Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Bryan
I shouldn’t be driving this fast.
Not through these streets. Not with my hands still twitching from the conversation with Drake. Not with my mind spiraling into every worst-case scenario that’s ever existed.
What the hell did she say to Tag? What did she want from him that she couldn’t ask me? Is she leaving? Did she ask for protection? Backing? Or worse— did she ask to disappear?
Every turn I take is too tight, every red light a personal offense. I’ve never felt this unhinged outside of a fight.
My jaw is clenched so tight my molars ache.
I don’t even realize I’ve white-knuckled the steering wheel until my fingers start to cramp.
The leather beneath my palms is slick with sweat, and I’m gripping so hard I can hear it creak.
Fuck, what if something’s wrong?
What if she’s?—
My phone rings.
I snap out of the spiral long enough to glance at the screen and see my brother’s name.
I hit answer with a grunt. “Hey, Finny. It’s not a good time. Can I call you back?”
“No. Don’t hang up.” Finn’s tone makes the hair on my arms stand on end. “You need to head over to the safe house where you put Harper.”
My heart stutters as I slam on my brakes. Tires screeching, I take a hard right and change direction. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I get a notification when anyone opens the front door. Somebody I don’t recognize pushed his way inside a few minutes ago. He left two goons on the porch and they look mobbed up.”
The knot in my chest tightens. “Who is it, Finn? Who the fuck is in that house with her?”
“I sent a snapshot of the image to your phone.”
I’m already driving like a maniac, and it won’t do Harper any good if I exit my hands free to see a picture. “Best guess, Finny. I’m driving here.”
“I’d guess the trouble from Liverpool followed you home, but I don’t know the players, so I can’t be sure.”
Fucking hell. Would Eddie Mason be so insanely stupid to come into our territory to cause trouble?
I suppose, from his perspective, that’s exactly what I did. And we slipped through his fingers and made him look like a schmuck.
“Motherfucker! Okay, Finn, I need you to text the image to Kieran. He saw all the same guys I did. And then, tell Sean to send the Devils. I won’t take any chances with Harper. I want the entire fucking city locked down.”
Another call beeps in and I glance to my nav screen. Harper’s name has my hand trembling as I reach to connect. “She’s calling me, Finn. Hold on.”
I’ve imagined her calling me a hundred times over the past weeks but not like this. I accept the incoming call. “Harper! What’s happening?”
“Bryan…” Her voice is part whisper and part sob on the other end of the line.
“Trouble, you need to talk to me. I’m two minutes away. What happened? Who’s there with you?”
“Eddie…” she whispers, breathless.
What the fuck with the whispering? “Are you safe?”
“No.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
I slam my hand against the dash as my heart seizes in my chest. “Is Eddie there with you now?”
“Bryan… they’re coming.”
“Hide, baby. I’m about to turn onto the street. I’m coming. Hang on. I’m coming.”
It goes against every protective instinct I have to hang up on her, but I need backup. “It is Eddie. Send backup, Finn. This is going to be a clusterfuck no matter how it plays out.”
“Sean is on his way with men from the clubhouse. Tag and Brenny, too.”
Good. That’s good .
When I can see the house in the distance, the first thing I notice is that there is no one on the porch. “Where are the two goons, Finny?”
“They went inside while you were talking to her.”
I’m going too fast to care about my tires howling as I rip onto the quiet residential street. There’s also no chance of slowing down to park.
Bouncing over the curb, I tear up half the front lawn and don’t bother shutting off the engine. Barreling out of my seat, I’ve got my gun poised and hit the front door at a full sprint.
It’s open. The house quiet.
I want to call out, to let Harper know I’m here, but I swallow the urge with everything I’ve got. There’s no element of surprise if I announce my arrival. And with a possible three against one, I’ll fare better with the element of surprise.
I push inside, the silence echoing like a gunshot in my skull. The place looks tidy, undisturbed. I rush through the main floor and find nothing. No sign of Harper.
I bolt up the stairs two at a time, my heart a battering ram behind my ribs. It beats to the rhythm of my panic, which is erratic and wild.
I need to get a grip.
Reining it in, I slow things down and move through the upstairs one room at a time. There’s a shattered picture frame on the floor down the hall.
The door to the main bedroom is hanging open…
And inside…
Fucking hell.
Eddie Mason is lying face-down on the hardwood, his head turned to the side, mouth slack, a pool of blood spreading out from beneath him like a morbid plasma puddle.
Pride surges through me like a drug.
Harper is a fighter.
“But where the fuck are you, trouble?”
My gaze snaps to the balcony. The French doors are open, one of them cracked along the frame like it was thrown back with force. A chill cuts through the room, and I rush to the threshold.
That’s when I see it.
Bloody handprints smeared around the door jamb and on the railing. Rushing to the edge of the balcony, I look down at the garage roof below.
I search the gritty shingles for any sign of what might’ve happened, but it’s impossible to see. Then I spot it, blood smeared all down the white downspout at the corner. That’s where she lowered herself down.
Fuck. Fuck.
The good news is she didn’t fall—she jumped.
Then she ran .
I scan the backyards in both directions but there’s no sign of her. Just the wind and the echo of motorcycles closing the distance.
“Harper!”
She’s alive. She has to be.
But she must be so scared. Bleeding. Alone. Running from men hunting her.
The throaty rumble of Harley engines getting close has me racing back downstairs to meet my brothers.
Tag is barking at someone to turn off my truck as he jogs up the front steps to the porch. Sean and Brenny are right behind him.
They take one look at me and are soldiers ready to go to war.
“What do you need?” Tag asks.
“She killed Eddie Mason. He’s upstairs.”
“And Harper?” Brenny asks.
“She went off the balcony and is running with two goons after her. I need the Devils.”
Sean holds up his keys. “You’ve got them. We’ve got this. You go.”
I leap off the porch and sprint across the lawn, straight toward Sean’s Harley. My boots thud against the grass, and every breath is a growl in my throat.
“We’ll find her,” Brenny says, mounting his bike.
I swing a leg over the bike and shout to the pack forming behind me—the Devils rolling up in a rumble of chrome and vengeance.
“My girl is running. She’s bleeding and being chased by two Mason men. Find her. Secure her. I want her home, lads.”
Frenchie adjusts his gloves, his massive shoulders flexing beneath his leather cut. “And the Mason men?”
“Whatever it takes,” I snarl.
“They made a move on one of us ,” Brendan bellows, gripping his bars. “ Take them down. ”
“Fucking right,” someone growls behind us.
Engines roar to life like wolves howling for blood.
The weight of Sean’s bike hums beneath me—heavy, solid, lethal. The pull of the engine matches the rhythm of my heart. I may be a thug and a killer, but thank fuck for that.
Right now, that’s who Harper needs me to be.
Brendan rolls up beside me, his face grim. “We’ll find her, brother. Keep it tight.”
I’m trying, but it might be a losing battle.
I tighten my grip on the throttle and tear off down the street, the Devils breaking off in every direction in a symphony of steel and fury.
Different streets, different angles, we comb the neighborhood, tightening the net around our prey. I lean low into the curves, eyes sharp, scanning every yard, every shadow, every goddamn bush for a glimpse of her—of blood, of movement, of anything.
People start poking their heads out of doors, curious or afraid. I wave them back inside with sharp jerks of my hand, not slowing down.
Don’t get involved. Don’t get caught in this.
This isn’t your fight.
It’s mine.
Harper’s blood is in the dirt somewhere, and I’ll burn this whole fucking neighborhood down before I let her bleed alone.
Kieran’s voice crackles in my ear through the comms in my helmet. “Backyards are clear on Green and Birch. Nothing.”
“I’ve got nothing either,” I grit out. “Keep going.”
It’s getting darker by the minute. Soon the streetlights and house lights will be the only way to see anything. I’m torn about that. The cover of night will be better for her but worse for us.
I glare into the shadows, the houses crowding in tighter, offering up nothing. We fly past trimmed hedges and wheelie bins, barking dogs, and the low hum of suburbia rising from the shock of our presence.
And then?—
Gunfire.
Two, maybe three shots, sharp and close—just a few streets over.
Brendan swears and I throttle down hard, the engine screaming as I surge forward, wind slapping at my face, rage boiling through my blood.
“ Who’s got her? ” I snarl. “Talk to me!”
I take the turn so fast my boot kisses pavement, and the world narrows to a single, burning thought:
I’m coming, trouble.
Hold on.