Page 38 of Shadow’s Protection (Hurricane Heat MC #1)
“Cameras are for show.” Our point man for this deal, a guy I know only by the name Elliott, discreetly angles his chin toward the security equipment mounted above us. “System’s not connected.”
I shake the man’s hand and search his eyes. “Right. We checked that out before we agreed to meet here.”
He doesn’t need to know how much intel we’ve done on this operation.
He just needs to know that we have. This ain’t our first rodeo, but it is our first moving this amount of product for this particular client.
We don’t normally meet, but for a job this big, I demanded an in-person location on a busy Saturday when the recycling center would be open with lots of foot traffic.
I’m supervising this gig. Viper, our enforcer, and Hawk, our road captain, are handling it with me while Savage is parked in a strategic position in case anything goes down.
None of us are wearing our club leathers or anything that could make us easy to identify later.
Viper and Hawk look like they’re dressed up for Halloween in soccer dad outfits.
They won’t exactly blend, but with their golf shirts, sunglasses, and baseball caps, they’d be tough to pick out of a lineup. That’s all that matters.
Despite the summer heat, I’m in a long-sleeved button-down shirt that covers my tattoos, black jeans, and dark glasses that I only remove when I look Elliott in the eye. Elliott and I nod at each other, the CEOs of our respective organizations, so to speak. Then our guys get to work.
Savage and I walk back to our bikes and climb on, but we don’t leave. We watch, taking everything in.
This job means a shitload of cash for the club. And when a job pays that good, there’s always a reason. My guys are on high alert for any sign of cops, feds, or even the competition. We’re not the only ones in town who want to be on the receiving end of a paycheck that’s going to be this big.
Even still, not one of us wants anything to go down that could land us in lockup. Or, in my case, back in.
It was one thing going away when my daughters were little.
They didn’t understand why Mommy and Daddy didn’t live together or why sometimes Daddy had to go away for months—even years—at a time.
It was normal for them, and they just lived it, spending Father’s Day visiting me across a table with more supervision and cameras than a reality TV set.
But they’re teenagers now. They know what it means if Daddy gets arrested. Convicted. Sentenced.
I don’t give a fuck what happens to me. Sometimes in this life, the juice is worth the risk of the squeeze.
But the older my girls get, the more I realize that nothing is more important than being here for them. And I don’t just mean alive—I mean not behind bars and being free.
I’ve got a bigger plan in mind, and while this deal is probably the worst possible way to go about it, the money we make is money I need if I want to get my girls for good this time.
Taking care of Shayla, though, has proven a longer and harder job than taking her out would have been. But I’m not that man. I don’t hurt women or children—not unless they come for me and mine and ignore a clear first warning.
I give nobody second chances.
One of the reasons I’m here today at all is so I can take care of Shayla and my girls the legal way. The right way. And there’s no chance I’m letting that plan go to shit. No matter what.
A sudden buzzing breaks through my focus on the handoff taking place in front of me. When I’m on a job, no one gets through to me on my cell phone.
Nobody except my daughters.
I don’t bother to check the first buzz of a text alert. I’ve got a special tone set up so I always know, day or night, if Holly or Daisy is trying to reach me.
But the first buzz is followed by a second. And then the damned phone starts ringing.
I swipe the lock screen and almost dismiss the messages until I catch a look at the text. I glare down into my phone, trying to make sense of what I’m reading.
“You got business?” Savage lifts his chin at me. “Take it. I think we’re cool here.”
I nod at Savage, my eyes never leaving the quiet transaction happening ahead. When they look about done, I scan the text from the unknown number.
Holly: Dad, I’m borrowing a phone because I don’t want Mom to know I messaged you. Daisy and I are in trouble. You’ve gotta come now.
Like a volcano bubbling before it bursts, my guts are churning before the blood turns to ice in my veins. Whatever the fuck is happening, I need to get to my daughters, and I need to get to them now .
I listen to the voice mail, which is incredibly hard to hear because Holly is whispering from some place that’s noisy as fuck. She leaves an address and says to get there as soon as we can, or to call this number when I see the message.
“You got this?” I shoot Savage a look.
He nods slowly toward Hawk and Viper, who are discreetly putting bags of aluminum cans inside the covered bed of a pickup truck instead of dropping them here.
A couple of those bags will have cans filled with a product my guys have been hired to move.
The rest are just normal, nothing to see here, empty cans gathered up for recycling.
The only difference is we’re taking them out of the recycling facility when we leave.
“Looks like they’re about done.” Savage nods.
I make eye contact with Elliott, who’s playing point on this deal, so I make my presence and authority known. I may be leaving, but I’m far from uninvolved.
Then I fire up my bike. “Any problems, you handle it any way you want.” I glare at Savage, and he grins.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I know he’ll handle this shit. He’s been by my side, at my back, or even in front of me, taking heat since he patched in to this club.
Savage is ex-military and has the most time in legit life out of everyone in the entire club. He is the one I trust to run into trouble first and not to look for a way to save his own ass. He’s got more than just the drive and the loyalty. He’s got training, guts, and passion.
“I’m out,” I say before peeling out. If my kids are in trouble, no amount of money or danger will keep me from getting to them.
I head for the address my daughter sent, trying my best to keep myself from blowing every light and running every stop sign. Holly gave me no clue what kind of trouble they are in, but this isn’t the first time my kids have used someone else’s phone to reach me.
To say the situation with my ex-wife is complicated would be putting it mildly.
The power could be cut at the house. She might have left the kids alone with no dinner while she’s off with her latest fuckboy.
Or there could be something more twisted that my brain couldn’t even dream up.
Shayla wasn’t always the person she is now.
Fuck, maybe she always was and I just didn’t see it… didn’t want to.
All I know is, the sooner I get my girls away from her, the better.
I race into the small parking lot at the address Holly sent me and drive toward the only building with lights still on.
It’s not even dinnertime, but it’s Saturday, so most of the businesses are dark.
I head for the glass door and yank with such force I’m surprised I don’t pull the thing off its hinges.
I storm into the place and immediately see my girls. My vision goes red, and I blindly run toward them.
“Come here.” I open my arms, and they both jump up and run toward me. They tackle me in a bear hug, and I close them in tight, relieved as fuck that no matter what trouble they are in, they are alive. They don’t look hurt. They’re okay.
As soon as the hug ends, the adrenaline kicks in. The girls both start talking over each other, but I’m scanning the premises for threats.
“Dad, we’re so sorry?—”
“Dad, Mom wanted us to?—”
I hold up my hand and take in the scene.
The first thing I see is a woman. A stunningly beautiful woman whose intense stare makes every inch of me take notice.
She’s got long, dark-brown hair curled and styled to perfection.
But she doesn’t look stiff or made-up. Her full lips are glossy, and she wears sparkly makeup around her big brown eyes.
I look around, but I don’t see Shayla and, even more bizarre, the place looks calm.
Holly and Daisy go back to sitting on a plush tan love seat covered in cream pillows.
The woman is sitting in an armchair that looks fancier than anything I’ve ever owned.
Her legs are crossed, and she’s sipping tea.
I can tell from all the sinks and shampoo bowls that I’m in some kind of beauty shop, but there are so many plants and seats, this place looks more like a café or somebody’s home. It’s nice and all, but my blood pressure won’t chill the fuck out until I know why I’m here.
“You said you were in trouble,” I say, turning toward my girls. “What happened? Where is your mother?”
Holly and Daisy trade anxious looks. My elder daughter is a lot more forgiving of her mom, and she just looks down at her hands. Daisy stands up and rushes back into my arms, her eyes filling with tears.
“Dad.” Her words come spilling out so fast, her mouth pressed against my chest, that I almost can’t understand her.
“Mom brought us to this new salon for back-to-school styles and said we could get whatever we wanted. So, I got color, which is extra, because I’ve been doing the color myself at home?—”
“Hold up.” I reach for Daisy’s shoulders and lean her back to study her face. There’s no fucking way my kids would send an SOS because of a goddamn haircut. “You said you were in trouble.”
“I think I can explain.” The woman who’s been noshing on lunch with my kids stands up and extends her hand. “I’m Poppy. This is my salon.”