Chapter 22
STONE
The warehouse erupts into chaos the moment the FBI breaches.
Flash-bangs go first—three of them through the ground-floor windows, turning the night into a strobe of white light and concussive thunder. Then the tactical teams pour in, black-clad figures moving in precise formation, shouting commands that get lost in the roar of gunfire.
I’m not supposed to be inside. Pilkin made that clear.
Perimeter support, she’d said. Let my people handle the extraction.
Fuck that.
“Stone!” Hawk grabs my arm as I move toward the loading dock entrance. “Pilkin said—”
“I know what she fucking said.” I shake him off. “Josie’s in there. I’m going in.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“No. Hold the perimeter. Make sure no one gets out.” I check my weapon—Glock 19, full magazine, one in the chamber. “Lee, you’re with me. Tank, back up Hawk. Nobody leaves this building unless they’re wearing a badge or a cut.”
“What about Steel?” Tank asks.
I look up at the neighboring building where a shadow moves into position on the rooftop. The kid found his perch. Now he just needs a target.
“Steel does what Steel does best.” I pull my balaclava down. “Let’s move.”
The loading dock door is already open—FBI cleared it thirty seconds ago.
Lee and I slip through the gap, staying low, moving fast. The main floor is pandemonium.
Workers scrambling for exits. Guards returning fire from behind processing tables.
FBI agents advancing in two-man teams, methodical and relentless.
But I’m not here for the main floor.
“Second level,” I shout over the gunfire. “Josie’s in the office.”
Lee nods, and we break left, heading for the metal staircase that hugs the far wall. A guard steps into our path—young, scared, gun shaking in his hands. Lee drops him with a single punch, knocking him out cold before he can fire one off.
“Keep moving,” Lee says. “I’ve got your six.”
The stairs rattle under our boots. Halfway up, I hear it—a woman’s scream, cut short. My blood turns to ice.
Josie.
I take the remaining stairs three at a time, bursting onto the second-floor catwalk with my gun up and my heart in my throat. The foreman’s office is twenty feet ahead, its windows shattered, smoke still curling from the flash-bang.
Standing in the doorway, using Josie as a human shield, is Vincent Caruso.
He’s got one arm locked around her throat, a pistol pressed to her temple. Her face is a mess—swollen lip, blackening eye, blood drying on her chin. But her eyes are alert, fierce, tracking my every move.
She’s alive. She’s hurt, but she’s alive.
“That’s far enough!” Caruso’s voice is high, tight with panic. Whatever smooth control he had before is gone. He’s a cornered animal now, and cornered animals are dangerous. “Drop your weapons or I put a bullet through her brain!”
I stop. Lee stops behind me.
“Not happening.” I keep my gun trained on Caruso, but I don’t have a shot. Josie’s body blocks everything vital. Even a headshot is risky—if he flinches, if I miss by a millimeter, she’s dead.
“I’ll do it!” He jams the gun harder against her temple, and she winces. “You think I won’t? I’ve killed a hundred people. One more won’t make a difference.”
“If you kill her, you’ve got nothing. No leverage. No way out.” I take a slow step forward. “Right now, she’s the only thing keeping you alive.”
“Stay back!”
I stop again.
Think. Think, goddammit.
The catwalk is narrow—maybe four feet wide, with a railing on one side and a twenty-foot drop to the main floor on the other. Caruso is backing toward the far end, where a door leads to what looks like an exterior fire escape. If he makes it through that door with Josie, we lose him.
I can’t let that happen.
“Dad,” Lee’s voice is low, barely audible over the chaos below. “Steel’s in position. Northeast corner. But he doesn’t have a shot yet. Not with Josie in the way.”
Steel.
If anyone can make this shot, it’s him.
But Caruso isn’t giving him an opening. He’s smart—keeping Josie’s body between himself and any possible sniper angle, never exposing more than a sliver of his head.
Unless someone forces him to move.
“Josie.” I keep my voice calm, steady, even though my heart is trying to beat out of my chest. “You trust me?”
Her eyes meet mine. Swollen, bloodied, terrified—but underneath all that, I see it. The fire that made me fall in love with her.
“Always,” she says.
I lower my gun.
Caruso blinks, confused. “What are you doing?”
“You want a hostage?” I spread my arms wide, making myself the biggest target possible. “Take me instead. I’m President of the Stoneheart MC. I know where the bodies and info is buried, Caruso.”
“Stone, no—” Josie starts.
“Hush, sweetheart.” I take a step forward. Then another. “Think about it, Vincent. You walk out of here with her, you’ve got a lawyer. You walk out of here with me, you’ve got the head of the organization that’s been destroying your operation. That’s leverage. That’s a fucking bargaining chip.”
I can see him calculating, weighing his options.
“Stop moving,” he orders.
I don’t stop. I keep walking, slow and steady, arms still spread. Every step brings me closer. Every step pulls his attention away from the rooftop across the street.
“You’re insane,” Caruso hisses.
“Probably.” I’m ten feet away now. Close enough to see the sweat beading on his forehead.
Close enough to see his finger tightening on the trigger.
“But I’m also the only chance you have of getting out of this alive.
The FBI has you. But they need my evidence.
I can get you out of the charges and out of the country, set you up somewhere without extradition. ”
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe.” I take another step. “But can you afford to take that chance?”
For a moment, nobody moves. The gunfire below has faded to sporadic bursts. The FBI is winning. Caruso’s operation is crumbling around him.
He makes his first mistake.
He shifts his aim from Josie to me.
Just for a second. Just long enough to point the gun at my chest, to scream something about how he’ll kill us both—
“DOWN!” I roar.
Josie drops.
She goes boneless, dead weight, slipping out of Caruso’s grip like water through fingers. He grabs for her, off-balance, his gun swinging wild—
The shot comes from nowhere.
One moment Caruso is standing. The next, his head snaps back, a red mist blooming in the air behind him. The fucker crumples like a puppet with cut strings.
I’m moving before his body hits the ground.
“Josie—”
She’s on her hands and knees, gasping, shaking. I drop beside her, pulling her into my arms, running my hands over her body checking for wounds.
“Are you hit? Josie, talk to me, are you—”
“I’m okay.” Her voice is hoarse, ragged. “I’m okay. I’m—” She looks up at me, and despite everything—the blood, the bruises, the chaos still raging around us—she manages a weak smile. “Took you long enough.”
A laugh tears out of me, half-relief, half-hysteria. “Fuck.”
I pull her in, crushing her to my chest. “You said two fucking minutes, Josie Bright.”
“I lied.” She reaches up, touching my face with trembling fingers. “Sorry.”
I kiss her.
It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s desperate and messy, tasting of blood and tears and the overwhelming relief of having her alive in my arms. She kisses me back just as fiercely, her zip-tied hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her lips. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“I know.” She’s crying now. “I knew you’d come.”
Behind us, Lee clears his throat.
“Hate to interrupt, but we should probably move. Building’s not secure yet.”
I pull back, cupping Josie’s face in my hands. Her beautiful, battered, perfect face.
“Can you walk?”
“I can do anything if it means getting out of here.”
I cut her zip ties with my knife, and help her to her feet. She sways, grabbing my arm for balance, but she stays upright. My woman. My fierce, stubborn, incredible woman.
Better get a cut on her back before some other fucker tries to take her from me.
“Steel?” I ask Lee as we move toward the stairs.
“He’s already breaking down his position.” Lee shakes his head. “Hell of a shot. Two hundred yards, through a broken window at a moving target with a partially obscured view. Brother has ice in his veins.”
He more than earned his patch tonight.
The main floor is mostly clear when we reach it. FBI agents are handcuffing prisoners, shouting commands, securing the scene. Pilkin spots us and jogs over, her expression tight.
“Ms. Bright.” She takes in Josie’s injuries, and her jaw clenches. “We need to get you medical attention.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re—”
“I’m alive.” Josie straightens, drawing on reserves I didn’t know she had. “Which is more than I can say for Caruso. I assume that was one of yours?”
Pilkin glances at me. “No.”
“Anonymous sniper?” I ask smoothly. “Must be a rival organization. These cartel types have a lot of enemies.”
Pilkin holds my gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nods.
“Rival organization. Of course.” She turns back to Josie. “The medics are outside. I strongly suggest you let them examine you.”
“After I give my statement.”
“Josie—” I start.
“I have information, Stone. Names, locations, details about his operation that I gathered while they were—” She swallows hard. “While they were questioning me. The FBI needs it while it’s still fresh.”
They tortured her for information, and she used it to gather intel on them.
God, I love this woman.
“Fifteen minutes,” I order. “Then the medics, non-negotiable.”
Josie nods, and Pilkin leads her toward a cluster of agents with tablets and recorders. I watch her go, this woman who walked into my clubhouse and turned my entire world upside down.
Lee appears at my shoulder.
“She’s something else,” he says.
“Yeah.” I can’t take my eyes off her. “She really is.”
“You going to marry her?”
The question catches me off guard. I turn to look at my son—he’s grown into a man I’m proud to call mine.
“Damn right, I fucking am.”
Lee grins. “About time, old man.”
I cuff him on the back of the head, but I’m smiling.
She’s alive. She’s safe. And as soon as this is over, I’m never letting her out of my sight again.