Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Beth wheezed. “It’s funny you think that’s how this is gonna go down.” She managed to squeeze the sentence out in one shallow breath.
Demo chuckled, but there was something almost like respect in it.
“A bitch ’til the end, huh? You know what I like about you, princess?
You remind me of my sister.” His boot pressed harder for one agonizing second.
“She had a mouth on her too. Never knew when to shut up.” The pressure eased just enough for her to gasp. “Didn’t end well for her either.”
His boot disappeared off her chest, and she sucked in an enormous greedy breath only to have it whooshed back out when he kicked her in the side with his steel toe.
She curled into a ball, coughing and dry heaving.
Demo strode away, but two sets of hands yanked her up and dropped her on the chair.
She still gasped for air as her diaphragm spasmed.
Someone jerked her arms behind her back, securing them with a zip tie, while another goon tied her legs to the chair.
Then they walked away, leaving her alone, struggling to breathe.
She coughed and spat blood onto the concrete. The red splatter against the gray floor was almost fascinating in a detached, shock-induced way.
Internal bleeding. That’s internal bleeding.
Her head dropped forward. For a long moment, the only thing she could do was focus on the simple act of breathing.
In. Out. In. Don’t pass out. Don’t give them the satisfaction.
Demo had to know she wouldn’t be of much use to him if she died.
Maybe she should stop antagonizing him and let him think he’d won.
Beth closed her eyes and let the fear wash over her. Thirty seconds. She’d give herself thirty seconds to fall apart.
Her hands shook. Her breath came in shallow gasps that made her damaged ribs scream. Tears leaked from beneath her closed lids, hot, shameful, and unstoppable. She thought of her dad. Of her mom. But mostly of Saint’s face when he’d said he loved her. Would she ever see any of them again?
Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.
Beth opened her eyes. It worked. Thirty seconds to freak out, and now she was angry.
Incensed.
Fuck fear. When she left Jason, she promised herself she’d never cower before another man, and she didn’t plan to start now.
Fuck Demo and fuck these other assholes.
The Handlers would come for her, and they’d rain down hell on these assholes.
BACK PROPPED AGAINST a huge oak tree, Saint stared at the sawmill through the woods. His assault rifle hung from a strap across his chest, ready to mow down anyone who tried to keep him from Beth. He bounced his heel and tapped a thumb against his leg to try to expel some anxious energy.
It didn’t work
If Copper didn’t give him the go-ahead to charge in the next two minutes, he was going in anyway. Fuck waiting and fuck the plan.
Zach strode over. He and Copper had taken point. They’d distributed weapons and were deciding where everyone would go. When Saint protested, Zach squeezed his shoulder and told him he was too close to the situation and too volatile to be in charge.
There was also the small matter of Copper kicking him out of the club.
“This shouldn’t be hard,” Zach said. He rested his palm on the tree near Saint’s head.
Saint nodded, not taking his eyes off the sawmill.
“They’re fucking amateurs. No cameras. No guards. Easy as fuck.”
“Maybe they’re just that cocky.”
Zach shrugged. “Either way, good for us.”
Saint nodded.
“Hey.”
He turned in Zach’s direction.
“Happy for you, brother.” Zach slapped his shoulder.
Saint arched an eyebrow.
“You and Beth. That’s a damn good fit.”
His system couldn’t handle another shock. At least this was a positive one. Saint cast a glance at Copper, then focused back on Zach, who chuckled.
“Give him time. He already feels like shit about what happened the other night. There are a lot of fucked-up thoughts tangled in his head. He’s never gotten over the guilt for what his brother did to Shell.
It’s always made him unreasonably protective of those two.
He sees you’re good for her. He just needs to admit it. ”
Saint grunted.
“Bring it in,” Copper called, waving everyone his way.
The fifteen or so of them who’d come to help gathered close.
“We go in loud, and we go in aggressive. Get everyone on the floor, face down. We’ll tie ’em up and leave ’em for the cops to deal with.
Only shoot to kill if you got no choice. We don’t need the heat right now.”
Murmurs of agreement went around his brothers.
“Okay, let’s roll,” Copper announced.
Fucking finally.
Saint kicked straight into action. He secured the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and marched forward alongside the other MC members. Zach stood at his left, Maverick at his right. Sweeping right and left, he scanned the distance between the woods and the sawmill.
Nothing.
No cameras, no one monitoring the building’s exterior.
Easy as fuck, like Zach said.
Saint reached the door first. He grabbed the handle and whispered, “Three… two… one.” Then he yanked it open and burst through. “Everyone on the fucking floor! Now!”
Chaos erupted. Workers scrambled from the tables, white powder scattering like snow. One guy reached for his waistband, and Maverick put him down hard, boot to the back of the knee, face to the concrete.
A gun went off somewhere to Saint’s left. Someone screamed. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Beth was in here somewhere, and nothing else mattered.
The rest of his brothers fanned out, taking guys to the ground while Saint’s gaze swept the warehouse.
Saint turned right, rifle at the ready, and stopped dead in his tracks. Beth sat, tied to a chair, tears in her eyes, staring at him. He dropped the gun and rushed to her, falling to his knees beside the chair.
“Baby,” he whispered, cupping her bruised face between his hands. He wanted to crush her to him in a fierce hug, but couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, but there was a wheeze quality to her voice.
She was most definitely not okay.
He was most definitely not okay.
He leaned in and brushed the gentlest of kisses across her swollen lips before resting his forehead on hers.
“Told them they were a bunch of stupid fuckers for thinking this plan would ever work,” she said with a weak chuckle.
“Jesus, Beth.” That explained the bruises. Demo sure as fuck wouldn’t have appreciated that.
“Sorry,” she said. Her laugh turned slightly hysterical. She was probably in shock. “You’re not in love with a delicate flower.”
“Fuck no, I’m not. I’m in love with a badass.”
She kissed him this time, wincing as she pressed her sore lips against his.
“Can… can you please cut me out of this chair?”
“Fuck yes.” He released her and grabbed his knife from its holster, slicing through the zip tie on her hands first. It was so goddamn tight, she hissed in pain as he tugged on the plastic. “Sorry, baby. Those fuckers put it too goddamn tight.”
“It’s okay. Just get it off.”
As soon as he freed her hands, he helped her bring her arms to the front of her body.
Beth did a good job hiding her pain. Someone who didn’t know her inside and out might buy her tough-as-nails routine, but Saint knew she was hurting.
He kissed her fingertips, afraid to touch the raw and bloody circle around her wrists or the ruined skin on her palms.
“Someone needs to find Melody,” Beth said as he cut the ties on her legs. “She was with me on the way here, but I don’t know what they did with her.”
“Okay, we’re on it.”
“Saint, she’s pretty fucked up. They beat her badly. I’m worried about her.”
Of course, she was. Beth was too fucking good. Too good for him, but she was stuck with him now.
“One of the guys will get her. I want you out of here… now.” He scooped her into his arms.
“Saint! I can walk,” Beth said as he started for the exit.
“Don’t care.” Maybe she could walk, but her breathing sounded off, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
She sighed and relaxed into his hold, resting her head on his chest. “What about Demo? I thought for sure you’d come charging in here on a mission to kill him.”
“I did.” He’d had every intention of killing that fucker. Still did, given the chance.
“So why didn’t you go after him?”
“Because you’re a million times more important.” One look at Beth and he knew where his priority lay. “I’ll get my chance with him.” He had no doubt one of his brothers would keep Demo on ice just for Saint. Unless, of course, he wasn’t allowed near the club.
Saint strode outside with Beth in his arms. She closed her eyes against the harsh sun. As he strode toward a truck one of the prospects drove over, his gaze met Copper’s.
The president’s gaze landed on his daughter’s swollen face, the blood on her lips, the way she curled into Saint as if she might shatter. His expression shifted from fury to something colder. Something lethal.
Demo was a dead man.
The only question was how slowly Copper would make it happen. And that was okay with Saint. As long as the man couldn’t go after Beth again, he’d accept the outcome, even if he couldn’t make the kill.
As he approached the truck, the prospect rushed to the passenger-side door to open it, and Saint tucked her into the seat.
“Hey, prospect.” He dug in his pocket for his keys. “My bike is with the others about half a mile away. See that it gets back to the clubhouse in one piece, or you’ll never fucking patch.”
The guy’s eyes widened. He took the keys, nodding like a bobblehead doll. “You got it, Saint. I’ll treat it better than I treat my own.”
He chuckled. “You’d better. It’s a hundred times nicer than your piece of shit.”
When he looked back at Beth, she was shaking her head at him with a weak grin.
Saint grew serious. “Tell me how you’re really feeling.”
“Pretty shitty. Um… he, Demo, knocked me on the floor and kicked me with his boots a few times.”
Saint’s jaw ticked. “Then we’re definitely going to the ER.”
“I don’t think I need that.”
He seared her with a look that scared men twice her size. “It’s non-negotiable.”
Beth rolled her eyes, then she frowned and grabbed the front of his shirt. “I was scared,” she whispered.
He leaned in, cupping her hips. “I was fucking terrified.”
“Thank you for saving me.”
“Any fucking time, baby. Though, please never again.”
She chuckled, but it turned into a groan. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
Yeah, first stop, emergency room.
“I fucking love you, Beth.”
“I love you too,” she whispered.
Saint kissed her forehead, then backed away. After he buckled her in, he shut the door and started for the driver’s side, where the prospect left the keys in the ignition. As he turned, he found Copper watching them with a pensive stare.
Instead of barging over, chasing Saint away, or demanding to talk to his daughter, he gave Saint a single nod.
Saint returned the gesture.
Approval?
Maybe not, but it was a first step.