CHAPTER EIGHT
DECLAN
Three hours later, my brothers and I gather in the weathered meeting room of our MC. The heavy leather chairs creak beneath them as they sit, but I can’t bring myself to stay still. I pace the floor, gripping my switchblade so tightly my knuckles turn white.
Mickey hunches over his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard. We’re all waiting for him to find something—anything—that will lead us to her.
“Declan, we’ll get her back,” Hassle says from his chair, his voice steady.
“We have to,” I mutter.
Joe leans back, his British accent cutting through the tension. “Like we discussed, our brother here is in love.”
Joe splits his time between Delaware and London, but no matter where he is, he’s one of us. All my brothers are. We ride for each other, no questions asked.
I remember staring into her eyes earlier before we left the house. “Do you trust me?”
She batted those long lashes. “Yes.”
Mickey glances up from his laptop. “I found them.”
Thank goodness I put a tracker in the tag of her panties.
I stop pacing. “Good. Grab your weapons. I’m going to make that motherfucker scream,” I growl.
An hour later, the rumble of our bikes echoes through the empty streets as we approach a warehouse park. We cut our engines. It’s late, and the streets are quiet—no prying eyes.
We park out of sight, away from the building Mickey traced them to. Gone are the tuxedos; we’re back in our boots, jeans, flannel shirts, and our club jackets.
“I’ll take the front. You guys go in from the back,” I say, my voice firm.
“Be careful, brother,” Hassle says, clapping a gloved hand on my shoulder.
The others nod, their eyes filled with silent concern. They know what Meridea means to me.
Being a military man has its perks. I’m able to provide the element of surprise. And startle the shit out of my enemies.
I plant C-four under an SUV parked nearby and press down on the hood to set off its alarm. The blaring noise shatters the silence, drawing attention.
I run to the front of the building and plaster my back against the cold brick structure.
“The alarm is going off,” I hear someone say from the inside.
“It’s probably nothing,” another says.
My heart rams against my ribcage as I raise my hand and tap my gloved knuckles on the heavy door.
Silence.
They want to play. Let’s play.
I slap C four on the door, step back, and press both detonators.
The ground rumbles. The SUV shoots up in a ball of flames as the front door of the warehouse flies off its hinges. I peer through the scope of my AR-fifteen and enter the warehouse. The duffel bag crossing my body is filled with explosives and guns.
“What the fuck?” One of them shouts.
“Drop your fucking weapons,” I roar.
They all stand around Meridea, their guns drawn and pointed at her bound form in the center of the warehouse. She looks up at me with wide eyes.
“I’m here for my woman,” I snarl.
Glenn’s face turns crimson with rage. “What the fuck is going on?”
“You said you just met the guy.” The back of Glenns hand flies across her cheek.
“Don’t lay another fucking hand on my woman. She’s carrying my child,” I shout.
Her eyes widen. “What?”
She doesn’t believe me—not yet—but there’s no time for explanations.
Glenn levels his weapon at me, his hands steady.
“I’m a trained soldier,” I warn him. “I wouldn’t try that.”
But his finger tightens on the trigger.
“Drop your weapons,” my brothers’ voices command from behind Glenn and his crew.
One of the men shifts his aim, pointing his gun directly at Meridea’s head.
“Monty, you don’t want to do this,” she says through clenched teeth, her voice unwavering despite the danger.
“If you hurt her, I’ll make you suffer for days instead of hours,” I growl, my voice cold and lethal.
“You hate me that much, huh?” Meridea taunts, her tone sharp, baiting him.
“Yes,” he spits, his hand trembling as he points the gun at her. It’s clear now—Monty wanted Meridea for himself, and his bitterness fuels his rage.
I don’t wait. My shot finds its mark, shattering the gun from Monty’s hand. The weapon clatters to the concrete floor as he screams, clutching his bloody hand.
Then chaos erupts.
Shots ring out wildly from across the room. Meridea said there were five of them. They must’ve enlisted assistance from their sick following. A bullet strikes my abdomen.
“No,” Meridea cries out.
I don’t let it slow me down as I dive onto Meridea, bringing the chair down to the right.
Gunfire echoes all around us, the metallic smell of blood thick in the air. I can’t let her—or the tiny life growing inside her—get hurt.
Reaching down, I pull the switchblade from my boot and slice through the zip ties binding her wrists and ankles. The second she’s free, Meridea grabs the Glock from my waist holster and levels it at Glenn.
“You fucking asshole,” she roars, pulling the trigger. The shots hit true—one to his shoulder, another to his leg.
Glenn crumples to the floor, screaming in pain.
“Darlin’, we’ve got to get you out of here,” I groan, the adrenaline keeping me moving as my vision blurs.
“No,” she says, shaking her head fiercely. “I’m not leaving you.”
I collapse to the side, my body giving out as the world spins. My brothers have taken control of the room, handling the remaining threats. I hear their shouts and the thunder of gunfire, but my focus stays on her.
Meridea drops beside me, her hands cupping my face. “Stay with me,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”
“I—I love you,” I whisper, the words slipping from my lips before darkness claims me.