Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The summer air was heating up quickly, pricking Holly’s skin as she crouched in the shadows beside Izzy.
They’d been dragged by four MC members to an old livestock shed just off the edge of the fairgrounds and shoved inside.
Through the slats of the decrepit building they saw two bikers guarding the door, ignoring them.
The guards had even thrown her purse/medical bag into the shed, after checking it for weapons.
The stench of decayed animal droppings and mold burned Holly’s nose, and she sneezed three times.
She was also allergic to hay and hoped that wasn’t about to be an issue.
She should’ve learned her lesson from the last time she’d gone horseback riding and had ended up in the ER with hives—she really was an inside girl.
Except when it came to swimming in a river with Luke
“For some reason, we’re not their priority anymore,” Izzy whispered. “And when Hawk finds out about this, he’s going to be furious.”
Holly had no doubt that Luke would be too. “Maybe I should stick to delivering babies.”
Izzy snorted. “You think? And by the way, even if Daphne hadn’t shown up, you’d still be fired from bridesmaid duty.”
Holly couldn’t blame Izzy for being annoyed. This hadn’t been a well-thought-out plan. And she was blaming her poor judgment on the lack of her Louis Vuitton planner and all the stress she’d been under from the moment she’d walked into that rental car place at Dulles airport.
“Let’s just hope,” Holly whispered, “that they don’t discover those flash drives are fake.”
One of the biker’s radios crackled. “The flash drives are fake!”
Izzy lifted an eyebrow at Holly as if this was all her fault.
The guard cursed and walked away to speak into his radio. The second one moved toward the shed door, calling for backup.
Holly didn’t wait. She rummaged through her purse/medical bag until she pulled out a rectangular piece of plastic. Her ex-husband’s hotel keycard she been carrying around a talisman for no reason other than to torture herself.
She went to the door in the back of the shed and slid the card into the seam of the lock.
“You can’t be serious,” Izzy whispered. “That will never work.”
“This is just a regular door knob lock, and I bet this door leads into a back office.” Holly jimmied the card against the strike plate. “It’s just a normal handle…” she kept adjusting the card until the lock popped softly. “See?”
“That actually worked?” Izzy blinked. “Now what?”
Holly opened the door, only to find a dingy storeroom with no other exits.
“That window over the metal shelving bolted to the wall.” Izzy pointed to a narrow transom window covered in dust and spiderwebs. “We can climb the shelves, break the window, and get out that way.”
They heard the guards talking outside, near the door at the front of the shed. Then they heard gunshots.
“You go first. You’re the bride.” Holly darted back to the door they came through and jammed the keycard into the lock mechanism, snapping the edge of it into the frame so when it locked again, it couldn’t be opened from the other side.
She just hoped it would work long enough for them to get out through the window.
“C’mon.” Izzy was on the top shelf, kicking the window open. “We need to hurry.”
A few minutes later, they both dropped to the back side of the shed. Scraped, bruised, and ready to run.
“Let’s go,” Izzy gasped, breathless and wild-eyed, already tugging Holly away from the shed. “Before they notice.”
They sprinted across the field, ducking behind a rusted tractor and slipping through a gap in the chain-link fence that surrounded the fairgrounds.
“We need to circle behind the barn,” Holly said, scanning the fairgrounds. “We stay low, we stay quiet. Luke’s here. I know he is.”
“We need to get out of here,” Izzy insisted.
“Actually,” a man said from behind them. “You need to put your hands on your head and get on your knees.”
Holly and Izzy both raised their hands and turned to see a man in a black Kevlar vest printed with the white letters FBI, his rifle aimed at Holly’s head. “You’re both under arrest.”
* * *
Everything was happening too quickly, even for Luke’s adrenaline-trained nerves.
Grimm had discovered the flash drives weren’t real.
Then Agent Miller’s voice had shouted through the comms. “Now!”
Gunfire exploded from the tree line. A sniper round pinged off the Ferris wheel. FBI agents in tactical gear swarmed out of the woods. Shouts and screams filled the air as bikers scrambled for weapons, but they were too late.
Luke dove left, rolled behind a stack of old wooden pallets, and fired twice at Ripper who came after him with a knife. Ripper fell, screaming.
Another biker popped up from behind a rusted tilt-a-whirl and aimed at Kane.
Crack. Abe’s rifle from the ridge took him down.
“Two escaping east!” Trent shouted through comms. “They’re trying to get around the perimeter.”
Luke took off running, boots pounding across cracked pavement, weaving past broken-down booths and haunted-house props. He caught sight of a Black Jack running away and tackled him near the popcorn shack.
Fist met jaw. A gun clattered out of the man’s hand. Luke grabbed it, tossed it, then jammed his own pistol under the bastard’s chin.
“You done?” Luke growled.
The guy didn’t answer, just spit blood.
Footsteps thundered behind Luke. Kane and Gage arrived, weapons raised, breathing hard.
“All clear in the west,” Ben’s voice crackled. “Three down, four detained.”
“I’ve got one live,” Luke said, shoving the man forward. “Let’s give him to Miller.”
It took less than ten minutes for the whole scene to lock down. The Devil’s Renegades and Black Jacks were zip-tied and lined up against the grandstand. FBI agents moved like shadows, collecting evidence, weapons, scanning flash drives.
Luke stood off to the side, chest heaving, blood still humming.
Agent Miller approached, her black suit smudged with dirt, her expression unreadable. “Nice work,” she said, nodding to the men. “We got them all.”
“Anyone hurt?” Luke asked quickly.
“No agents. No civilians. One MC member critical. A few others wounded.”
“Let me through!” A female voice rang through the fairground and they all turned to see a woman in jeans and pink T-shirt running toward Ripper who was laid out on a stretcher.
Holly?
“Whoa.” Abe showed up next to Luke. “Did you know Holly was here?”
“Of course not.” He fisted his hands and scanned the area—until he noticed Izzy speaking to another FBI agent. “What are they both doing here?”
“Apparently,” Gage said as he walked toward them, brushing dirt off his T-shirt, “Izzy and Holly thought it would be a good idea to save us today.”
“What?” Luke shook his head, trying to tamp down his anger. “Why would they do that?”
“It seems,” Gage paused to take a bottle of water from a passing FBI agent, “that Holly felt like all of this was her fault and wanted to stop it before more violence happened.”
“Huh.” Jacob appeared, his arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his gaze. “I like it.”
“Well I don’t like it,” Luke said sharply. “She’s a doctor. Not a soldier.”
“She seems fine.” Trent came over, followed by Ben and Kane. “I mean, she’s a doctor but also a warrior.”
“Please don’t say that to her,” Luke said, taking a bottle of water from Ben. “I don’t want to encourage her.”
“Hey.” Kane touched Luke’s shoulder. “Look at her taking care of those men. Whether you wanted her here or not, she might be saving their lives.”
Ben snorted. “Hopefully so they can spend them in prison.”
“Come on, my twin.” Abe took Luke’s arm and they began walking toward the doctor who was applying a bandage to a Black Jack’s head. “Let’s go find your woman.”
And as the morning sun rose, and lit up the wreckage of the fairgrounds, Luke Mosby became clear about one thing: He was in love with Dr. Holly Westfield.