Chapter 41
Three blocks from Black Knights Inc.
“Careful!” Black Widow hissed when the toe of Sabrina’s patent leather pump caught on a crack in the sidewalk, nearly sending her sprawling onto her face.
The assassin jerked their joined wrists so hard the metal handcuff bit into Sabrina’s skin and bruised the bone beneath. “If you go down, I go down.”
There’s a thought, Sabrina mused. I could end all this by jumping in front of the next city bus.
She would be dead, of course. But so would Black Widow. And that might make it all worth it.
She regretted her shoe choice with every step.
The narrow back straps were cutting deep furrows into her heels.
She regretted the underwire bra she’d put on since it was doing its damndest to puncture a hole clean through her armpit.
But what she regretted most of all, what she cursed herself for, was not going full rabid raccoon on Black Widow the moment the assassin sat next to her on that park bench.
Should’ve punched her square in the mouth, she thought, her temper flaring hotter with each passing second and each painful step. Should’ve scratched her eyes clean from her head. Should’ve ripped out her newly dyed hair by the roots.
Then she reminded herself that she hadn’t had the time. The unforgiving press of cold steel against her ribs had precluded any chance of going on the offensive.
A pistol trumped punishment any day.
But, oh, the fantasy was nice.
Surprise—and no small amount of wariness—slammed into her once they turned a corner and she realized where they were headed. “Why are you taking me back to BKI?”
“Shut up,” Black Widow snarled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Possibilities pinged around in Sabrina’s skull like pinballs.
Did Black Widow plan to use her as a ticket inside the compound? If so, to what end? Sabotage? Revenge? Carnage for the hell of it?
Or maybe she planned to march Sabrina up to the big, wrought-iron gate and pull the trigger there…knowing one of the Connelly brothers would be in the guard shack to witness the murder, knowing security cameras would catch it all.
She didn’t put it past the assassin to be cruel for cruelty’s sake. Or for her to mete out retribution for Hummer even though she claimed the contrary. But neither did Sabrina peg the woman for a fool.
Black Widow had to know what it would mean if she killed Sabrina. The Black Knights would never stop hunting her.
Sabrina could still hear Boss’s deep voice. There’s no corner of the world you can go to where we can’t find you. There’s no amount of protection you could pull around yourself that we can’t penetrate.
It wasn’t bravado or bluster. The truth had rung clearly in his words, shone fiercely from his eyes. Surely Black Widow had seen and heard it the same way Sabrina had and—
Where the hell was Hew?
It was impossible to keep track of time when her blood raced with high-octane adrenaline. Each second stretched, warped, and extended until she would swear it’d been an eternity since she’d thumbed out that text.
Of course, logically, she knew no more than a few minutes had passed. The little park was only a few blocks from BKI and—
A terrible thought suddenly occurred.
What if he hadn’t received her text?
What if he’d left his phone charging on his nightstand? What if he’d ignored the alert, figuring it was nothing important? What if he was in the shower, water pounding over his broad shoulders, while she was being frog-marched by a psychopath? What if—
And then she heard it.
A sound like rolling thunder. It filled the ears and reverberated in the chest. A motorcycle engine, throttled high and coming fast.
Relief burst through her so hard she had to fight to keep her knees from buckling.
He’s coming! Hew’s coming!
Of course, terror immediately piggybacked on the heels of her brief reprieve.
Dragging Hew into this meant putting him squarely in the center of Black Widow’s sights. She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to him.
Why hadn’t she let Martin drop her at the gate? She should’ve ignored her need for fresh air, her need for space outside the shop, and done the smart thing. The safe thing.
If she kept bringing danger to BKI’s door, the Black Knights might very well decide the revenue she brought in through her social media accounts wasn’t worth the trouble she made and—
Her racing thoughts ground to a halt when she realized what she’d thought was one motorcycle was actually two. Two huge, custom-made miracles with souped-up engines and hand-tooled exhaust systems.
They were close.
And then they were there.
Hew was the first to blaze around the corner, his big body bent low over Freedom’s handlebars. Man and machine were one. Wild. Raw. Yet somehow tightly controlled.
And right behind him came Boss. His pearly white motorcycle roared like the beast it was. The bike was every bit as massive and intimidating as the man who straddled it.
Sabrina nearly laughed.
Black Widow was insane to think she could square off against guys like these. Guys who’d been forged in blood and battle. Scarred warriors who dealt with danger and death as easily as other men dealt with breakfast.
A feral grin pulled at her lips. It was petty, maybe even a bit childish, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “You’re in for it now.”
Black Widow didn’t bother answering. Instead, she cursed and shoved Sabrina in front of her, forcing Sabrina’s cuffed wrist behind her back at a painful angle.
The gun barrel moved from her ribs to her spine, and the assassin pressed hard enough that Sabrina thought she was trying to bore a hole clean through the vertebrae.
“How the hell did they find us?” Black Widow hissed. “You got a panic button hidden on you somewhere?”
“Something like that,” Sabrina admitted evasively, congratulating herself on her quick thinking. She hadn’t been able to go full rabid raccoon on Black Widow. But she had been able to call in the big guns.
Literally.
Boss had a piece strapped to his ribs while Hew’s weapon was cinched to his thigh. Neither man had bothered to conceal their carries.
A calculated decision, no doubt.
When Hew hit the brakes, Freedom skidded sideways, tires screaming. Rubber burning. Smoke curling.
The maneuver should’ve dumped him onto the asphalt. It would have dumped most men. But with a big, booted foot braced hard against the pavement, he muscled the bike under control and came to a rocking stop.
By contrast, Boss was all precision and calm. The huge, white motorcycle rolled to a dignified halt a split second before his biker boots landed on the roadway.
The smell of melted rubber and hot cement hit Sabrina’s nose before Hew’s wonderful voice hit her ears. “Sabrina!”
The three syllables were ragged, filled with equal parts urgency and fury. And maybe a pinch of fear?
“I’m okay!” she shouted, throwing her free hand in the air as proof, her purse dangling by the strap from her fingers.
The thunder of the bikes’ idling engines ricocheted off the buildings and rolled down the street. Black Widow had to lift her voice to be heard above the racket. “I don’t want to hurt her! I just want to talk!”
“Ya don’t need a hostage if all ya wanna do is talk!” Hew bellowed, his voice like a battle cry as it carried over the short distance. “Let her go as a show of good faith!”
Black Widow’s hot breath scalded the back of Sabrina’s neck when she hollered, “If I let her go, what’s to stop you from loading her up and riding away? Or sending a bullet through my brain?”
“That’s why it’s a show of good faith!” Hew shot back, his accent clipping the words like an ax striking wood. “There aren’t any guarantees. You either trust us or ya don’t!”
A taxi passed by, the driver craning his head at the scene. Sabrina had to appreciate the situation from his point of view. Two women were huddled on the sidewalk while two huge, intimidating men on motorcycles yelled and gestured.
Great. The last thing we need is the authorities showing up, she thought.
She was close enough for her voice to float across the inches between her and the assassin without her having to raise it. “The Black Knights aren’t liars. To a man, they hold true to their word.”
A ragged breath sawed in her ear. Then another as Black Widow ran through her options.
“Promise you won’t kill me!” the assassin finally demanded. Her voice cracked. Barely. But Sabrina heard it. “Promise you’ll hear me out!”
Sabrina caught the flick of Hew’s eyes toward Boss. For the span of two heartbeats, the men communicated without words. Then, Boss gave a dip of his chin, and Hew raised his voice again.
“Ya have our word! Now, let Sabrina go!”
Five interminable seconds ticked by. And Sabrina counted each one. Then, miraculously, the gun barrel pulled away from her spine, and the cuff around her wrist popped open with a muted shnick.
She immediately rolled her shoulder forward, working out the familiar tension. If she never had to spend another second with her arms wrenched behind her back, it would still be too soon.
“Come here, Sabrina.” Hew motioned with a big hand, keeping the other casually wrapped around the butt of his gun. “Come to me.”
Gladly, she thought, bolting toward him.
It wasn’t dignified. It wasn’t careful—not that there was a way to do either in the heels or form-fitting dress.
It was like her soul depended on it. The warm air whipped her face.
Her pumps clacked a quick rhythm against the pavement.
And she never once looked back to see what Black Widow was doing.
When she made it to Hew, relief blew through her like hurricane-force winds.
His jaw was set at a hard angle. Danger seemed to shimmer off him like heat from the sidewalk in the middle of August. And he only spared her a quick glance, a half-second to scan her face and search for injuries, before his focus snapped back to the assassin.
“Get on.” His voice was urgent and only for her ears. “Careful of the exhaust pipe.”
“I remember,” she assured him, tossing her purse strap over her shoulder so she could hike her skirt high enough to swing a leg over Freedom’s seat.
She had to keep the hem bunched indecently high across her thighs to straddle the bike and Hew’s hips. But she didn’t give a rat’s ass about decency. All she cared about was wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her chest flush against the broad wall of his back. And going home.
“Toss your piece into the gutter!” Boss barked, pointing toward the storm drain hole that was cut into the curb.
Black Widow’s eyes rounded. “You’re crazy if you think I—”
“You’re not coming anywhere with us armed!” Boss’s voice cut her off as cleanly as a guillotine’s blade, just as a city bus rumbled by.
Sabrina caught a glimpse of a half-dozen faces in the windows. Only one was turned toward her. But she saw the woman blink in confusion and then frown in concern.
Come on, come on, she thought. We need to take this thing off the street!
“You got something you want us to hear?” Boss continued. “You’ll do as I say!”
Sabrina saw the hesitation in Black Widow’s face. The sawing of the jaw. The twitch of the cheek. For a moment, she wondered if the assassin might decline to see this thing through.
Whatever this thing is, she thought.
But desperation won out in the end.
After a sharp jerk of her head, Black Widow strode toward the curb with that familiar feline grace. Then, with expert aim, she tossed her pistol into the storm drain’s yawning black mouth. It fell into the waiting abyss and landed at the bottom with a satisfying thunk.
“There!” the assassin snarled. “Happy now?” She nervously scanned the road and buildings around them. “Can we get off the goddamned street?”
Boss angled his head toward Hew. “You two go on. I’ll follow this one to the compound.”
“Ya sure?” Hew’s voice was reluctant. “She’d rather shoot a man than blink.” He hitched his chin toward Black Widow.
Boss’s answering wink was quick, confident. “I’ve dealt with far worse than her. And besides”—he patted the bulging grip of the pistol riding high in his shoulder holster—“if she tries anything hinky, I’ll drop her.”
The words were for Hew, sure. But Sabrina knew they were more for Black Widow’s benefit.
Hew dipped his chin, decision made. Then he turned slightly, his voice a growl. “Hang on.”
Don’t gotta tell me twice, Sabrina thought, and tightened her arms around his waist.
When he gunned the throttle, Freedom leaped forward like the two-wheeled monster it was, eating up the pavement in great, roaring chunks. The warm wind whipped tears into her eyes until the city blurred around her.
She didn’t care. She didn’t need to see. Not when every ounce of her being was focused on how good it was to touch Hew again.
She hadn’t put even a fingertip on him in two weeks, and holding him now proved how much she’d missed the feel of him. The solidity of him. The unimaginable warmth of him.
In what felt like mere seconds, the wrought-iron gate of BKI loomed. Manus Connelly was quick to hit the switch that sent it rattling open. But even after Hew guided them into the compound, Sabrina couldn’t fully relax.
Black Widow was coming.
And she couldn’t shake the feeling that the assassin was bringing something sinister with her.