Page 25 of Unmasked Anarchy (Fallen Sons MC #3)

I pull the bag open further, hoping to see instructions, a schematic, something.

There’s nothing, just the bomb. This doesn’t look like some movie device, no blinking fancy preparation, no colored wires waiting to be snipped.

Just a bunch of industrial crap and a clock that is a horrible reminder of what’s coming.

I wipe at my forehead, the sweat instantly replaced.

I can’t escape, not without being seen, so my only hope is getting this thing out of here before the clubs arrive.

I don’t know what the kill radius is, but if they put it here to wipe out both clubs, it’s got to be big.

If I get it far enough into the woods, it might shake us, but it won’t kill us.

I hope.

I eye the barn door. My hands are still shaking, blood sticking on my fingers, but I press them against my pant leg and order myself to focus.

The guy said there were eyes on us, but there’s no one in here now which means they aren’t watching me, because they would have come the second I freed myself.

That gives me a glimmer of hope.

I haul the duffel up. Jesus, this thing is heavy.

I sling it over my shoulder, and the momentum nearly topples me, but I catch myself.

Each pulse in my wrists comes with a blast of fresh agony, but I grip the straps and move.

Just inside the barn door, I pause, strain to hear anything—cars, voices.

There’s nothing but birds and a soft breeze flowing.

I creep up to the door and ease it open.

The clearing outside is blinding. Sun slices through low morning haze, painting everything gold.

I blink fast, scan for movement. To the left, a pickup sits behind a shed, rusted rails catching the light.

No one inside. To the right, the woods are probably fifty meters or so, a clear line with nothing in the way.

No matter where I look, the woods are thick and full. Still, it’s my best option, so I slip out the door, keeping low, and make for the trail. Each step jostles the bomb against my back and lights up every pain receptor in my midsection. But I keep going. I have to.

I just pray all this movement doesn’t set the bomb off. Though from what I understand about these types of bombs, is that they can be moved and transported, as they are made exactly for that. But when that timer goes off...nobody would want to be around.

The woods close in on me the second I step in, and I see just how thick they are.

It’s going to take a hell of an effort to get through them quickly.

Gritting my teeth, I hike the duffel up with one hand, positioning it better, then I use my other hand to start pushing branches and shrubs out of the way.

I can hear my own heartbeat tunneling through my skull.

After a minute or so I stop, glancing over my shoulder and listening. Nothing. If they were watching me, they’d be here by now. My guess, is that they’re waiting hidden at the end of the road at a safe distance, making sure the club arrives, and their bomb goes off.

I keep going.

I stop at a break in the trees. The ground drops off here, a sudden slope choked with fallen down trees.

From here I can see the old dirt road snaking to the east. It’s almost peaceful.

Almost. I set the duffel down and drop beside it, chest heaving.

The clock now reads 48:14. I’ve burned so much time getting here.

I need to move faster.

Taking a burning breath into my lungs, I push up and keep moving.

I pick up the pace, shoving the trees harder, jumping over fallen logs and letting the bushes scratch my arms as I barrel through them.

I don’t know how far I need to go, but I’m going to walk until it reaches thirty minutes to go, then I am going to put it down and get the hell out.

I just hope that gives me enough time.

The minutes chew down, and with each step, I wonder if my death is inevitable.

I don’t let the thought linger. Instead, I move.

Leaf mold sticks to the sweat of my palms; needles crackle and crunch under my boots.

At one point, the thorns tear a line down the inside of my arm. No time to care. I keep moving.

The woods fight me. It’s like they know what’s on my back, and they want me out.

I try to think how far a bomb blast would reach—what counts as “far enough.” I guess anything has to be better than it being in the barn.

I force my legs to move, counting steps, counting breaths.

At thirty minutes, I stop and nearly collapse, knees buckling under the load.

I set the duffel in a hollow at the base of a large pine.

It looks small, almost harmless, sitting on the ground.

I back away slowly, then turn and run, letting everything behind me fall out of focus.

The path back feels so much harder than before, probably because my adrenaline is pumping and I feel like the world is going to collapse around me at every moment.

I don’t notice the way the woods carve my body up as I shove through them. I have one goal in mind. Get back to that barn and warn the guys. Maybe, just maybe, I have done enough to save our lives. We still have the issue of the cartel waiting, but at least they won’t be going into it blind.

I finally stagger into the opening, my lungs on fire from the run. I lean against a tree, trying to catch my breath. I have a second to focus before I hear it: shouting, angry brawl erupting. The clubs. Even from here, I can tell they are at each other, voices clipping through the still air.

I push myself forward. It takes me a second to reach the barn, and when I step inside, it is chaos.

Kael is pressed against the wall, his face bloody, his fists clenched in rage.

Gage is in front of him, squaring up, jaw clenched so tight the veins on his neck look ready to rip through the skin.

The rest of the crew stand back, letting them have their moment.

Far out.

We don’t have time for this.

“Listen boys,” I yell, so loudly everyone stops and their eyes widen. “While I appreciate you two fighting over me, we have a far bigger problem at hand. So can you put your dicks away for a minute.”

I can see the relief in both of their faces.

It won’t last long.

Not when I tell them what lies ahead.

~*~*~*~*~

E VERY GUY IN THAT ROOM just stares at me, like maybe I’m a hallucination.

I know they weren’t expecting me to be here, not alive at least. Kael gets to me first. Not a surprise, but still, the way he barrels forward, shoving Gage out of the way, to snatch my face between his hands is kind of beautiful.

He presses a kiss to my lips so rough, so powerful, I forget where we are for a moment.

He’s shaking when he pulls back. “What the fuck happened to you?” His voice is raw, burned out.

I try to smile, but it’s useless. I’m too wound up. “Got a little lost in the woods.”

His fingers grip harder. He turns my face this way, then that. His mouth says nothing for a second, and then: “Sable, you’re not—”

Gage moves quickly, shoving Kael aside as he steps up to me, trying to show Kael just who owns me. “What happened?”

He isn’t worried about my injuries. Just what happened to me.

It is in this moment, I know which man I would choose.

“I’m fine thank you,” I mutter sarcastically. “I just dragged a bomb out of the barn, and through the woods to save your ass.”

Gage’s back straightens and then everyone has taken a step closer. “A what.”

“A bomb. A big one, too. They had it all planned out. Get both clubs here, blow you all to hell, and make it look like a club war. I got away, don’t even ask how, and decided to get the bomb as far away from here as I can to give you guys a fighting chance.

So while I’d love to sit here and chat, we don’t have time.

It will go off any minute and when it does, that cartel will be down here in minutes. ”

For a second, the room is so silent I can only hear them breathing.

“What do you want us to do?” Kael turns to Wolfe, who is standing beside him, his face stony.

“We gotta outsmart them. If we try and leave, they will know their plan failed and come after us in another way. When that bomb goes off, and they see it ain’t here, they will come down guns blazin’ and ready for a fight. So that’s what we give ‘em. It’s the only shot we have.”

His eyes lock on Gage’s and I can see the two of them ready for a standoff.

“You two have to put this shit aside,” Knox growls from behind Wolfe. “We don’t have time right now. We gotta work together, or we all fuckin’ die. Not about whose club is bigger, better and scarier. What the fuck is the plan and how are we goin’ to walk out of here alive.”

Silence ensues, and then Wolfe offers a plan. It’s so simple it’s either genius or suicide: divide up, vanishing into the tree line to be completely out of sight when the cartel comes down. When they do, nobody hesitates, they come out shooting and take them down. Finishing this.

Everyone agrees, and we all split up.

Kael and Gage refuse to leave me, so I’m given no choice but to go with both of them.

We duck behind the barn, then into the tangled undergrowth, finding a spot shadowed by trees.

Somewhere nearby, I hear the click of a magazine snapping into a rifle.

More members are close. Kael pushes me down behind a bush and leans close, whispering, “Sable, I mean it. You don’t leave this fuckin’ spot, I don’t care what you see.

I don’t care what you hear. You do not leave. Promise me.”

Gage snorts beside us.

“What’s your fuckin’ problem?” Kael growls.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask my fuckin’ wife, cunt,” Gage hisses, pinning Kael with a glare.

“Not now,” I say, shaking my head and giving them both a stern look. “We don’t have time for this shit. Can you sort it out after?”

Both men keep the glares, but they don’t say anything further.