Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aero
The road stretches ahead, my headlights casting long streaks across the asphalt. It’s quiet this late, just the hum of my engine, the whisper of wind, and Lacey’s arms locked tight around my waist.
We’ve been riding for hours, Pennsylvania’s hills fading behind us, the flat sprawl of Jersey slowly unfolding ahead.
She’s behind me, right where she belongs.
Her arms snug around my waist, her chin tucked near the back of my neck.
Every curve is pressed close, her body moving in sync with mine the way it should be.
It does something to me. Every time I feel her breath through the fabric of my cut, it grounds me.
A truck pulls closer in the opposite lane, big and dark and riding a little too close to the line.
My eyes flick to the mirror out of habit.
The truck slows pulling back. Still, something doesn’t sit right.
My fingers tighten on the grips and I twist the throttle putting distance between us.
I feel her fingers flex against me, and I ease up slightly.
I don’t want her to think I’m tense. Even if I am.
A few miles later I catch sight of headlights behind us again.
Same truck creeping closer this time, then backing off.
My gut pulls tight. My instincts flickering like a faulty fuse, quiet, but insistent.
Lacey shifts behind me, just a little. I feel it in the way her hands press in at my sides. She’s getting tired.
I veer off at the next exit, minutes after the gas light blinks amber, peeling down an unmarked service road and into some no-name station lit by flickering overheads.
The place looks like it’s been here since the ‘80s and hasn’t seen a fresh coat of paint since.
Four old pumps. A busted ice chest. No one else around. It’ll have to do.
We need fuel. I need five minutes of her pressed up against me without the roar of the engine between us.
I kill the ignition and glance back.
“Stretch your legs, Bambola,” I tell her and draw cash from my wallet. “I’ll fill up.”
She slides off the bike, her fingers trailing down my back before she steps away. My body instantly feels cold from her absence. I swipe my card, and start the pump. My eyes sweep the lot out of habit. Habit that’s saved my life more than once.
She comes back toward me, holding two bottles of water and a pack of gum. Her smile lights the darkness hovering around us.
I grab her by the hips and kiss her hard enough to forget the last few days. She makes a soft sound, her hands bracing my chest, then sliding up to the back of my neck. Fuck, I could live in that sound.
A heartbeat later something sends a wave of tension crawling up my spine. My eyes snap open. Headlights cut through the darkness as the same black Ford barrels into the lot from the opposite side of the station, followed by a blacked out van.
My blood turns ice. “Lacey. Run.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She turns, but she doesn’t get far.
The doors of the lifted Ford slam open, both driver and passenger sides, metal creaking from the force. Men in black spill out of the van like a damn SWAT unit. Heavy boots hit the pavement. One of them grabs her before she hits the corner of the building. She screams.
I lunge. But I’m too late.
They swarm me. I drop the first with a blow to the throat, feeling cartilage collapse beneath my knuckles. The second grabs for me, but I slam his skull into the side of the pump with a crack that echoes. Blood spatters. He drops.
Then they’re on me faster then I can fight them off.
Boots thud against my ribs, sharp and relentless. A fist splits my brow. Another slams into my jaw. White-hot pain explodes behind my eyes. I swing wild, catching someone’s nose and feel it shatter under my knuckles. Someone screams.
But there’s too many. Hands claw at me, drag me down. My back hits asphalt. I kick. Thrash. Teeth bared. A boot connects with my side and something gives, my ribs, maybe. Doesn’t matter. I fight like a feral animal, teeth bared, fists breaking bone, still trying to get to her. Still losing.
Lacey screams again, sharp and panicked.
My head snaps toward the sound. She’s kicking like hell, but the bastard’s got her pinned.
Her arms wrenched behind her back, feet barely scraping the pavement as he hauls her off the ground.
I lunge toward her again but something slams into the side of my head.
The blow rings through my skull like a gunshot.
My knees buckle. The ground rises up to meet me.
The world tilts, sideways. I taste blood.
Hear the fear in her screams, raw and jagged like it’s being torn out of her.
Then nothing but boots and shadows.
Darkness holds me down like a weight. Heavy.
Suffocating. I have no sense of time, just the distant echo of Lacey’s screams still ringing in my ears.
A low, dull hum starts to crawl back into my skull.
Pain blooming, sharp and mean, like barbed wire dragging through the inside of my head.
I try to move. My arms, legs, anything, but everything’s numb like my body hasn’t caught up to the fact that I’m still breathing.
The world comes back in pieces. Wooden floor, thick air stinking of oil and rot, the sharp sting blooming behind my left eye. Somewhere nearby, water drips in slow intervals, each splash like a hammer on my skull. Footsteps echo. The low hum of male laughter.
I force my eyes to open, catching a pair of stilettos through the blur.
The blood on my face crusts as I blink through one swollen eye.
My hands are tied, my wrists raw and aching, my body slumped against something hard.
I slowly raise my head until I’m staring down the barrel of a gun.
The sight at the other end wrecks my world.
My heart hammers in my chest. My throat constricts as I try to swallow.
It’s the one person who knows too much about me. The one that can ruin everything Lacey and I have before it even has a chance without batting an eye.
“Hello, Aero,” Sophia Ricci purrs, stepping from the shadows like she’s on a runway instead of a rickety floor smeared in blood. Her dress is blood red and tight, slit up one thigh, lips matching the fabric, hair slicked into a bun so sharp it could kill a man. “Long time no see.”
I can’t move. Not with my arms still tied behind my back, half-conscious and bleeding out onto the floor. My shoulder’s wrenched, my lip’s split, and there’s a gash above my eye that won’t stop pounding.
Behind her, Garett Ricci leans against a wooden support beam.
His suit’s dark and tailored, his hair slicked back like he just stepped out of a boardroom.
He’s stroking Lacey’s hair like he has the right to touch her.
She flinches from his touch, but she doesn’t cry.
She doesn’t beg. Her wrists are bound in front of her, but her jaw’s set, eyes blazing with fire and fury even as a bruise blooms high on her cheekbone.
"Get your fucking hands off her," I snarl, jerking forward but held tight to my spot.
Garett smirks, continuing to brush Lacey’s hair behind her ear like he’s petting a dog.
Lacey meets my gaze across the room and her breath stutters. “Aero…”
“Shhh,” Sophia interrupts, waving the barrel of the gun lazily between us. “You’ll get your turn, sweetheart. First Aero,” she says in a mocking tone, “and I have some unfinished business to discuss.”
Sophia comes closer again, crouching beside me. She slaps me. Fast. Sharp. Then runs a manicured nail down the side of my neck. I shudder with rage. Her touch burns like acid.
"You could’ve had everything, Stone," she whispers. "Power. Money. Me. But you left me to play with your trashy little biker club. How’s that working out for you?”
I smile, my teeth stained red. "And yet you’re the one dressed like a mob Barbie, still chasing something you can’t have.”
“I warned you, Stone,” Sophia says, tilting her head. “You don’t just walk away from a Ricci. Especially not after shedding blood in our name. That bound you to me whether you wanted it or not.”
“You’re poison."
Sophia laughs. "Maybe. But poison kills."
She rises and stalks toward a table beside Garett. Her fingers dance over a blade, a syringe, a pair of pliers. "Do you know why you’re here?"
I glare at her.
"We know someone hit our shipment," Garett cuts in, his eyes cold. "And we know you and your filthy biker brothers are behind it."
"Don’t know what you’re talking about." I growl in response.
He backhands Lacey. The sound cracks through the open space like gunfire.
I roar. The chair scrapes the floor as I surge forward, but the restraints bite deeper into my wrists. Blood trickles down my palms.
Lacey lifts her chin, defiant and stubborn as always. "You hit like a little bitch."
Garett’s nostrils flare.
"Touch her again," I snarl, "and I will rip your throat out with my teeth."
Sophia lifts a brow. "Still the animal I remember."
"You’re going to tell me where my shipment is," Garett says, his voice now devoid of emotion. "Or I’ll let my sister break her until you have nothing left but regret."
I flick my gaze to Lacey again. She hasn’t broken. Not once. Her breathing is steady, her gaze locked on mine. Even now, even like this, she’s holding her ground. Chin high. Not shaking. Not sobbing. She’s showing me exactly what kind of woman she is. Fucking fearless.
Sophia turns, the slit of her red dress parting just enough to show the ink creeping up her thigh.
Elegant black lines etched in the shape of a crowned dagger piercing a rose, its stem wrapped in barbed wire.
The same symbol Garett wears on his forearm.
His is bold and brutal. Hers, sleek and precise. Two sides of the same empire.
I meet Garett’s eyes, unflinching. “You’re gonna regret not killing me when you had the chance.”
“No,” Sophia says, voice thick with false sweetness as she walks right up to me and presses the barrel of her pistol under my chin. “Don’t pretend you’ve got a conscience now. You’re not the hero, Stone. We’re the same.”
“We’re not the same,” I growl.
"You’ve got until sunrise," Sophia says. "Then I start carving her into pieces. Starting with the baby in her stomach.”
Sophia smiles like a snake, slow and poisonous. “Thanks for that little nugget of information, by the way.”
I blink, confused, until her hand dips into the tight line of her cleavage and pulls out the pregnancy test I forgot was in my pocket.
Shit.
“No,” I whisper.
“Oh yes.” Her voice drips with fake delight as she holds it up, then flicks it casually like it’s trash. The plastic stick clatters to the wooden floor, skips once, then lands between us face up.
Lacey gasps out a sound that slices right through me and her eyes flood with tears. She looks up at me, desperation etched into every line of her face, silently begging me to stop this.
I jerk against my restraints, muscles burning as rage detonates through every inch of me. My voice is a snarl, ragged and raw. “Touch them, and I will fucking kill you.”
Sophia presses a kiss to my cheek and walks away, Garett trailing behind her. Her heels clicking like a countdown.
I drop my head, breathing hard, and shift my weight subtly, just enough to feel a piece of jagged wood under my palm. If I can work it into my grip, maybe I can get the binds loose.
Because I’m getting her out. Even if it kills me.