CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
“Danny walked off his post. Not once. Twice. Left the back gate blind when we’re a week out from race day, and the whole fucking region is watching.
You know how tight we need to run it right now, how many eyes are on us.
And what does he do? He slips off for a fuck and a joyride.
Puts the whole operation at risk. Puts you at risk.
“But here’s the thing: we’ve got eyes now.
Cameras, mics, motion sensors. I know some of you bitch about it, say it’s too much, too tight.
But it’s that very system that told us Danny wasn’t where he was supposed to be, that let Silas see the problem in real time so we could act on it.
Because that kind of negligence gets people killed. So I made an example.
“If you’re pissed, if you’re scared? Good. You should be. That means you give a shit. That means you won’t make the same mistake. Because this club runs on loyalty. Brotherhood. If you can’t handle that, if you think you’re above it, then you can take your cut off right now and get the fuck out.”
Then his grin sharpens. A flicker of that old, violent charm. “This ain’t the Boy Scouts, boys. You wanna wear the screaming skull, you gotta be committed to what we built. This is our club—your club. Someone new comes in and disrespects that? I will do what I have to do. For you.”
The clapping starts up again, with renewed vigor. Someone whoops, loud and overeager. Everyone’s smiling a little too hard, nodding like what Billy’s saying makes them feel reassured and not fucking terrified.
He lifts the bottle high. “To the motherfucking O.D.!” And then he hurls the bottle against the steel wall, where it shatters with a resounding crash.
A silent shock momentarily ripples through the crowd, then it erupts into cheers and more applause.
The tension fractures just enough for laughter to break out.
For a second, it really does feel like a celebration.
Billy walks back to our table, accepting a fresh beer on the way from a prospect who runs over with it. He cracks it open as he sits down and looks at me.
“Feels like old times, doesn’t it?” he says with a wink.
Silas answers before I have to. “Better,” he says. “We’re tighter now, boss.”
Billy takes a sip. “And smarter.” He tilts his beer at Silas. “Can’t build a kingdom without a good spymaster.”
His eyes slide back to Wyatt.
“And you, Road Captain—how’s the roster? We ready to ride, or am I gonna see chrome in the gravel?”
Wyatt nods. “We’ll be ready.”
Billy clinks the neck of his beer against Wyatt’s in a toast. “That’s what I like about you, Ryan. Straight answers, no bullshit, and I always know I can count on you.” He exhales, and his voice drops. “That’s why I need you on the road tomorrow.”
Wyatt doesn’t react, but I feel the subtle tension in his body where it touches mine. He sets his beer down, and Billy just keeps talking.
“Casper. Rawlins. Lander. Shouldn’t take more than a day. Just long enough to remind folks we’ve got eyes in every town. Truth is, I wouldn’t send you out if I didn’t have to. Not now. But we’ve had a few complications.”
He leans in slightly.
“Rawlins got hit last week. One of the stash houses we thought was dark—someone got inside. They knew what they were looking for. No product gone, but some papers, and the locks were clean-cut. In and out. Quiet as hell.”
Wyatt cocks his head. “You think it’s the same guy from Cheyenne?”
Billy nods once. “Yup. Slipped past two guards too. Sheridan got hit the same way a month back. We thought that was it, but it’s a pattern.
We’re being targeted. Casper’s auto shop shut down overnight.
Strip club in Lander got flagged by zoning.
We’re losing ground. If someone’s poking at our old routes and front operations, I want boots on the ground. Your boots.”
“Understood,” says Wyatt.
Billy grins. “Knew I could count on you.”
Then he leans back, smiling easy again, the tension dissipating as the evening continues. The rest of the night unfolds in a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of engines in the distance. But beneath it all, a current of unease lingers, unspoken but palpable.
We get back to the room when the crowd’s finally started to thin out and the hangar is quieting down.
Wyatt’s on edge. I can see it in the way he moves, the watchfulness in his eyes.
He clicks the door shut, heads straight to the fan, and cranks it up.
Then he walks to the window, where the radio balances on the sill, and turns on something soft and melodic.
The room is mostly dark, except for the light leaking in from outside the door. The air is thick and too warm.
We undress in silence and slide into bed, facing each other in the dark. He tucks my hair back behind my ear and rests his hand on my cheek.
"I’m scared," I whisper.
“I hate to leave you alone here,” he says. “But this run is a good thing. It might be our shot to get out.”
“How?”
“There’s a truck stop in Rawlins where I used to coordinate pickups when I was patching in. The night manager, Dennis, is a former Marine. Turns out we ran parallel units back in Iraq—different battalions, but same dust. He keeps a CB radio in the break room for the truckers.”
I feel my heart pick up. “And?”
“And if I can get five minutes alone with it, I can send a burst. Channel 19, 1919 hours. Jake scans at this time and should pick it up. It’s our backup plan. A backup to the backup.”
My breath catches. For a second I forget how to inhale.
“You’re serious?” I whisper.
His nod is small, but solid. “Dead serious.”
The rush of hope is like a drug, a straight shot of euphoria pumping through my veins. My stomach flips, my skin prickles.
“You really think he’ll hear it?”
“Yeah. Good chance. I just need to get to the radio at the right time.”
Something breaks open inside me. A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding for months.
“I can’t believe…” My throat tightens. “I can’t believe we’re this close.”
“Well, we’re not out yet,” he says quietly.
“But we could be?” The words tumble out, reckless with hope. “This could actually happen? We could leave this place?”
His hand moves to the back of my head, cradling it gently. “Yeah, honey. We could.”
It floods me all at once, the memory of freedom, of having a future. Of choosing where to go, who to love. Of not being someone’s pawn or plaything or prisoner. The rush of it makes my eyes sting.
“But if they miss it?”
He’s quiet a beat too long before responding. “Then we figure something else out. We find another way.”
His hand slides along my jaw, thumb rough against my skin, sharp blue eyes staring at me with intensity.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he says in a voice full of promise. “No matter what goes down, I’ll make sure of that. You hear me?”
I nod but my throat is tight. He leans forward, pulling me in toward him, and kisses me softly.
It’s just breath and lips, his mouth moving over mine, but it draws a deep ache out of me. The longing that I always have for him, mingled with the terrifying hope of escaping with him, and the anxiety at being here without him.
“These sabotages,” he whispers low, like this is the most dangerous secret of them all. “They’re not random. It’s Jake and Damian leading coordinated strikes. I’m gathering intel here; they’re dismantling the network from the outside.”
It hits like a body blow. The idea of Jake and Damian, just beyond our reach, fighting the same battle we are, strikes me with sharp grief and longing. With an almost physically painful jolt of fresh hope.
Whenever I think of them, I imagine them just living their same old lives, going about their business. It never occurred to me that they would be as much a part of this mission as Wyatt is.
Jake. Damian.
And Ryder.
His name’s a wound too fresh to touch, but it bleeds just the same.
Three men I loved with my whole heart, even if it’s not supposed to work that way. Even if that’s not supposed to make sense.
I would give anything to feel close to them again. Anything to bridge the aching distance between then and now, between memory and flesh.
“God, really?” A sob tightens in my throat, and for one petrified second before it passes, I think I might cry. “Fuck. I miss them so much. It’s crazy.”
“Me too, hon.” He touches my face gently, as if he can reach past the grief, through my skin, and anchor me. “I promise you, you’ll see them again.”
All except one. The thought is unbearable, so I bury it, knowing neither of us can survive that grief right now.
But Wyatt’s here, and he’s solid and he’s real.
My need for him flares, hungry and fierce.
I slide my hand to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and pull him close, desperate to hold onto something tangible, something that hasn’t yet slipped through my fingers.
It’s more than just wanting him, it’s the tether he gives me to everything I thought I’d already buried.
Wyatt carries a piece of them with him—Jake, Damian, Ryder. Being with him doesn’t replace what I’ve lost, but it helps me hold onto it. It reminds me it’s still real.
“I need you,” I whisper against his mouth.
He groans and kisses me back, his need meeting mine. His hands find my shoulders, and his weight presses me back into the mattress. With one smooth motion, he rolls fully over me until he’s got me pinned to the bed.
He parts my knees with his, pushing my thighs apart, and a breath escapes me as I feel the heavy warmth of his cock against my thigh, already thick and hard.
He makes a low, guttural sound that rumbles through my chest and then kisses down my neck, over the curve of my breast and down my stomach, shifting lower, one hand slipping beneath each knee, spreading me wider beneath him.