Chapter Twenty-Seven
Copper
B am! Bam!
I crawl through the broken hotel room window after crossing a courtyard from another room. She’s nowhere to be found. The gunfire makes me think one of my guys needs assistance. As soon I cross the room, I see two arms stretched out, aiming weapons at each other. Since one of them is feminine, I don’t dare shoot that person, but as I near the two, I realize the other person is familiar.
Fuck.
Stormy and Filter, facing off with guns pointing at each other.
“Don’t do this,” I beg to Filter. “Please.”
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
My heart shatters into a million pieces until I realize neither one of them has gone down. They slowly walk past each other, continuing to shoot. I peek out the door and realize they’re covering for each other. Joining them, I help pick off the few guys at one end. As soon as the hallway goes quiet, I loop an arm around Stormy’s waist and haul her to me.
Fiery blue eyes meet mine but then soften when she sees me, quickly filling with tears. Her face is badly cut and she’s filthy. I’ve never seen her look so beautiful because she’s alive. She’s fucking alive.
I crash my lips to hers, not even gentle of her wounds, just desperate to make sure she’s real and not some ghost meant to taunt me. Her salty tears join our kiss, giving this reality a familiar taste. A groan of relief escapes her as I kiss the fire out of her.
“You’re alive,” I mumble, pecking kisses over her cracked and dried lips.
“Not for long if you two keep making out in the hallway,” Filter grumbles. “This way.”
I want to drag Stormy into my arms and never let go, but she pulls away to steal two new guns from one of the dead men. My girl is a fighter. She’s no damsel. Filter’s right. I can worship her properly when we’re safe and alone. Now is not the time or we’ll never make it out of here.
“Where’s everyone else?” I ask as we stealthily make our way down the hallway.
“Dragon got them out, I think. I hope. We need to find them.” Stormy looks over her shoulder at me, giving me a watery smile.
I’m going to have words with Dragon as soon as this shit blows over.
“Stop,” Filter grunts. “Did you hear that?”
Sobbing. Calls for help.
Stormy turns toward a hotel room door and starts unengaging bolt locks. Once it’s open, she pushes inside. Fucking fearless, this woman.
Several battered and clearly traumatized people huddle together in one corner of the room. They all look just as fucked up as Stormy.
“Come on,” she hisses. “Stay quiet. We’re going to get you to safety.”
After eight shivering people make their way into the hallway, we set on our journey again. This time, Stormy begins checking each door. Not every room has captives, but some do. It’s enough that we’ve gathered about eighteen people, some of which who have to be practically carried by the other captives.
“Behind you,” Blake calls out. “Don’t shoot.”
I swivel around to find Blake, Gibson, and Bizzy making their way down the hallway with a few captives trailing with them.
“Everyone back that way has been killed and the rooms have been checked,” my son says, no longer sounding like a kid, but a fucking man instead. “The others have spread out on other hallways. We think we got most of them.”
After canvassing another couple of hallways, we also run into Halo, Payne, and some of the Little Rock guys. Eventually, we make our way back outside. People are everywhere, but it’s all our people and captives. Those trafficking motherfuckers are gone.
Koyn jumps up onto a vehicle and whistles, gaining everyone’s attention as they crowd around. Jameson’s woman—the same one who helped Katana—has arrived in a van, already seeing to the victims who are in the worst shape. I’m thankful as fuck it’s not my girl needing care.
“Brenda,” a soft, broken masculine voice calls out, before a young mirrored version of Calla nearly tackles her. “I’m so sorry.”
She hugs her brother, whispering assurances. “It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re all okay. I love you, Cove. You’re safe now.”
Calla clings to them and my heart aches for what they went through. I’m thankful they’re safe and back together. Filter watches them with an unreadable expression. As long as it’s not hate, I can deal with that.
“We took out most of these motherfuckers,” Koyn calls out. “A few escaped, but we’ll get them. Mark my words. The important thing is, we’ve found the captives and they’ll be safe now.”
I scan the crowd looking for Dragon. Still missing.
“These people can’t go back to normal society. Not after this shit,” Koyn grinds out. “Which is why we’re going to help them. Get them back on their feet and then see how shit pans out. Anyone who wants to go home to their families, we’ll get you there. But…”
Dragon had plenty of chances to reunite with his family, but chose to become a Royal Bastard instead, giving up his past and becoming the man he’d been changed into. It wouldn’t be a surprise if many of these people felt the same given the horrors they’ve gone through.
“Jameson and Rage are taking the badly injured with them. Doc here can make sure they’re stable. Scorn will take anyone by plane back to Louisiana. The rest will come with us,” Koyn says. “Those who opt to go back into society, Dan Greene with the FBI will assist in those efforts. Good luck and I’m fucking sorry you people had to go through this shit.”
The crowd breaks up at that point. I want to drag Stormy into my arms and hold her, but she’s still in protective mode over her younger siblings. It isn’t until Bizzy helps the twins into the van that all the fire is snuffed out of my girl. Like a good man, I’m there to gather her in my arms, holding her together.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers as I rub a palm over her flat belly that will soon swell with my child. “I gave you such shit about being dirty. You guys were always good. At least where it counts. I fucked up.”
“Nah, little storm, you just wreaked some havoc just so you could plow right into my arms. I’m not complaining how you got there. Just thanking God that you are.”
She starts to cry and laugh at the same time. “Careful. Gibson will turn those lines into a country song.”
“Damn straight,” Gibson says, grinning our way as he passes. And then the swoony-ass motherfucker sings my lines back to my woman in his voice that apparently makes the Barnyard Belles want to have his baby.
“Go on with your bullshit,” I grumble playfully.
He laughs until Koyn strides up to us. I tense at the unusual expression on his face.
“They got away,” he says, his dark eyes glinting in an evil way.
“Who?”
“Night Giant, Vidal, and Press.” Each name Koyn delivers makes Stormy flinch.
“Press?” she asks.
“Cypress Collins,” I explain, briefing her on this new tidbit, “is a pseudonym for Colin Press.”
“We have to find them,” Stormy whines. “Night Giant will—”
“He won’t,” Koyn assures her. “He won’t touch another hair on Dragon’s goddamn head.”
She relaxes and nods. “Which means you have eyes on them?”
“They’re being followed,” Koyn confirms.
“This wasn’t their only operation,” I say, understanding the point of all this. “They’re going to lead us to the rest.”
“And then what?” Stormy asks.
“Then they’ll get some motherfucking justice the Koynakov way.”
Rather than flinching from his words, she nods. “Good. I hope it hurts.”
It’s morning by the time we roll up to Koyn’s. Stormy slept the whole drive back, pressed to my side. I still can’t figure out who Dragon caught a ride with. I’ll eventually need to get back to my house and to my dogs, but for now, we need to crash soon.
“The clubhouse is good enough to take in some of these people,” Filter says from the front seat. “Gibson, Bizzy, and Nees offered to stay with them and protect them.”
Months ago, I would’ve questioned the abilities of those three, including my son, but not anymore. They’re all capable badass bikers and it makes me proud.
“The twins will come home with us,” I tell them as we climb out. Filter shoots me an annoyed glare but quickly schools it before I can figure why.
“And Erin,” Stormy croaks out sleepily. “She comes with us too.”
“Fine,” Filter grunts. “The other eight can go to the clubhouse. We’ll take care of them.”
I scan our group who are all exiting vehicles or climbing off bikes, looking for Dragon. Still missing. What the hell?
“Hey,” Stormy says, cupping my cheeks and turning my attention to her ruined face. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I know…” Her eyes water. “I know you must have seen the video… It’s just…please don’t hurt him. It’s complicated, but we were in survival mode. We had to do what we had to do.”
I study her face, taking in every bruise and cut. “I know, little storm. If you’re worried, don’t be. I love you. All I care about is getting you in the shower and into bed so I can hold you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I give her a soft kiss on her forehead. “Get the twins and Erin settled in the two guest rooms downstairs and then meet me in your old room.”
As soon as she disappears into the house with them, someone grabs me and shoves me against the side of a vehicle. Green, wild eyes bore into me.
“Looking for me?” he snarls, pressing a knife to the side of my throat.
A wounded Katana lingers not far behind, making no moves to stop Dragon.
“Actually, yeah,” I grunt out.
“To kill me?” His eyes flash with pain. “Because I deserve it?”
“I’m not going to kill you, dumbass. You’re a fucking victim. I’ve been doing this job long enough to understand that.” I grab his hand with the knife and shove it down. “Besides, Stormy would never let me hear the end of it if I did. You know how mouthy she can be.”
His lips twitch with a smile. “She’s one tough bitch.”
“Fuck yeah she is, but…” I trail off and pin him with a hard stare. “Her siblings aren’t. They’re one of us now.”
“I got the littles’ backs. Don’t worry, old man.”
I pull him to me for a quick hug before he tugs away and disappears with Katana. Filter’s stare is locked on me, but it’s missing the usual venom.
“I’m not going to give her any more shit,” Filter says as I approach. “We’re good.”
“Just like that?”
He shrugs. “We had a chat.”
I’m not sure when this chat took place, but I’m happy anyway.
“All right then. I’m going to hit the sack.” I tip my head at him and then walk inside.
By the time I make it to Stormy’s old room, she’s already stripping out of her clothes. Her body is battered and she’s wrecked, but she’s still beautiful and strong and mine. I shed my clothes and follow her into the shower. It’s not until the steam fills the air and the hot spray is raining down on her that she finally breaks.
Unravels.
Shatters.
Allows the events to finally catch up with her.
Gently, I wash her abused body, cleansing her everywhere, and kiss away any pains that I can. The ones on her heart will be the hardest, but I’ll spend every goddamn day trying.
“Little storm?” I ask once she’s clean and no longer sobbing.
“Hmm?”
“You’re a hero. You helped save those people, including your siblings.”
Her lip trembles. “I don’t feel like a hero.”
“Maybe not, but you sure as hell look like one.”