Chapter 12
12
PHOENIX
T he warehouse was a forgotten skeleton of rust and shadows. The parking lot held plenty of vehicles, but it somehow still felt empty. They’d done a good job of picking somewhere isolated.
I clocked the muscle at the door as I approached. His eyes snagged on the Iron Rogues patch on my cut, and his posture shifted nervously. Then his spine straightened, chin tilting up with false bravado. But his eyes gave away his uncertainty, as though he wasn’t sure if he should let me in or run for backup.
Smart bastard.
However, he didn’t say anything and just opened the gate to let me inside.
The wide-open space was made of stained concrete, exposed steel beams, and a few overhead fluorescents flickering like they were seconds from dying. The air reeked of sweat and stale cigars, the smoke swirling in the air and adding to the haze caused by the shitty lighting. There was also a thick undercurrent of desperation.
The poker tables were set up in the middle of the floor, ringed by metal chairs that were occupied by every kind of lowlife you could imagine—ex-cons, dirty businessmen, dealers with twitchy eyes and guns tucked under their jackets.
More muscle patrolled the room, armed and threatening, making it clear that anyone who caused trouble would be dealt with in a way that would most likely involve pain and screaming. When I walked in, each one who looked my way had a similar reaction to the guy at the door. They took in my cut with the kind of hesitation that said they weren’t sure if this was a warning shot from the club or I was just a biker who liked cards. Either way, they didn’t want to make the wrong call, so no one stopped me from taking an empty chair.
I played a few rounds at one of the main tables, quiet and steady. Winning one and losing two, keeping my demeanor blank. Calm. Non-threatening. As much as I could be, considering my already intimidating stature and being an Iron Rogue. I was just another guy playing cards on a Saturday night. The others at the table kept glancing at my cut, trying to figure out if I was up to something, but I didn’t give them anything.
Until Lindsay walked in.
My blood turned to ice and fire all at once. Son of a fucking bitch!
She wore my shirt under my spare cut, had her hair pulled up in a messy bun, and walked with her chin high. She looked every bit the confident woman who belonged to a ruthless biker. Every man in the room noticed her the second she stepped through the door, and my fingers itched to reach for my gun. I hated that any of these sleazy fuckers were looking at her, probably picturing my woman naked. But I somehow forced myself to remain composed.
What the fuck was she doing here?
Lindsay moved with a cool grace, like someone who knew she belonged anywhere she was. There was also that sweet sass in her step as she walked straight toward me, stopping at my side and pressing a kiss to my jaw like we hadn’t just argued over this exact scenario. Clearly, her ass wasn’t stinging enough from the last warning I’d given her.
“Hey,” she purred, her voice teasing. “Sorry I’m late.”
I stood and slid my hand around her wrist, tugging her flush against my chest. I let my fingers trail down her spine as I kissed her, making sure there was no mistaking who she belonged to. Then I bent to whisper in her ear. My voice was low and sharp as a blade when I hissed, “You won’t be able to sit for a week after the spanking I’m gonna give you—for disobeying. For scaring the hell out of me by putting yourself in danger. I’m gonna light that pretty ass up until you’re soaked and sobbing, and then I’m gonna fuck you so deep you’ll feel me every time you breathe.”
Her eyes went wide, and her cheeks flushed pink. But to her credit, she didn’t miss a beat. Just gave me a coy little smile and perched herself on the arm of my chair as though she hadn’t just signed her own death warrant.
I should’ve marched her out right then and there. But if I made a scene, we could blow up the whole plan. So I bit my tongue and sat back down.
With her subtle cues—nails tapping once, twice, then dragging on my shoulder—I started raking in the wins. Five hands in a row, cleaning out one guy. Then another. With each win, the dealer’s lips thinned. Eventually, I spotted two men near the exit, hands at their sides, whispering to each other while stealing glances at Lindsay.
Fuck.
They weren’t watching me.
They were watching her.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I couldn’t fucking believe I didn’t think about them recognizing her. My worry for her had distracted me, which was another reason I’d been so adamant that she stay away from the game.
One of the goons slipped away through a side door, and less than five minutes later, the other one came over to us. “Boss wants a word.”
I leaned back casually. “We done playing?”
He didn’t answer. Just nodded at two meatheads who were now approaching from behind him.
“She stays here,” I said, still mild but with a thread of steel in my tone.
The bigger one, with a scar down his cheek and a jaw like a bulldog, shook his head. “Both of you. Now.”
Lindsay tensed, but I gave her a quick squeeze at the waist as I stood. “Let’s go.”
We were led down a dark hallway and into a back office that looked more like a set from a mob movie than real life. The man behind the desk was huge, with dark beady eyes, a crooked nose, and a gold chain stretched tight over his thick neck. A pistol lay on the table in front of him, as though he wanted to make a point the loud way.
He didn’t bother standing and eyed Lindsay with curiosity that made my fists twitch.
“Guess Paul’s outta the picture, and you’ve already moved on. Good for you, sweetheart. Shame about the coma. Doesn’t seem like you were together long, so I imagine he thought he’d cash in and maybe finally get a taste.” He sneered, licking his teeth. “Course, cheating voids the winnings…but not the debt. That’s yours now. One way or another.”
His hungry eyes raked over her body, lingering on her tits and making it hard for me to keep from lunging across the desk and rip his throat out.
Lindsay blinked. “I don’t—wait. Paul?” She cringed. “No. I’ve never…he was the manager of the Juniper Grove, where I volunteer. That’s all. I barely know him.”
He snorted. “That why you were at the hospital?”
“Yes, to tell him that we found out he was stealing from the center. Not for anything else,” she said, disgust coloring her tone.
The boss looked at me then, his eyes cold. “And you? You walk in here like you own the room. As if you’ve got nothing to prove and nothing to lose. That’s not how gamblers act. That’s how sharks circle. It can only be one of two things—either you’re cheating or you’re sending a message. And I don’t like either one.”
I didn’t speak, just continued to stare him down in silence.
“So here’s how it’s gonna go,” he continued, his voice like gravel over broken glass. “You’re gonna forget about your winnings. You’re gonna disappear. But first, someone’s gonna pay me what I’m owed. Since Paul’s out cold, and this girl is on your arm now, that someone is you.”
Lindsay shuffled closer to me, and I slipped my arm around her, resting my hand on her hip and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t give a fuck how you get it. You’re the money guy, right? Treasurer for the Iron Rogues? Steal it from your club if you have to. But you’ve got two hours to come up with it.” He jerked his chin toward Lindsay. “We’ll hang on to your girl in the meantime. Call it insurance.”
I went still, and the air in the room dropped several degrees.
“And if I don’t?” I asked, voice low and flat.
He smirked. “Then she stays. As payment.”
His eyes raked over Lindsay’s body, slow and greasy. “She looks like a fighter, but they all beg eventually.”
He leaned back and waved one of his goons forward. The guy reached for Lindsay, grabbing her arm as though he was about to yank her away.
That was when I moved.
I slammed my forearm into the bastard’s throat, sending him crashing into the bookshelf behind him. Then I pulled my Glock and pressed it to the skull of the other asshole who’d made a move toward my woman.
“You touch her again,” I growled, low and lethal, “and I will decorate this whole fucking room with your brains.”
The boss slammed his chair back against the wall as he jumped to his feet. His eyes wide and furious. “You think you can threaten me? You think one MC pussy gets to come in here and make demands?”
My smile was pure ice. “Shoulda thought twice about running games in Iron Rogues’ territory without permission. And thought even harder before you threatened my woman.”
He laughed. “So what? What are you gonna do about it, motherfucker? You’re outnumbered. Outgunned. You walked in here with no backup and think I’m supposed to be scared?”
Everything paused when shouting started outside the room.
Then there was a bang. And another before the door burst open.
Fox sauntered in first, calm as hell. Maverick and Savage flanked him, both holding suppressed weapons with casual ease.
The guy I’d flattened was back on his feet, and he rushed over, grabbing Lindsay and spinning her around before putting a gun to her head.
Fox didn’t flinch. He just raised a brow.
“Suggest you let her go,” Fox drawled. “Or they’ll be digging your teeth out of the floorboards.”
The boss snarled, shoving his desk aside and pointing a pistol at my chest. “You think I won’t do it? Get the fuck out before I put your accountant in the ground.”
Fox chuckled, slow and deadly as he walked over to stand just beside the fucker’s desk. “Really don’t get it, do you?” He looked at Lindsay, then back at the boss. “You don’t see the storm you just stepped into. Bastards who touch what’s not theirs—especially when it belongs to an Iron Rogue—have issued their own death sentence.”
Maverick smirked and added, “And you’ve seriously underestimated what Phoenix is capable of.”
My eyes locked with Lindsay’s, and when she nodded, I took that moment of distraction to move. She ducked, fast and smooth, and I shot the bastard behind her in the shoulder. He screamed and dropped the gun as he staggered backward. Then I rushed forward and cracked the guy’s skull against the wall with the butt of my weapon.
At the same time, Fox had stepped toward the boss and slammed the guy’s face into the table with one fluid motion as he disarmed him.
Savage had dropped the last guy before he could aim.
And Maverick had grabbed the guy who’d rushed into the room, breaking his neck with ease, before tossing him to the ground.
The whole thing took under five seconds.
Brutal, but efficient.
Maverick appeared at my side, watching me, waiting for permission. I was reluctant to let Lindsay go, but I didn’t want her seeing what happened next. I nodded, and he took her elbow, turning her toward the door. She opened her mouth to argue but shut it when she saw the look on my face.
Once she was gone from the room, Fox squeezed the back of the boss’s neck and pulled him up, the barrel of his gun digging into the shithead’s back.
The boss’s nose was spurting blood, clearly broken, and from the look of it, his right cheekbone was shattered.
I pointed my Glock at his forehead and growled, “You’re not gonna like what comes next.”
Savage snorted a laugh. “No one ever does.”
Aiming my gun again, I pulled the trigger, putting a bullet right between his legs. The pussy screamed like a little girl, tears running down his face as he begged me to let him go.
“Nobody fucks with an Iron Rogue, motherfucker,” Fox snarled.
The next shot was straight through the heart.
I didn’t wait for anything else before I spun around and made a beeline out the door. Once I was in the mostly empty front room—with the exception of a few other Rogues—I spotted my woman near the front entrance. She was pacing anxiously, her hands rubbing her arms for warmth.
I stalked over and pulled Lindsay against me. Her breath hitched as she buried her face against my chest.
“Go,” Maverick murmured. “Got this handled.”
I lifted my chin in thanks, then moved Lindsay to my side, keeping her plastered up against me.
“Let’s go. Before I put another bullet in someone else.” I growled, dragging her out of the room and into the lot where our bikes and the club’s backup vehicles were parked.
Lindsay tried to speak as we approached my hog, but I cut her off with a glare.
She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “Your apology won’t take away the fear I felt seeing a gun to your head.”
“I know?—”
“And it sure as hell won’t save you from the permanent handprint I’m gonna leave on your pretty little ass.”
She didn’t argue.
Smart girl.
I put my helmet on her head, then scooped her up and deposited her onto the back of my bike.
As we rode back to the compound, my blood was still boiling, my hands shaking. I didn’t know how long it was gonna take before I stopped imagining every worst-case scenario that could have played out.
But I was gonna fuck my girl deep and hard, over and over, until I was convinced that she was safe in my arms.