Chapter 5
STONE
The clubhouse has never looked so much like a fortress.
I’ve called ahead from the hospital, and by the time we pull into the lot, every light is blazing and half the club is waiting. Hawk climbs out of the back, and is already barking orders at the prospects.
“Main room clear. Guest rooms prepped. Maggie’s got the medical supplies ready.”
“Good.”The word comes out clipped, harsh. I don’t bother softening it.
Rage is a living thing inside me right now—coiled tight, waiting to strike. Someone got past my man. Someone walked into her hospital room and tried to smother her in her bed, and if it weren’t for a scared girl with a bedpan, Josie would be dead.
On my watch. Under my protection.
I want to put my fist through a wall. I want to find every single person connected to Summit and tear them apart with my bare hands. I want to burn their entire operation to the ground and salt the fucking earth.
Instead, I channel it into movement. Into purpose.
I’m out of the SUV before it fully stops, rounding to get Josie.
She’s pale in the harsh overhead lights, dark circles under her eyes, her jaw tight against the pain she’s trying to hide. Stubborn woman. She’d probably insist on walking if I gave her half a chance.
I don’t give her so much as a whisper.
“I can—” she starts.
“No.” I lift her out of the vehicle, ignoring her huff of protest. “Save your strength for arguing with me later. You’ll need it.”
“Promises, promises.”
Despite everything—the attack, the fear still coiled in my gut, the knowledge that someone has gotten close enough to kill her in her hospital bed—I almost smile. She’s bruised, broken, and still giving me shit.
That’s my girl.
Isabel climbs out behind us. Her eyes sweep the lot, the building, the men gathered outside. Taking stock. Planning.
I watch her for a beat, noting how she seems to be seeking out exits and weaknesses.
Who are you, little girl?
I file the question away for later. Right now, I have more pressing concerns—but that doesn’t mean I’m taking chances.
“Tank.” I keep my voice low. “Stay on her. Don’t crowd her, but don’t let her out of your sight.”
He nods once, understanding without needing an explanation.
“Inside,” I tell Isabel. “Maggie will get you sorted.”
She doesn’t argue, but she doesn’t relax either.
Maggie descends on us the moment we cross the threshold.
“Oh, honey.” She’s all business, her hands gentle as she checks Josie’s bandages, her pupils, her pulse. “What a mess. Let’s get you into a proper bed. The guest room’s all set up—fresh sheets, extra pillows, the good painkillers Duck’s been hoarding since his knee surgery.”
“I’m fine—”
“You’re not fine, you’re concussed and cracked and running on fumes.” Maggie shoots me a look. “Put her in the big guest room. I’ll be there in five with the first aid kit.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Josie groans. “I hate being carried.”
“Noted.” I don’t put her down.
The guest room is upstairs—private, quiet, with its own bathroom and a window that looks out over the back lot. I’ve had it set up for situations exactly like this, though I’ve never imagined I’d be using it for her.
I settle her on the bed as carefully as I can manage, propping pillows behind her back, pulling the blanket up over her legs. She watches me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” A pause. “You’re being very... domestic.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
But I like the soft look she wears as she watches me.
I want to stay. Want to sit beside her and hold her hand and make sure she keeps breathing. But I have a club to run, a man to interrogate, a threat to neutralize, and a meeting that can’t wait.
“Get some rest,” I tell her. “I’ve got business to handle, but I’ll check on you later.”
I move toward the door, but something stops me. The same thing that’s been stopping me for months—the pull of her, the gravity she exerts without even trying.
Fuck it.
I turn back. Cross the room in three strides. I lean down and press my lips to her forehead.
She goes still beneath me. I let the kiss linger—longer than I should. Her skin is warm under my mouth, and she smells like hospital antiseptic and a hint of perfume that’s all her.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide, searching my face.
“Stone—”
I brush a strand of hair from her forehead. “Rest that overworked brain of yours, Bright,” I say softly. “That’s all I want from you right now. Just… rest. Please.”
I’m at the door before she can respond, my heart pounding like I’m twenty years younger and twice as stupid.
“Stone.”
I pause, hand on the frame.
“About Isabel.” Josie’s brow furrows. “Something’s wrong with her. I don’t mean the obvious stuff—the bruises. Something else. She’s got somewhere she needs to be, and it’s eating her alive.”
“You think she’s a threat?”
“No. I think she’s scared.” She shakes her head slowly. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I think there’s something she’s not telling us.” She hesitates. “I know you need to protect the club, but don’t spook her. Whatever’s going on, she’s not ready to talk about it.”
“I won’t.”
I mean it. I won’t push Isabel or corner her.
Not unless she gives me a reason.
And if she does—if she puts Josie at risk—then all bets are off.
Josie holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods and lets her eyes close. “Go do your president thing. I’ll be here.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
I leave before I can do something stupid, like kiss her forehead again just because I want to.
Church is already assembled when I walk in.
Hawk, Lee, Tank, Axel, Cash, Bones, Duck, and Steel. All of them grim-faced, all of them waiting. The energy in the room is coiled tight, the kind of tension that precedes violence.
Good. They should be tense. Someone tried to kill my woman in her hospital bed.
“What do we know?” I ask, taking my seat at the head of the table.
“Our guest is awake,” Hawk says, a cold smile playing at his lips. “Took some convincing, but he’s talking.”
The hitman is in the box—a concrete bunker beneath the chapel that most people don’t know exists.
When the club bought this property decades ago, the previous owners had been survivalists.
They’d dug out a shelter beneath the old outbuilding, reinforced the walls, installed a ventilation system. We repurposed it.
It’s soundproofed, windowless, only accessible through a one way hatch in the chapel floor. Inside is a single room, now divided into two spaces by a single wall of bars. It’s the kind of place where difficult conversations are made to happen—by voluntary or otherwise.
“And?”
“Ivan sent him. Confirmation that Summit’s behind both hits—the car and tonight.”
Ivan. The cartel’s new local fixer, and the bastard who slipped through our fingers after kidnapping my daughter. The rest of them are dead for what they did to Emma.
“So it’s confirmed,” Lee says, jaw tight. “Summit’s cleaning house.”
Bones pulls up footage on his laptop. “Traffic cams caught the SUV that hit Josie. Ring cam footage from two blocks away shows the driver getting into a black Yukon—same model we’ve tracked to Ivan before. Tonight’s guy confirms it. Same handler, same orders.”
“He give up Ivan’s location?” I ask.
“Claims he doesn’t know. Dead drops, burner phones, the usual.” Hawk shrugs. “Could be lying. Want me to ask again?”
“Later.” I lean forward, palms flat on the table. “Josie’s got every piece of evidence against Summit, every connection between their shell companies and the cartel. Without her testimony, the DA’s case falls apart. They know it. We know it. This isn’t going to stop.”
Silence. The weight of it presses down on all of us.
“What about the girl?” Tank asks. “The one who took out the attacker?”
“Isabel. She’s a complication.”
“Complication how?”
“She saved Josie’s life, which means we owe her a debt. But she’s also—” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “Squirrelly. Josie thinks she’s hiding something. I agree.”
“Cartel plant?” Axel asks.
“I don’t think so. But I’m not ruling anything out.” I look around the table. “For now, she stays here. We keep eyes on her, see what she does.”
“And if she runs?”
“Then we find out where she’s running to.”
Lee leans back in his chair, frowning. “We need more bodies. If Summit’s escalating, we can’t cover everything with who we’ve got. Surveillance, protection details, regular ops—we’re stretched thin.”
He’s right. Between watching Summit properties, protecting Josie and Isabel, and maintaining our regular operations, we’re running on fumes.
“I’ll reach out to the Ridgeline chapter,” I say. “See if they can spare some men.”
Tank groans. “Ridgeline? Shit.”
“Problem?”
“No problem. Just—” He exchanges a look with Hawk. “You know who Ridgeline’s gonna send.”
I do know. The Ridgeline chapter has been our closest allies for fifteen years, and whenever they send support, they send their best. Which currently means—
“Brick,” Hawk says, fighting a smile. “Ginger’s baby brother.”
“He’s good,” I say. “We could use him.”
“Oh, he’s great. No argument there.” Tank scrubs a hand over his face.
“But you know what happens when Ginger’s baby brother comes to town.
She’s gonna be insufferable for weeks. ‘Bradley, are you eating enough? Tank, I think you should give Bradley some of your food. Bradley, you look tired, we’ll give you our bed.
Bradley Michael, I don’t care if you’re a grown man with a body count, you’re wearing a jacket because it’s cold outside. Tank, make him wear the jacket!’”
A ripple of laughter goes around the table.
“She’s not that bad,” Duck offers.
“She made him sit in the corner at the last cookout because he said ‘damn’ in front of Emma.” Tank shakes his head. “The man’s six-four, built like a brick shithouse, and she put him in time-out. I half expected her to force me to hold him down while she spanked his ass.”
“To be fair,” Hawk says, “he went.”
“Because he’s terrified of her! We all are!”