Chapter Twenty-Three
Spike
The roar of my bike is deafening, but it’s not enough to drown out the blood pounding in my ears.
They took her.
They took my son.
Tank’s voice still echoes in my head, rough and furious but controlled in a way that tells me just how bad this shit is. Cops came in with drawn weapons. Chuck had a warrant. Riley’s been arrested. They took Asher.
I twist the throttle harder, pushing my bike faster, barely aware of the road beneath me. Bones is right behind me, his headlight glaring in my side mirror, but I don’t slow down.
They took my fucking family.
My hands clench the handlebars so tight I’m surprised they don’t snap off. I can’t think about Riley being locked up in some cold cell, scared and alone. I can’t think about my son – my fucking son – being in Chuck’s hands.
That sick fuck probably planned this from the beginning. He couldn’t get to Riley with his bullshit threats, so he used the goddamn system to rip Asher away from us.
A growl builds in my chest, low and dangerous.
The cops might’ve had the authority to take them. But I have the power to take them back.
I cut through town recklessly, barely stopping at lights, barely acknowledging the cars that blare their horns as I weave past them. The station comes into view, a squat, ugly brick building that’s about to become a fucking warzone.
I rip into the parking lot, my tires screeching as I come to a sharp stop. Before my kickstand is even down, I’m off the bike and stalking toward the entrance. Bones is right behind me, silent, a storm brewing in his eyes.
The second I step inside, all heads turn.
Some of the officers shift uncomfortably, eyes darting toward the front desk. Others straighten, like they already know who the fuck I am, and don’t want to deal with me.
Too fucking bad.
I slam my hands down on the counter so hard the desk sergeant flinches. “Where the fuck is Riley Hayes?” I snarl.
The guy behind the desk, some pudgy officer with a coffee-stained uniform, blinks up at me like I just kicked his dog. “And you are?”
My vision goes red. “You know damn well who I am,” I growl. “Ethan ‘Spike’ Turner. President of the Iron Shadows. The real father of the baby you just fucking kidnapped and man of the woman you brutally took from my fucking home.”
The guy has the nerve to sit back like he’s unimpressed. “Ms. Hayes has been charged with kidnapping. The child was returned to his legal guardian.”
Legal guardian.
Legal guardian?!
I lunge.
Bones’ hand clamps onto my shoulder, stopping me before I can rip this guy across the desk. His grip is firm, steady, the only thing keeping me from committing a felony.
“Where. Is. She?” My voice is low now, more dangerous than when I was yelling.
The officer shifts in his chair, suddenly less confident. “She’s in holding. Being processed. No visitors allowed.”
I smile. It’s not friendly. “We’ll see about that.”
The doors behind me burst open, and in walks the last person I need to see right now.
Chuck.
And he’s holding my son.
He strolls in like he owns the place, that smug fucking smirk on his face, Asher tucked in his arms like a goddamn prize. The sight of him holding my son makes my entire body go tight with rage.
“Ah, Spike,” Chuck drawls, rocking Asher slightly. “Didn’t expect you so soon. I figured you’d be too busy dealing with the mess I left at your compound.”
I take a slow, dangerous step forward. “Give me my son.”
Chuck tuts, shifting Asher just enough so I can see his tiny, confused face. “ My son,” he corrects, his smirk widening. “And according to the law, he’s right where he belongs.”
All I see is red .
“Who the fuck are you?” Chuck snarls, glaring at someone over my shoulder.
The man steps forward, calm and composed, radiating the kind of authority that makes people listen. His suit is crisp, his expression unreadable. But his words? They cut like a blade.
“Zane Foster,” he says smoothly. “Attorney representing Ethan and Riley Turner. I have here the official documentation stating that Riley Hayes Turner and Ethan ‘Spike’ Turner are the legal guardians of Asher Turner.”
Chuck’s face twists in fury. “What?” he barks. “His name is Asher Landry . And I’m his damn father.”
Foster barely blinks. “Incorrect. Two months ago, Ms. Hayes was granted full custody of Asher Turner… formerly Asher Landry. Three weeks later, Ethan Turner legally adopted him right after he and Riley married. Their names have been updated accordingly in all official records. I have the notarized documents right here, including the one in which you, Mr. Landry, voluntarily signed away your parental rights.”
Chuck’s nostrils flare as he snatches the papers from the officer who just finished reviewing them. He flips through, his eyes darting over the legal jargon, before landing on the signature line. His face turns an ugly shade of red.
“This… this looks like my signature, but I never signed anything,” he growls.
Foster doesn’t even flinch. “These are original, court-filed documents, not copies. If you’d like to contest their validity, you are free to request an independent forensic analysis.” His tone remains even, professional. But there’s an edge to it. A warning.
Chuck glares at the officer. “You better have them checked.”
The officer nods, but before he can speak, Foster continues, his voice firm. “Additionally, I am prepared to testify under oath that I was present at the time of signing. If necessary, I can also provide video evidence verifying Mr. Landry’s consent.”
Chuck’s mouth opens, then snaps shut. His fury boils over, his entire body shaking as he lets out a strangled, rage-filled scream.
Asher startles in his arms, his tiny face scrunching up before he wails in fear.
And that?
That’s the final fucking straw.
“Give. Me. My. Fucking. Son.”
Chuck just stares at me, his smug expression faltering for a split second. But before he can respond, a voice cuts through the tension.
“Give the kid back to his father, now, Charles.”
A new figure steps into the room, a sharp-looking man with a commanding presence.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Chuck mutters, still holding Asher, his voice tinged with desperation.
The man doesn’t even blink at Chuck’s outburst. “Mr. Foster faxed a copy of his documents ahead of time, and I’ve already verified their legitimacy.” He turns to me, offering a brief but sincere nod. “My name is Ronald Blevins. I’m the Attorney General of Palm Springs. If I had all the information earlier, I would not have subpoenaed for a warrant. My apologies, Mr. Turner. Please, take your son and go home.”
I’m still shaking with barely controlled rage, but my focus shifts. I move closer, finally reaching out for Asher. The second I hold him in my arms, all that anger boils over and fades into a raw, protective instinct.
But then one question arises, sharp and urgent. “What about my wife?”
Blevins doesn’t hesitate, but there’s a flicker of regret in his eyes. “Unfortunately, she will need to be processed. Regardless of the latest developments, your wife will remain with us until tomorrow morning, when I can get a judge to sign off on her release.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
“No,” I growl, my voice thick with anger. “You’re telling me you’re keeping her in there tonight? Where that bastard has access to her?”
Blevins shifts uncomfortably as if he knows exactly where my mind is going, but the facts are the facts. “It’s procedure, Mr. Turner. I understand your frustration, but this is how it has to be.”
Frustration? That’s not it. I want to fucking break something. Chuck has Riley in his grip, with all the time in the world to manipulate her, scare her, and make her life a living hell.
“Fuck that,” I growl, taking a step toward Blevins. “I don’t give a shit about procedure.”
Another officer steps forward, his expression warning. “Mr. Turner, you need to calm down.”
“Or what?” I snap. “You’ll throw me in a cell next to her?”
That’s not a bad fucking idea. At least I could keep an eye on her.
The officer looks ready to say something, but Blevins raises a hand. “Mr. Turner, I need you to leave. If you don’t, you’re going to land yourself in the men’s jail on the other side of the building.”
The words hang in the air, a clear warning. He must have sensed my plan. But I’m so fucking angry, I can barely see straight.
“Let’s go home, Spike,” Bones says quietly from behind me. His voice cuts through the fog of my rage. “You don’t need to make things worse. We’ll get her out of there tomorrow.”
His words hit me like a splash of cold water, and the weight of the situation sinks in. Riley’s not getting out tonight. I can’t do anything about it.
Reluctantly, I turn, clutching Asher tighter to my chest. Every step feels like a fucking betrayal.
But the rage? That doesn’t go anywhere. Not until I’ve got Riley back.
***
“I don’t know how you did it, Foster, but I owe you my fucking life. You name it, it’s yours.”
Foster leans back in his seat, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It was as easy as pie, Spike,” he says, his voice light. “Although, I’ve made a decision. I’m joining your club. And if you could do me a favor and skip the damn prospect stage, I’d appreciate it.”
“Done,” I say, not hesitating for a second to lock this man in as a brother. “Once we get my woman back home tomorrow, I’ll patch you in officially. I want her to be here to witness it.”
“So, you really are legally married,” Foster laughs. “As well as Asher’s legal guardian and adopted father. But I’m pretty sure Riley’s going to want a ceremony.”
“And she’ll have it,” I say. “I wasn’t gonna ask her anyway. Asking gives her the option to say no. I knew from the moment I met her that I was gonna tie her to me.”
We pull through the gates of the compound, the sight of my brothers’ homes and the clubhouse almost bringing a sense of relief. But it doesn’t feel like home right now, not without Riley.
The truck stops, and Tank is there. Standing by the gate, stiff as a board, his eyes locked on me with guilt written all over his face. As soon as I step out of the car, he’s on me, his hands trembling as they reach out like he’s about to crumble under the weight of whatever burden he’s carrying.
“Spike…” Tank’s voice cracks as he stumbles forward, his knees hitting the ground before I can even process what he’s doing. “I…I’m sorry, man. I should’ve done something. I should’ve fought harder. I never should’ve opened the gates. I…”
Before he can finish, I drop to my knees beside him and place a sleeping Asher in his arms.
“Tank,” I say, my voice surprisingly soft. “You did what you had to do. There was no other choice. If you hadn’t opened those gates, it wouldn’t have just been Riley and Asher they took. It would’ve been you, too. Or worse… they would have opened fire, and you’d be dead.”
Tank’s eyes are wide, filled with agony. “But I failed you, brother. I failed her. I failed my nephew. I let them take them. I didn’t stop them.”
“You didn’t fail me, Tank. You kept them safe. You did the only thing that could’ve kept you alive, that could’ve kept us from losing even more. You protected them by not letting it turn into something worse. If you’d fought back, it could’ve cost you everything. But you kept them safe, and that’s what matters.”
Tank’s breath hitches, and I can see the war inside him. The guilt still weighing him down, but also the realization that he made the hard call. The right one, even if it feels like failure.
He looks down at Asher and I watch as a single tear falls from Tank’s face down onto Asher’s cheek. I have never seen this man shed a tear for another living soul. Not even after his mama died.
“I should’ve protected you,” he tells my son. “I should have hidden you and your mama away. I’m so sorry, little one, that your mama won’t be with you tonight.”
Bones must have called him and updated him. He decided to wait for Maverick to arrive so Mav could ride my bike back home. They should both be here soon.
“Tank…” I start, my voice low, but sure. “You couldn’t have done anything else. You were caught between a rock and a hard place. And you did the only thing that saved your life and theirs. I’ll never forget that.”
Tank looks at me, and for the first time since we pulled up, I see a flicker of hope in his eyes. His shoulders straighten, the weight of guilt lifting just a little, replaced by the resolve that I know will carry us forward.
“I’ll fix this, Spike. I swear to you, I’ll fix this.”
I look down at Asher in my friend’s giant paws and smile. The anger still simmers in my blood, but it’s replaced by the sense of purpose that’s always come when I fight for what’s mine. My family. And we’re getting Riley back.
“We’re gonna bring her home, Tank,” I say, my voice steady. “We’ll get her back, and nothing… nothing…is gonna stop me.”
Tank nods, a fierce glint in his eyes. He might have been on his knees a moment ago, but he’s standing tall now, ready to fight. I can see it in the set of his jaw. The man who would burn the world down to protect his brothers.
“I’m with you, Spike,” Tank says, his voice hard with determination. “When she comes home, I’m locking them inside the compound for the next five years.”
I laugh at Tank’s ridiculous promise but can’t help but agree. I’ll get my woman back. And when we do, when Riley’s in my arms again, and they’re both safe, there won’t be a force on this earth strong enough to take them from me. Not ever again.