, but my focus is on Nico.

The boy’s shaking, just a little, and I pull him close, my hand on the back of his neck.

“You did good, kid,” I say, my voice low. “But don’t ever pull this shit again. Not if you want to stick around.”

Nico looks up at me, those blue eyes bright with relief and something else—something that makes my chest tight. The rain’s still falling outside, but the job’s done. The Broker’s dead, the money’s ours, and my reputation’s intact.

Clay will have to eat his words when we return with cash, a safe filled with God knows what, and potentially a decent jewelry haul too. The safe might be small enough to fix onto the rear of a bike, but damn it’s big enough to carry some serious shit.

After some speedy work ransacking the goods and jacking the floor safe out of its hole, we head out, Tank leading the way with the stash, Nico and me behind.

I glance at Tank’s Harley, parked under the streetlight, and shake my head.

“You’re lucky Tank didn’t kill you himself,” I mutter to Nico, who gives me a sheepish grin.

“Worth a shot,” Nico says, his voice lighter now, but there’s still that edge of guilt. I climb onto my bike, gesturing for him to get on Clay’s motorcycle. “Be careful .”

Tank takes his own ride, the duffel secured, and we tear out of the suburb, the rain slicking the road.

As we ride, my mind’s already planning.

Nico’s getting that public spanking Tank joked about—right in the clubhouse, where the brothers can see. He needs to learn, needs to know stealing a Wolf Rider’s bike comes with consequences.

But that’s not all.

There’s something else waiting for him, something private, just between us.

That kiss, the way he called me Daddy when he sucked my cock, the way he risked everything tonight—it’s got me hooked.

I’m gonna show him what it means to be mine, to belong to a Wolf Rider.

Not just tonight, but forever…