Chapter 5 Isaiah
ISAIAH
“Incoming.”
I was lying on my back on a creeper, ready to duck under a rig, but I stopped at Draven’s word.
He walked toward the parking lot. Dash, Emmett and Leo set their tools aside to follow. I hopped up and did the same.
How Draven had heard, I wasn’t sure, but the rumble of motorcycles drifted down the road, preceding a long line of bikes. The men riding them wore dark shades and matching black leather cuts.
Fuck.
The instant Dash spotted them, he rushed to the office door. “Bryce! Lock up. You and Pres get out of sight.”
My eyes shot up to the ceiling. Genevieve was upstairs baking cookies to soothe her broken heart. Stay put, doll.
She might get curious about the noise and come out, but I was betting she’d take one look at these men in the same style vest as the man who’d kidnapped her and be halfway back to Colorado before nightfall.
Leo walked to a tool bench. To an outsider, it didn’t look like he was in much of a hurry, but it was twice the speed of his normal stride. He pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked a drawer I hadn’t opened before—I didn’t have the key—and pulled out three pistols.
My stomach dropped. Not again. The last time there had been guns in this garage was the day we’d ridden into the mountains and my life had been turned upside down.
Leo tucked one gun into the waistband of his jeans, covering it with his T-shirt, and carried the others over, handing them off to Dash and Emmett behind their backs. Draven had hung around the garage after his conversation with Genevieve. He bent and pulled a pistol from his boot.
All I had was a goddamn three-eighths-inch wrench.
“I should have taken Bryce out of here,” Dash said. He normally didn’t work on Fridays, but after they’d come down to announce their engagement and the baby, he’d decided to spend a few hours with Emmett and Leo, designing the new custom project they’d be starting in a couple weeks.
He might not want to be here, but I was sure glad he was. There were a lot of Friday afternoons when it was only me finishing up for the day while Presley was in the garage. I wouldn’t have had a clue how to handle thirteen bikes pulling into the parking lot on my own.
The men parked in a long row, stretching the distance of all four shop doors and effectively blockading us into the shop. The only way to our own bikes, parked along the fence, was past them. Genevieve’s car and Presley’s Jeep, both parked in front of the office, weren’t an option either.
My skin crawled.
We were trapped.
The roar of the bikes was deafening. It echoed off the walls and floors, bouncing off concrete and metal. None of the men shut them down. They sat on them, their legs planted wide on the asphalt for balance, and stared at us, a wall of dark eyes and noise.
It was intimidating. Was that what this was about? Intimidation and fear? If the other guys were nervous, they didn’t let on. Dash and Emmett had their arms crossed over their chests. Leo had a hand in his pocket, casual like this happened every day. Draven looked bored.
I held perfectly still, every muscle in my body locked. The weak man in a group fidgeted. The weak man avoided eye contact and let his nerves get the better of his control. Which was why the weak man suffered first—a lesson I’d learned my first week in prison.
The standoff continued and my ears throbbed until, finally, the man astride the center bike held up his hand and the engines were turned off. Silence descended as the rumbling floated into the clouds.
The same man swung off his bike, rolling his shades into his hair.
Only three other men dismounted as the others remained on their seats.
Those four walked to Draven, offering no smile or friendly greeting.
Their guns weren’t tucked behind their backs or hidden under clothing.
They were holstered on hips and against ribs, the weapons on display for the world to see.
“Tucker.” Draven didn’t extend his hand to the leader. “You guys need some work done on your bikes? We’ll cut you a group discount for all thirteen.”
“Got some questions for you, Draven.”
“Did you lose my phone number?”
“Me and the guys wanted to get out. Pretty summer day. Haven’t been to Clifton Forge in a while. Forgot how nice it is this time of year.”
Draven cocked an eyebrow. One subtle gesture and Draven had control. Show up with thirteen men, he didn’t care. This was his territory. “Your questions?”
“A couple weekends back, we had some trouble at our property on Castle Creek. Asked around, put some feelers out and heard a rumor that some of your bikes were spotted heading in that direction at the time of the trouble.”
“A rumor?” Dash scoffed.
One of the other men lifted a shoulder. “Or traffic cameras.”
My heart stopped. If they knew we’d gone up there, what else did they know? When the fuck was I going to catch a break? I hadn’t thought much about who owned that cabin. I tried my best not to think about that cabin, period. Just my luck it had belonged to another motorcycle club.
“Heard you had a fire. Lightning, was it?” Draven asked.
“Investigator called this morning. Arson.”
“Bad luck.” Dash whistled. “Any idea who’d light it up?”
Sweat dripped down my coveralls.
Tucker leveled his gaze on Dash. “The Kings used to love lighting fires. Was it you?”
“Nope.”
“We have no reason to burn down an old cabin, Tucker,” Emmett said, his voice calm and steady.
“You sure?” Tucker shot back. “We’ve seen each other more in the past month than we have in a year. You guys keep asking questions about that woman’s murder. Maybe you didn’t believe me when I said we didn’t have shit to do with it.”
“We didn’t burn down your cabin,” Draven said. “We went up there because someone wearing your Warrior patch took my daughter and future daughter-in-law. Traced him up there. Went to get the girls. Didn’t set foot in that cabin. Sure as fuck didn’t burn it down.”
Tucker stepped closer to Draven. “One of my men was in that cabin. Now he’s dead and I want to know who killed him.”
Draven stood an inch taller than Tucker and he rose to his full height.
“It wasn’t us. We got the girls and got them the fuck out of there.
We tried to find the guy who took them but he vanished.
Like Emmett said, we have no reason to burn down your cabin or kill one of your men.
Because, after all, the guy who took the girls wasn’t your man, right?
Just like it wasn’t your man who killed that woman in the motel? ”
Damn, Draven was good. He’d pinned Tucker into a corner and the only way out was to back down or admit one of his men had kidnapped Bryce and Genevieve.
“I want answers,” Tucker demanded.
Leo scoffed. “Join the fucking club.”
“Listen, Tucker.” Dash held up his hands. “We don’t want trouble. But someone took my pregnant fiancée from her home. If it was one of your men, we’ll find out. And he’ll pay. But burning down your cabin doesn’t do anything for us. We’re not at war here.”
“We got history, Dash. Not a good one.”
“I get it.” Dash nodded. “You don’t trust us, and we don’t trust you. Do what you have to do to find out who killed your man, but I’m telling you, whatever trail you find won’t lead back here.”
Yes, it would.
Had we left a trail?
Tucker shot Draven and Dash a scowl, then turned and strode back to his bike. He started his first, the signal for the others to follow suit. Then as quickly as they’d come in, they were gone.
When the rumble from their pipes was no longer in the distance, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“Fuck.” Dash growled, raking a hand through his hair. “That’s just what we need, Tucker and his men thinking we’re out to get them.”
“What did he mean you used to love lighting fires?” I asked.
Emmett sighed. “We—the Kings—burned down their clubhouse a while back.”
Shit. No wonder they’d come here first after learning it was arson.
“I’m going to go check on Bryce and Presley.” Dash marched to the office door, banging on it and calling Bryce’s name. She opened it, wide-eyed, and slammed into his arms.
Dash tucked her into his side and they rejoined our huddle.
Presley followed close behind. He gave Bryce and Pres a recap of what had happened, not sparing them any details even though it was so closely linked to old club business.
Maybe Dash figured arming them with information was the best way to keep them safe.
Tucker and his men had only been here for about three minutes, but it had felt like hours.
And if they’d come once, they could come again.
“Everyone is careful,” Draven said, looking at Presley. “Everyone.”
“We thought there was a chance that the guy in that cabin was the kidnapper,” Dash said. “But if Tucker is telling the truth . . .”
“It wasn’t him,” Bryce answered, looking to Dash. “The man in that cabin wasn’t the one who kidnapped us.”
Relief coursed through my veins. Now that they knew the kidnapper was out there, they’d be careful. And Genevieve and I didn’t have to explain ourselves.
Yet.
“Tucker has sworn all along that it wasn’t the Warriors who killed Amina,” Emmett said. “It feels like the truth.”
“Agreed,” Draven muttered.
“This isn’t good.” Dash let loose an angry growl. “Things would have been easier if the guy in the cabin was our killer. But he’s still out there. Now we’ve got the Warriors sniffing around. Just what we don’t fucking need. Goddamn it, I’m mad I missed that bastard.”
When we’d gone to rescue Bryce and Genevieve, Dash had taken a shot at the man who’d been holding Genevieve captive. At the time, he’d been under the impression Genevieve was going to kill Bryce. Yeah, he’d missed the man in black.
But he’d also missed Genevieve.
“The fire.” Leo’s forehead furrowed. “Our guy must have gone back to the cabin and killed the Warrior. Burned the place down. Which means we and the Warriors have the same enemy.”