Chapter 22 Ice
The boat’s engine snarls, tearing through the swamp’s eerie stillness like a predator on the hunt. We spot a decrepit building squatting at the water’s edge. That’s got to be it. According to Pedro, this is where Juan brings his victims.
Vapor and I exchange a look—no words needed. We’ve done this a hundred times. Lock. Load. Kill. The others pick up on the intensity of the moment. They silently slip out of the boat into the water and wade toward shore.
“Too quiet,” I whisper, eyes scanning the area. No guards, no movement. My gaze drops to a series of well-delineated boot prints along the shore, a sure sign someone has been here recently. “Where are they?”
“Maybe they’re waiting for us in the swamp,” Vapor counters, his voice low, sharp blue eyes alert. He signals to the others. “Fan out. Look for signs of Bella or the cartel.”
Our men head into the swamp in search of the enemy.
“Let’s check the building.” I approach it cautiously. The front door is cracked open, but no one seems to be inside. They would have shot at us when we moored the boat. If it weren’t for the footprints, I would think this place was deserted.
Pulling our guns from our cuts, Vapor and I enter side by side. Old wood creaks underfoot, echoing in the cavernous space. Dust motes dance in the gloomy light. It smells like decay and desperation, but there’s also the faint scent of oranges, like the shampoo Bella uses.
“She was here. I smell her.” I glance at Vapor.
“Keep looking.”
Every sense is dialed to eleven, every shadow a potential threat, every silence a held breath. This place is exactly where Juan would hold someone captive. Isabella isn’t the first person he’s kidnapped, but if I have anything to do with it, she’ll be the last.
“Look.” I point to a spot near the center of the room.
Broken zip ties litter the floor, smeared with blood—a brutal signature of resistance. Isabella fought like hell. An overturned chair nearby whispers tales of violence and defiance. My eyes linger on the scene, piecing it together with the precision of a forensic analyst. Isabella’s been here, alright. Who the hell else could it be?
“Looks like she got herself free,” Vapor mutters, his voice tinged with respect.
I can’t help but feel a swell of pride. Despite everything, she’s as tough as they come.
“Damn straight,” I reply, my voice low. “But where the hell did she go from here?”
“No fucking idea. Maybe she left a clue. Keep looking.”
We fan out, our movements silent save for the occasional crunch of debris underfoot. The stillness of the place gnaws at me, a reminder that every second counts in the hunt for Isabella.
Suddenly, outside, a shout from one of our men slices through the heavy air. “Found something!”
“Coming!” I bolt, my boots slamming against the weathered planks as I make for the door.
When I reach Gator, one of our patched members, he holds up a swatch of fabric. I recognize the pattern immediately.
“It’s Isabella’s,” I confirm.
“Where’d you find it?” Vapor asks Gator.
“Stuck on a bush over here.” He leads us to the spot before squatting and pointing at the ground. “Fresh tracks. More than one, too. I think the cartel guys followed her into the swamp.”
“She escaped the building. Found broken zip ties,” I tell him.
“Checks out. She ran. They followed.” Gator stands and looks from me to Vapor. “We going in?”
“Yeah,” Vapor says.
With every muscle coiled tight, I’m out into the muggy embrace of the swamp before my mind fully registers the move. I spot something up ahead. A scrap of cloth flutters in the grip of a thorny bush. It’s another piece of Isabella’s shirt.
“Over here!” I bark, instinctively taking command. The MC members gather around, squinting at the torn fabric. It’s a beacon, a signal fire. She’s alive. Somewhere out here, Isabella is fighting for her life, evading her captors with every ounce of cunning she possesses.
“Keep your eyes sharp,” I snap. “She’s close. I can feel it.”
We fan out into the swamp’s treacherous embrace. Every snap of a twig or rustle in the underbrush has me on edge, ready to spring into action. Isabella’s out there, depending on us to be her lifeline. And I’ll be damned if we’re not going to pull her back in.
Vapor catches up to me, his sharp blue eyes scanning the darkness before they lock on mine. “We need to comb through every inch of this swamp,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Does she know how to navigate it at night?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. She’s not exactly nature girl.”
“Then Juan’s men aren’t the only dangerous creatures out here.”
“Exactly. If they don’t get her, a gator might.”
“Or a snake,” Vapor says grimly.
I nod, already deeply entrenched in that headspace. We’ve got to get to her, and fast. The rest of the MC members circle around us, faces set, ready for whatever lies ahead. They know the stakes couldn’t be any higher, but they’re just as determined as we are to get to her before something terrible happens.
“Listen up,” Vapor says. “This terrain ain’t forgiving. Watch for snakes, gators, and quicksand.” His words are a grim reminder of what we’re walking into, a natural minefield where one wrong step could be our last.
I take point, pushing past the torn fabric still caught in the thorns, my gaze tracing the faint trail Isabella must’ve taken. Mud sucks at my boots, trying to hold me back. Every step is a battle. The air clings to me like a second skin, heavy with the scent of decay and blooming water lilies—a deceptive perfume masking the dangers below.
Cicadas drone their monotonous song, interrupted only by the distant croak of a bullfrog or the splash of something unseen moving through the water. It’s a symphony of the wild, both haunting and alive, and it sets my nerves on edge. I’m tuned into every sound, every shift in the dense foliage that signals potential threats or signs of Isabella.
“Stay close,” I call back without turning my head, trusting the others to follow my lead.
The underbrush snags at my jeans, but I press on, following the barely discernible path. It’s the only connection to Isabella we’ve got, so we can’t lose it.
Every shadow could be her, every whisper of movement could be a signal for help—or a warning. We’re in the heart of the bayou now, a world away from the throbbing pulse of Bourbon Street and the comfort of Vapor’s house. But this is what family does, we venture into the abyss for one of our own.
“You hear that?” Vapor whispers.
A twig cracks and our world erupts into chaos.
Gunfire slices through the dense air—sharp, sudden, a blistering echo against the soft chorus of the bayou. We’re ambushed before we even see them, bullets zipping past like pissed-off hornets.
I dive to the ground, rolling behind a gnarled cypress. Vapor’s already there, returning fire with the cold precision that’s made him a legend in the NOLA underworld. The cartel goons are shadows flitting between the trees, but we’ve fought phantoms before.
“Left flank!” I bark out as I spot a silhouetted figure darting through the brush. My finger squeezes the trigger, the recoil a familiar punch against my palm. The figure drops, and I’m moving again, Vapor covering my back.
“Two more, ten o’clock!” His voice cuts through the gunfire, a lifeline in the cacophony. We move in tandem, breathing in sync, a deadly ballet choreographed by necessity.
Our attackers underestimated us. They don’t count on the bond of brotherhood that ties the UVMC tighter than any blood oath. The cartel men fall, one by one, their cries swallowed by the swamp.
Silence returns, oppressive and thick, as the last of the assailants lies still among the twisted roots. We check for stragglers, our senses razor-sharp, ready for anything.
“Clear,” Vapor says, his tone edged with the weight of survival. We share a nod, no words needed. Our search in the dark resumes, every second counting against us.
Then I see it—a small indentation in the mud. A footprint, delicate and unmistakable. Isabella’s. Relief surges through me so fiercely I nearly stagger.
“Over here.” I gesture to Vapor, pointing at the print. The sight of it ignites something primal within me, a feral blend of hope and fury. She’s alive. She’s close.
“Let’s go, brother.” Vapor’s presence is a rock in the shifting sands of this godforsaken place. I’m glad he’s by my side.
We push forward as quickly as we dare. Every step could be a trap, every noise a new threat, but none of it matters. Isabella’s trail is fresh, leaving breadcrumbs for us to follow. I’ll walk through hell itself to find her, to bring her home.
My boots sink into the muck with each labored step. The underbrush claws at my jeans like the talons of some mythical beast. Vapor’s right behind me, as silent as a ghost, his presence a constant reassurance in this tangled labyrinth of nature.
“Damn, it’s like walking through wet concrete,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
My arms are streaked with scratches, but I barely feel them. All that matters is finding Isabella before the bayou swallows her whole.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Vapor says, his voice low, almost lost amid the buzz of insects and the distant croak of frogs.
The trail we’re following is barely discernible. A broken twig here, a trampled patch of ferns there, but it’s enough. We’re on the right path. She passed this way recently, so she can’t be far now. The thought sharpens my focus, narrows the world down to the signs left by her passage.
“Look,” I whisper, pointing out a scrap of fabric caught on a thorn.
“Getting closer,” Vapor acknowledges.
A branch snaps underfoot, and I freeze, every muscle tensed. Was that us, or something else? The swamp is alive with hidden dangers, but human predators are the deadliest of all. The air feels charged, electric with the potential for violence.
“What if she’s hiding and we walk right past her?” I mumble so only Vapor can hear me.
“If she spots one of our cuts, she will know it’s safe to come out,” Vapor says, reassuring me. He’s right, but it’s hard to contain the urgency that’s got me strung tight as a bowstring. Everything hinges on these next moments. Will we find her in time? Or will we be too late?
My gaze sweeps the terrain, searching for another sign that she came this way. And then I see it—a fresh set of footprints leading deeper into the morass, the imprint of a small, determined stride. My pulse quickens, adrenaline coursing through me. We’re on her tail now, and the chase is reaching its crescendo.
The dark, thick, green veil of the swamp parts like curtains as I push past hanging moss. Vapor’s right on my heels along with the rest of our crew.
“Wait!” Vapor grabs the back of my cut, stopping me.
“What?”
“There.” He points to a clearing up ahead. “I think I see someone.”
Time slows as my eyes adjust to the change in light and shadow. Two people stand in the center of the clearing. The taller one is holding the other in a death grip. Juan wraps his arm tighter around Isabella’s throat, a gun pressed to her temple, his dark eyes boring into mine.
“Drop your weapons,” Juan’s voice cuts through the night. As his grip on Isabella tightens even more, the whites of her eyes widen with fear.
I toss my gun into the darkness before motioning for Vapor and the others to back up. I don’t want them in the way. If Juan wants to kill someone, it’s going to be me. Not them.
“Let her go,” I say, keeping my voice even while a tempest of rage burns in my belly. I slowly venture closer as I speak, hoping my words are enough of a distraction. “This isn’t the way.”
“Isn’t it?” he sneers. “You come into my territory, disrupt my business, steal my sister from her family, and you think you can dictate how this ends?”
“She doesn’t want to be a part of your family anymore,” I growl, taking another step forward.
“The only way she gets out is if she dies.”
Vapor shifts behind me, restless as a caged animal. I throw him a look, one that says, “Hold steady.” This is chess, not checkers. Juan is the type of player who would sacrifice a pawn without a second thought. That’s all Isabella has ever been to him.
“Let her go. She doesn’t deserve this.” I let my gaze linger on her, silently promising that I’ll get her out of this. She gives me a tight smile.
“Deserve?” Juan laughs, a hollow sound. “Since when does what anyone deserves matter in our world? You know how this works. You’ve played the game just as long as I have.”
“Juan…” Isabella’s voice cracks. “Please…”
His arm jerks, reminding me of who’s in control. “Shut up, Isabella. This is between me and them.”
“Them?” I echo, my mind racing, looking for an angle. “Your beef is with me, not the club. Let her go, and we can settle this.”
“Settle this?” Juan snorts. “There’s nothing to negotiate. Only one of us has power. And right now,” he presses the gun harder against her temple, “that’s me.”
Juan’s finger tightens on the trigger, his eyes locking onto mine—challenging, taunting. He thinks he’s already won. Isabella’s eyes, those clear blue depths that have haunted my dreams, are wide with fear, yet there’s a defiance in them that tells me she hasn’t given up.
My gaze flicks between Juan and Isabella, searching for an opening, a weakness. I can’t let my emotions get the better of me, not when Isabella’s life hangs by a thread. The analytical part of my brain kicks into overdrive, dissecting the scene like a chessboard, calculating each potential move and its consequences. If I could just get closer…
“Killing her won’t get you what you want,” I say steadily, keeping my voice even, despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. It’s a risk, talking to him like this, but I need to keep him engaged, keep him thinking while I incrementally close the gap between us.
“ Silencio! ” he spits back at me, but I can tell he’s listening. He’s always been one to gloat, to savor his perceived victories. It’s his weakness, and I cling to that, letting it anchor me.
I take a slow breath, the swamp air thick in my lungs, and I let it out silently. My heart races, but outwardly, I remain perfectly still. Everything I do next has to be deliberate, precise.
“It’s me you want, right?” I keep my voice soft, almost intimate, as if we’re sharing a secret. “We can end this here, now. No more bloodshed.”
“Bloodshed?” His lip curls in disgust. “You think you’re some kind of hero, Ice? You’re just another thug on a bike, playing vigilante hero to a damsel in distress.”
“Maybe.” I shrug nonchalantly, sneaking another few inches forward. “But I’m willing to make a trade. Me for her.”
“No, Ice. Don’t do it,” Isabella pleads.
For a moment, just a heartbeat, I see it—the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. It’s all I need.
“Fine,” he sneers, and I see my opening. His arrogance seals his fate.“But first—”
I don’t wait for him to finish. In one fluid motion, I lunge forward, closing the distance, gambling everything on this split-second decision. My movement startles him—it’s written all over his face—and his grip on Isabella falters.
“Run, Bella!” I shout as I launch myself at Juan, tackling him to the ground.
She doesn’t hesitate. She bolts toward Vapor and the others, her survival instincts kicking in. All that matters now is that she’s safe.
Juan thrashes beneath me. A shot explodes, shattering the night—my ears ring, but I don’t feel the bullet. Not yet. I wait for the pain to come, but it doesn’t. He tries to get another shot off, but I slap the weapon out of his hand.
Everything slows down, each second stretching out endlessly as we grapple in the mud. I try to gain the upper hand, but he’s fast and slippery as an eel. He rolls away from me before I can grab him, and scrambles into the brush.
“Catch!” Vapor yells, tossing me his gun.
I grab it and chase after Juan, running through the swamp. He’s fast, but I’m right on his heels. I take a shot, but I miss. He darts into the water, splashing as he swims across it toward the other shore. I run into the black water until it’s waist-deep. Wading as fast as I can, I get to the middle of the river as he reaches the other side. As he steps onto solid ground, I stop so I can aim. Pulling the trigger, I hit him right in the kneecap.
“Fuck!” Juan cries out as his leg crumples beneath him.
I could have shot him in the back, but I didn’t because I want to see the light fade from his eyes when he dies. I want him to know it was me.
He crawls across the mud, desperately trying to get away. I swim as fast as I can. I can’t wait to finish him.
I surge from the water like a vengeful spirit, gun raised—Juan’s mine. Then fire rips through my calf, sharp as a blade. The pain is instant, raw, merciless. I turn to find a fucking cottonmouth latched onto the back of my leg.
“Fuck!” I grab the snake and rip its fangs out of my skin. Throwing it against the ground, I jump back. As it turns to attack, I shoot its head off.
Fire explodes through my calf, a searing, white-hot pain that spreads like venom-laced lightning through my veins. My muscles seize almost instantly, the skin around the bite already swelling.
“What the fuck happened?” Vapor yells as he reaches my side.
“Snake. Get Juan.”
“Where?”
“That way.” I point to where Juan disappeared into the darkness.
“Go after him,” Vapor orders the other men.
They rush forward in search of the cartel leader.
I grab Viper by his cut. “Get him. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not fucking leaving you. If we don’t get you to a hospital, you’re going to lose your leg. We don’t have much time.” Vapor pulls his phone out of his cut and clicks on the flashlight app. “Shit. Fuck. Skin’s already darkening. Like it’s rotting from the inside out.”
A wave of nausea hits me hard, my vision tunneling as dizziness drags me toward the mud, the pounding of my heart the only thing louder than my ragged breaths.
“Bella,” I rasp. Then I see her—mud-streaked, fierce, alive. Relief crashes into me like a tidal wave. And then… darkness.
***
When I wake up in the hospital, Isabella’s standing by my side. Her hair’s a tangled mess and she’s covered in scratches and mud, but she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Bella,” I groan, my throat raw, my body wrecked—but she’s here. She made it.
“Oh, thank God!” She crashes into me, warm, real, safe. Her body shakes, and I realize—she’s crying. “I thought you were going to die.”
A doctor walks into the room. “Damn lucky,” the doctor mutters. “Cottonmouths don’t play around. The venom started working fast, but we got antivenom in you before it could do real damage. I cleaned out the bite, gave you fluids to keep your blood pressure stable, and monitored for any allergic reactions—so far, so good. Your leg’s going to be swollen and sore for a while, but with rest and meds, you’ll pull through. Just try not to piss off any more snakes.”
"Bastard bit the wrong man. If I hadn’t shot the fucker, I’d be making boots out of his hide,” I growl.
“At least it won’t be biting anyone else.” The doctor smirks. “The nurse will be in to change your IV bag in a few minutes. If you need anything, the call button’s beside your bed.”
“How long do I have to stay?”
“At least twenty-four hours for observation. We need to make sure there’s no delayed reaction to the venom or the antivenom, and that the swelling doesn’t cause any complications. If everything looks good by tomorrow, we’ll get you on some pain meds and send you home with instructions to keep weight off that leg for a few days. But if there’s any sign of infection or lingering tissue damage, you might be here a little longer.”
“I’ll be fine,” I mutter.
“He’s not leaving until you say it’s safe,” Isabella says to the doctor, while giving me a stern look. She’s so hot when she’s bossy.
“Tough woman you got there.” The doctor grins. “But she smells like swamp and needs a shower. Can you get her to do that?”
“I’ll try, but she’s not a woman who can be told what to do.”
“Not anymore,” she says, reaching for my hand.
“But, babe,” I scrunch my nose, “he’s right. You smell like swamp ass.”
“Gross.”
“The nurses gave him a sponge bath earlier, but he’s going to need another one now,” the doctor says. “I’ll send them to clean him up.”
“I’ll wash him,” she snarls, all possessive and sexy.
“Suite yourself.” He shrugs, heading toward the door to the hallway. “Shower’s in the adjoining bathroom. Also, can you do something about all the men in the waiting room? They’re distracting the nurses.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say.
“No, you won’t. I will,” Bella says, puffing her chest as the doctor leaves.
“Shower first,” I say.
“Kiss. Then shower.”
She presses her soft lips to mine. As much as I want to prolong the kiss, that smell is getting more revolting by the second.
“Babe,” I say, breaking the kiss.
“Be right back.”
As soon as the shower turns on, the nurse comes in. She’s carrying a duffle bag. “One of those guys in the lobby brought a bunch of clothes for your girlfriend.”
“Thank you.”
She sets the bag on a small table in the corner of the room. “And about those guys out there… are any of them single?”
“Everyone but Vapor,” I say, smirking.
“Good to know.” Her eyes glisten with mischief as she leaves the room.
I must have passed out for a bit because when I open my eyes again, Bella’s standing over me, smelling like freshly peeled oranges and sunshine. She’s sitting beside my bed, holding my hand. “Welcome back. Want some ice chips?”
“I’d rather have a beer.”
Her melodious laughter fills the room. “Later. For now, ice chips.”
“Yummy.” I sigh.
“I thought I lost you,” she whispers as she feeds me the first piece.
“Never. You’re stuck with me from now on. Forever.”
“I love you, Ice.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me wildly. This time, I don’t push her away. She smells like heaven. When she finally stops to take a breath, she adds, “ “Not because you saved me. Because you’re you. Fierce, loyal, impossible not to love. Vapor told me that you got the women and children out.”
“We got them all, Bella. They’re safe. And so are you. That’s all that matters. I love you. You’re the strongest, bravest woman I’ve ever known. And that’s saying a lot. I hope you know, you’re mine now.”
“Yes. And you’re mine.” She smiles through her tears and hugs me again.
“Fuck!” I grimace as a fresh wave of agony stabs through my leg.
“I’ll get the nurse. They’re so stingy with the pain meds. I know there’s all these drug addicts and shit, but seriously, a cottonmouth bit you. Maybe it’s okay to give you some fucking drugs.” She stomps out of the room a second later, leaving me with my jaw hanging open. She’s sure as hell learned a few things from being around me. It’s sexy as hell to see her get so fired up. She’s going to make a great wife.
I freeze. Shit. A wife?
“Fuckin’ A.” I grin.
“What?” she asks, returning with the same nurse from earlier. “She’s got something to make you feel better. Also, she got Fang’s number.”
“No shit?” And here I was, thinking Fang didn’t date.
“He’s super cute.” The nurse blushes as she injects something into the IV. It only takes a few seconds for the pain to subside. “If you’re still feeling okay in an hour, I’ll bring you some Jell-O.”
“Cherry?”
“Unfortunately, we only have the clear options. Lemon, lime, or orange.”
“Orange,” I say, wishing it was my woman I was contemplating eating instead of jiggly kid food.
“No problem. Back in a bit.”
“I’m going to tell the guys what’s going on. Close your eyes for a bit and I’ll be right back.” Isabella kisses my cheek before leaving.
She comes back with Vapor in tow. “Nurse said only one visitor at a time. I’m going to the cafeteria to grab a bite with Fang and the others.”
“Okay.” As soon as she’s gone, I fix my gaze on Vapor. “Did you get Juan?”
“Didn’t find his body.”
“How the fuck did he get away?” I demand.
“When you went down, we lost him in the swamp. Can’t see shit at night. Went back this morning to search but couldn’t find shit.” Vapor looks as furious as I feel.
“I shot him in the kneecap. He couldn’t have gone far.”
“Had the same thought. Probably became gator food.”
“Most likely. If he didn’t have help, there’s no way he could have walked out of that place. We were miles from the nearest road.”
“I consider him as good as dead. Still wish we had a body though.”
“Me too.”
“You doing okay? Isabella said you might get out of here tomorrow.”
“That’s what the doc said.”
“Nice. Get better, man.” Vapor heads toward the door. “I’ll let everyone know you win this year’s club patch for dumbest injury.”
“I didn’t even see that nope rope until it latched onto my leg.”
“Man, I thought you were tough, but one little noodle with fangs takes you down? Guess I better start calling you ‘Cottonmouth’s Bitch.’ That would be a good club name,” Vapor says, grinning while rubbing his beard.
“Fucking asshole.”
Vapor laughs until he spots Isabella in the hallway. “If Doc says it’s cool, we’ll be here with your ride tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
After Vapor leaves, Isabella fusses over me, feeding me Jell-O, when all I really want is her. Oh well, at least she’s safe now. And I plan to keep her in my bed for the rest of our lives, so I’ll just have to wait. Stupid fucking snake.