Page 8

T he mood in the clubhouse is somber despite the smiles and chatter. Trip and Squire are surrounded by their club, but it’s clear that everyone in the room is still worried about the rest of their leadership. We all are.

But no one more so than me. Three of my guys are still behind bars, and each day that passes makes me wonder what level of hell my brother might unleash on them next.

Shaking off the depressing thought, my eyes take in these big burly men in their Sinner’s Mark cuts, looking like they haven’t shaved in at least half a decade, with grease under their nails and lines next to their eyes. Never in a million years would I have ever thought I’d be in this position. Then I catch Trip’s smile as he talks with Pitch, and I feel that sense of awe that hits me every time I look at one of my men. They did the one thing I didn’t think was possible—they brought me back from the dead, introducing me right back into the life I left behind.

Go figure.

“You hear anything?” Big Mack whispers, stepping up beside me, his eyes scanning the crowd.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Squire’s been tracking down leads but hasn’t had much luck. The IP of the video feed just continuously pings off random towers, so we can’t get a solid location. It pains me to say it, but Colt’s damn good.”

His massive hand lands on my shoulder. “You’re better.”

Looking up into his worried face, I let his faith in me temporarily calm my demons. “I sure as hell hope you’re right. He’s had her close to a week. The feed shows no change, but it could be on a loop for all I know. I keep telling myself Etta’s strong and can handle herself, but that doesn’t apply if she’s fucking unconscious .”

He gives me a pointed look. “Remy, I know you’re doing everything you can to save your sister and the rest of them, but you need to make sure you’re taking care of yourself too. Etta would skin me alive if anything happened to you. Those men of yours would too for that matter.”

“I am, I promise. Trip and Squire are making sure of that now.”

He nods. “Good.”

“How’s Killer doing with us being gone?”

He smiles. “He misses you all, but he’s become Pitch’s shadow. Where one goes, so does the other. It’s almost like he knows shit is coming and since you all aren’t here, he's made it his job to protect his friend.”

“He’s right. Colt’s definitely plotting something, but it’s been too quiet. It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop as the clock keeps ticking down.”

The words no sooner leave my lips than the front door of the clubhouse bursts open. Masked men wearing black tactical gear rush in, guns drawn.

“Everyone get down on the ground, now! Hands above your head and belly to the floor,” a voice orders.

After a brief shocked pause, the men mutter and grumble as, one by one, they do as they’re told.

“Remy!” Squire calls out, his panicked eyes meeting mine across the room. “Please!”

I snap out of it, realizing Big Mack is gently tugging me down to the cement floor, holding my hand in a death grip. Slowly, I comply, eyes tracking the movements around me. Men storm through the building barking orders as others start pulling open drawers and tossing cushions. Anything they can get their hands on gets thrown around the room in their search for who the hell knows what.

“Who’s in charge here?” a deep voice shouts above the chaos.

“I am,” Trip calls out.

“Stand up.” A short but stocky man steps further into the room, eyeing the destruction with barely concealed glee.

Trip slowly gets to his feet, keeping his hands out in front of him where they can clearly be seen. “What’s this about?”

“I’m Special Agent Kinney with the FBI. We received a credible tip that there were drugs on the premises. Please identify yourself.”

“Emery Johnson.” Trip’s eyes narrow. “I’m assuming you have a warrant?”

Kinney smirks, waving a sheet of paper in the air. “I do. As long as you all cooperate, this should be a fairly painless process. Unless, of course, we find something illegal.”

“Well, you’re going to be disappointed. We don’t have shit here but booze and bikes.”

“Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” He stalks through the sea of bodies with a smirk. There’s no doubt in my mind my dear brother has something to do with this so-called tip . “Oh, I almost forgot. Is Remington Steele here, by chance?”

Squire makes a barely noticeable movement with his head, and I know he’s telling me to stay where I am and keep quiet.

He should really know me better than that. I’m no coward.

“Right here,” I say, raising my arm slightly.

Malevolent brown eyes meet mine before Kinney’s smirk turns into a full-blown smile. “C’mere, Ms. Steele.”

“It’s Masterson, actually,” I quip as I gently push myself off the floor and stand. I can feel Trip’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look at him. I need to keep my attention on the cocky agent eyeing me from head to toe.

“Right. You married the leader of this lovely establishment. Is that right?”

“Looks like you got at least partially correct information,” I snipe joyfully, watching his eyes narrow. “Now, what can I do for you, Agent?”

He pulls out a second piece of paper that was folded in his back pocket, taking his time to open it up as the silence in the room grows. “This is a warrant to search your person, as we have it on good authority that you often smuggle drugs inside…well, let’s just say unsavory places, for your husband and his friends. In fact, we’ve been told you may be concealing some at this very moment.”

Anger spikes in my blood as the tension in the room rises, but I remain calm on the outside.

“What exactly do you mean by search my person ?”

“We have the authority to perform a full cavity search. Now, if there’s an office we can go to?—”

“Oh hell no,” Trip barks. “You’re not laying one fucking finger on her.”

“I believe this sheet of paper gives me permission to do just that, Mr. Johnson. We can either do this here, or I can cart Ms. Masterson to the local field office. Your choice.”

“This is bullshit! Remy…”

Trip’s eyes are wild when they lock onto mine. For a second, I just stare into them, praying he understands that I need him to remain calm. I can’t lose him again, and like hell will they get me anywhere near the FBI headquarters that are located outside of Deadwood Peak. They’ll find every excuse to keep me inside those walls, and we can’t afford that complication right now.

Glancing back at the smug agent, I calmly say, “I’d like to request a female officer.”

“Hmm. No can do, unfortunately. We don’t have one on duty today.”

I grit my teeth but otherwise show no signs of distress. “Then what about a medical professional, which I believe is actually protocol.”

“They’re all tied up with a larger case at the field office. Again, I’m more than happy to take you down there if you’d like.”

Swallowing my growl, I consider my options. Admittedly, there are few. Studying the swarm of black-clad men, most aren’t paying us any attention. A few steal glances at their superior, but then I catch sight of one near the bar that keeps glancing between Agent Kinney and me. When he looks my way again, I see uncertainty staring back at me.

Bingo!

“I’d like to request the presence of another agent of my choosing. I refuse to go into that room with you alone.”

Agent Kinney’s smile dissipates as he studies me with fury in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw working overtime.

“Fine. Pick one so we can get this over with.”

I point to the worried-looking agent. “Him.”

“Fine. What room can we use?”

“We can use Mr. Masterson’s office.” I slowly walk toward the hall, sparing a brief look at Squire who is seething on the cold cement.

“Remy—” Trip looks about two seconds away from losing his shit.

“I’m fine, handsome. It’ll be over before you know it, then they’ll get the hell out of here and leave us alone.”

“Jenkins, follow Ms. Masterson. The rest of you, no sudden movements. My team has a shoot-to-kill order for anyone who appears to be taking an aggressive stance against me or my team.”

All of the ways I’m going to make this asshole and my brother pay play out in my mind. I let my demons’ imagination run wild as I open the door to Ace’s office with a surprising level of calm. Stepping inside, I walk over to the desk and turn just as Jenkins crosses the threshold, looking very unsure. Kinney steps in after him, closing the door.

“You and I both know this is bullshit, Agent Kinney.”

“I know nothing of the sort, Ms. Masterson. The tip we received was from a very credible source.”

“Is that so? And you honestly think you’re going to find drugs stuffed inside my vagina?”

“I’ve seen weirder shit, honestly. Now, turn around and place your hands on the desk.”

My nerves spike, but I do as he says, palms hitting the cool wood surface.

“You do realize that when you come up empty handed, I am going to bring a complaint against you to the local field office.”

“As is your right, Ms. Masterson,” he murmurs as he steps up against my back.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Jenkins watching his superior with a look of trepidation in his blue eyes. When they rise to mine, they’re apologetic, so I make a note that this one is to be spared my wrath.

Unfamiliar hands touch my shoulders, running down the tops of my arms, then back again along the bottom. His hands skim along my rib cage, fingertips dangerously close to my breasts, and it takes all of my self-control not to elbow this motherfucker in the face.

Luckily, I don’t have much of a baby bump yet—the secret of our little one is safe from the likes of this asshole—as his touch brushes down my hips, around the waistband of my jeans, then down the outside of my legs. As he makes his way up to my inner thighs, I bite my lip, letting the pain distract me when his fingers graze across my crotch.

“Unbutton your pants and push them down to your knees.” His amused voice reaches my ears, and the first hint of panic stirs in my gut.

“Is this really necessary?”

“My warrant says it is.”

“Can I see this warrant before this goes any further?”

His arm brushes against mine as he holds the paper in front of me. Skimming the document, I quickly realize it’s legit. There’s not much I can do to avoid this if I don’t want to end up detained.

“Fine,” I bite out.

Reaching for the button of my jeans, my fingers only tremble for a second before I push it through the fabric and slide the zipper down. I can sense him behind me, and my fingers hesitate when memories threaten to overtake me.

“Is there a problem, Ms. Masterson?”

I take a deep breath in and exhale, repeating my mantra in my head.

You can do this, Remington. Take a deep breath in and exhale. That’s it. No one can hurt you anymore.

“None at all,” I manage, my voice raspier than I’d prefer.

My jeans skim over my hips as I push them down, thankful I’m wearing a simple pair of black cotton panties today and not something more revealing. Not that this isn’t about to get one hundred percent more awkward in just a few moments anyway.

The snap of rubber gloves draws my attention, and I risk a glance over my shoulder. Agent Kinney is staring at my ass, a smirk curving the corner of his mouth as his tongue licks across his lower lip. My stomach pitches, but I don’t so much as make a sound. When I look at Jenkins, his brows are furrowed and he looks about as uncomfortable as I feel.

“Now the underwear.”

Doing as I’m told, my fingers grip the cotton and push them down, feeling the cool air of the office hitting my naked skin.

“Take a step back and bend over for me.”

My breath catches in my throat, but I silently follow his instructions.

“Spread your cheeks with your hands and cough.”

Despite the smugness in his voice, I do what he requested, all while imagining shoving my favorite knife deep into his vocal cords.

“Good. Now, this next part might be a bit uncomfortable, but lean forward with your palms on the desk again. Try to relax, and I’ll try to make it… quick .”

My entire body goes still, feeling him step closer, the heat of him hitting my cool skin. One gloved hand skims up my inner thigh, slipping between the lips of my sex which is as dry as the Sahara. My legs threaten to tremble, but I shore up every last ounce of willpower I have left to keep them steady. Back and forth, he swipes along my seam, far too many times to be considered strictly professional. Just when I’m about to say fuck it and reach for the knife sheathed at my ankle, one thick fingertip prods my opening, forcing its way past my body’s resistance.

My eyes close, nightmares threatening to rush over me as I take slow, even breaths.

“You’re too tight, Ms. Masterson. Why don’t you cough again for me?”

I can barely breathe, but somehow I manage a cough.

“Looks like this hole is clear.”

But his finger is still inside me. It isn’t until Jenkins clears his throat that his superior seems to even remember he’s there. The slide of him out of my channel nearly has my knees giving out, but I lock my elbows and dig my fingertips into the wood of Ace’s desk. I picture my husband. The scruff of his beard. The way his lips feel when they press against mine. Anything but the strange man behind me.

“One last check, then we’re through here.”

“Sir, this isn’t…”

“You have something to say, Jenkins?”

Seconds pass before the man simply says, “No, sir.”

“Good.” Fingers skim between my ass cheeks, and my lungs seize. “I need you to relax, Ms. Masterson, or this is going to be even worse for you.”

“I…” No words form as my brain balks at the press of his finger against my asshole.

The second his digit pushes through the tight ring of muscle, my brain shuts down, going to a place it hasn’t been in the last decade, a place where no one can hurt me ever again.

The next thing I know, I’m redressed, in Squire’s arms, his hand gently brushing my hair out of my face as I hear Trip’s angry voice amongst others that seem way off in the distance.

“Shhh, Rem. I’m here. It’s me. It’s Grant.”

“Is she okay?”

Jenkins. He sounds genuinely concerned.

“You better sure as hell hope so. You’re lucky you stepped in when you did, or I can guaran-fucking-tee you that things would’ve gotten messy. Hell, they still might if she doesn’t shake out of it soon.”

No. I can’t let that happen. I take a steadying breath, forcing my eyes to open.

“I-I’m okay.”

Squire’s forehead hits mine. “Fuck, Remy. I’m sorry.”

My hand comes up to cradle his face. “Hey, I said I’m okay. It’s not your fault.”

Trip’s voice is vibrating with fury. “You haven’t found shit, you’ve terrorized an innocent woman, and you wrecked our clubhouse. I’m going to ask you and your team one last time to get the hell off my property before I make some calls of my own.”

“Sir, we’ve double checked everything. The place is clear,” an unfamiliar voice murmurs in the background.

“Fine. But this isn’t over. You tell your precious leader that we’ll be watching you. The second you all slip up, we’ll be here to drag your asses in, and next time, none of you will see the light of day for years.”

The sound of boots stomping away fills the room until the only thing that remains is silence and the rapid beating of Squire’s heart.

“How is she?”

I force my eyes to open again. Trip is assessing me, tiny lines creasing the corner of his eyes when he grimaces.

“You’re fucking pale as hell, Remy. Do we need to call Aunt Charlie?”

My bottom lip trembles, but I straighten my shoulders and shake my head. He pulls me from Squire’s arms and holds me so damn tightly I can barely breathe.

“No. She can’t come here.” Pressing my face into his neck, his scent calms me and helps to get my pulse back under control. “I’ll be fine. Just…need a second to box up all the nightmares again.”

“Fuck!” Trip growls. “I could fucking kill them for hurting you like this.”

“Don’t worry, handsome, I came up with some pretty creative ways to do just that.”

“If I ever see Kinney’s face again, I’ll fucking make sure he gets to visit your new playroom. Might even help you put that asshole right where he belongs.”

Trip and Squire are staring down at me when I pull back.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him, and so will my brother. Don’t either of you worry about that.”

“You think this was him?” Squire asks.

I nod. “I know it was. It was an effort to humiliate me and prove that I’m weaker than him. It may have worked a little too well, unfortunately.”

Trip’s hand grips the side of my face. “You are the strongest woman I know, Remy.”

Squire leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Agent Kinney’s name is on our list now, and there’s little doubt his history is as dirty as he is, especially if he’s connected to your brother. It’s only a matter of time until he finds out he messed with the wrong fucking woman. Can’t wait ‘til that fucker meets your stabby alter ego.”

They wrap me up in their arms, and I slowly start to settle. My demons, though? They're still pacing inside their cage, more bloodthirsty than ever. And that’s when it hits me.

“Holy shit!” I push free of their group hug, eyes wide and a wicked grin starting to spread across my lips.

“What is it, Rem?” Grant asks.

“How the hell did I not think of this before?”

The men share a confused look.

“Think of what before?”

I kiss the tip of Trip’s nose as the fog over my mind finally clears completely.

“You’re right. They messed with the wrong fucking woman.”

Trip studies me carefully. “Yeah, I’m still lost.”

“I’m the Avenging Angel.”

They nod like I’m a crayon short of a full box.

“We know that, baby girl. But what?—”

“I’m the Avenging Angel , you guys! There’s one sure fire way to prove that Ace, Saint, and Rogue are innocent.”

Squire blinks, but then a slow smile appears on his face. “Fuck! Of course!”

“Who’s going to fill me in?” Trip asks with a pout.

I kiss his sad little lips. “It’s time the Avenging Angel makes a reappearance, this time to save some innocent lives while removing a bad one, don’t you think?”

For a second, he just stares at me, then he smiles too.

“You’re brilliant. Think we can coax her to come out and play?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Guess I should get the bucket ready.”

And for the first time in almost a week, I laugh.