Chapter 29 Carver
The steady rumble of my motorcycle vibrates beneath me as Shield and I arrive at Tony’s gym. My bike idles low and mean beneath me, the engine thrumming through my boots while I watch the entrance through darkened lenses. We’re parked down the street and out of view of the main window.
Shield parks beside me, one boot planted on the pavement while he checks the tracker screen mounted near his handlebars. Every man involved tonight is patched into the same communication line through helmet speakers and concealed mics.
The entire club is spread across the city. We’re waiting, watching, and ready to hunt.
I rest my forearms on the handlebars and lean forward.
“You good?” Shield asks through the comms.
I snort softly. “Not even close.”
Because Raven is sitting back at the clubhouse while the man who hurt her still walks free.
Because every time I think about Tony touching her, something black and violent twists inside my chest.
Static crackles in my helmet before Dante’s voice cuts through, calm and steady.
“Chaos and I got movement. Andrew Rollings just left his office. Looks like he’s heading home.”
I picture Dante and Chaos somewhere downtown, their bikes gliding through traffic while they shadow their target.
“Copy,” Shield answers.
A few seconds later, Torch speaks up.
“Jay Banks just left his office building.”
Ranch’s deep voice follows immediately behind him. “He’s heading for the freeway northbound. Looks like he’s going toward Rollings’ house too.”
Good.
Two of them are gathering already. Tonight could be the night we take them down. It’s Sunday, so the chances were good that the guys wouldn’t go hunting tonight. But we didn’t want to waste an opportunity.
Shield glances toward me but says nothing.
He doesn’t have to.
We’re both thinking the same thing.
Babe’s voice cuts in next through a burst of wind noise. “Paul Storr is mobile. Scar and I are behind him.”
Then Grimm.
“Scott Tyler just left the bank.”
“Thought Grimm was going to take him down in the parking lot,” Feral laughs.
“After the way he harassed that woman, I should have. He’s a putz. I can’t wait to take him down.”
Laughter crackles through the comms, easing some of the tension riding beneath everybody’s skin.
Even I smirk faintly.
“Focus,” Dante growls.
Then Ghost’s calm voice drifts through my helmet speakers.
“Cliff Mellor just left his apartment complex.”
“Reaper thinks he’s carrying,” Flame says over the roar of his engine.
“He adjusted his waistband twice,” Reaper argues.
“Or he’s got to piss.”
“He just left his apartment. He’s armed.”
“Probably,” Shield mutters.
The gym lights go off.
Every muscle in my body tightens instantly.
The roar of Tony’s car echoes down the street. We hear him before we see him. He pulls out without a glance in our direction—arrogant asshole.
I grip my handlebars harder.
The urge to run him off the road and beat him bloody hits so hard it nearly chokes me.
Shield notices immediately.
“Easy,” he says quietly through the comms.
I key my mic. “Tony Martin’s on the move.”
The chatter across the line instantly dies.
Shield waits several seconds before pulling onto the road. I follow behind him as we pull smoothly into traffic, four vehicles between Tony and us.
The city lights blur across chrome and black paint while we weave through evening traffic.
Tony heads toward the freeway.
“Tony’s heading north,” Shield says.
Dante answers immediately. “Andrew Rollings just arrived home.”
A cold feeling settles in my gut.
One by one, the updates start rolling in through the helmets.
“Jay Banks is entering Rollings’ neighborhood.”
“Paul Storr approaching from the east.”
“Scott Tyler is five minutes out.”
“Cliff Mellor just entered the subdivision.”
Shield glances at me as our bikes thunder beneath an overpass.
“They’re gathering.”
“Yeah.”
When Tony exits the freeway, we know where he’s going. He’s taking the same route as his friends.
The quiet community seems so innocent, maybe in the other houses, but not in the two-story home where Tony parks.
Andrew Rollings’ place.
Several luxury vehicles already line the driveway and the street.
Tony parks beside them and kills the engine.
Shield and I loop around the adjoining street and pull up next to where the others have parked. We’re probably making the neighbors nervous, but we’re too far away for Tony and his friends to see us.
All six men are in the house. Now the question is: do they stay, or are some of them going to go hunting, as we suspect?
“Visual confirmation,” Dante says. “All six present.”
I swing off my bike and yank off my helmet, shoving my fingers through my hair while rage churns hot beneath my skin. Nobody is joking now. We’re all waiting for their next move.
Dante stands near his bike with his arms crossed, staring toward the distant glow of Rollings’ house.
“We could go knocking on their door,” Chaos suggests. “Nothing is stopping us from going in there and taking them out now.”
“Except, we want to prosecute them,” Shield says. “There are women out there who have been denied justice because these assholes gave each other alibis. We need to prove that these men have been lying so we can break their alibis and prosecute them for their crimes.”
“You know, just because you prove they’re lying doesn’t mean the women will receive justice,” Flame says.
“You’re right. That’s why if the courts don’t prosecute, we’ll come in and clean up,” Dante says.
“We’ve got activity,” Ghost says.
We all snap our attention back to the house in time to see Cliff Mellor and Jay Banks leaving the house. The two men climb into their cars and take off.
Ghost, Flame, and Reaper take off after Mellor, with Torch and Ranch following Banks.
The rest of us wait. We listen and watch.
“Cole, we’re heading in your direction. Jinx, get ready,” Ghost says.
“Axel, we’re coming up on your location,” Torch calls out. “Izzy, you’re up.”
The plan is for the prospects to drop Izzy and Jinx off wherever the men end up. Then they’ll park and go inside for added protection. Club members will watch the target’s vehicle.
That leaves the rest of us still watching the house. We’ll wait, watch, and listen.
Byte’s fingers are practically flying over a keyboard; he’s inside the SUV parked down the street. I can hear the faint clicking through the open comm channel as he coordinates everyone.
“Traffic cams are live,” Byte says. “I’m tracking all teams now.”
“Any signs the targets made us?” Dante asks.
“Negative.”
Shield folds his arms over his chest beside me. “What about our girls?”
A few seconds pass before Byte answers.
“Jay Banks just arrived at the first location.”
The silence that follows feels razor sharp.
Then Byte continues.
“It’s a bar downtown. Izzy is already inside.”
Good.
Nobody says what we’re all thinking.
Jay Banks has no idea he’s walking into a trap.
Another burst of keyboard clicks.
“Cliff Mellor just arrived at the second location,” Byte says. “Different bar across town. Jinx is in place.”
Perfect.
Two targets separated with two of our women acting as bait. We have two chances to expose these bastards.
“You got eyes inside?” Dante asks.
“Prospects are recording,” Byte answers. “I’m monitoring both locations.”
I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension wound tight through my muscles. My patience is running thin. Every second Tony Martin remains inside that house pisses me off more.
When the front door to the house opens again, we all go still. Tony steps out alone.
“There he is,” I mutter. “He’s leaving. Should we follow?”
Tony moves quickly down the driveway to his yellow Mustang. He climbs inside and starts the engine.
Dante’s voice immediately cuts through the comms. “Carver, Shield—you’re up. See where he goes. Take him down if he grabs a woman.”
I shove away from my bike and pull my helmet on fast. The engine beneath me roars to life.
Beside me, Shield swings onto his bike and does the same.
By the time Tony’s car turns onto the main road, we pull out and follow. We stay far back enough to keep from spooking him, but we won’t lose him.
Streetlights streak across the pavement as we weave through late-night traffic.
The steady vibration of my bike usually calms me.
But not tonight. This feels wrong. We aren’t heading downtown.
We’re heading toward a residential area.
These streets are older, with modest homes and cracked sidewalks.
I narrow my eyes as I realize where we are.
“Shield,” I growl into the mic. “I think I know where he’s going.”
“Where?”
I stare at the Mustang ahead of us as Tony slows near the curb.
“This is Nancy Filby’s house.”
Silence slams across the comms.
Then Dante’s deadly calm voice cuts through.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
When Tony pulls into the driveway, I glance down the street, and my heart stops when I recognize the car parked there: Raven’s.
Every ounce of blood in my body turns to fire.
“Fuck,” Shield snaps.
I barely hear him.
My vision tunnels on Raven’s car sitting there beneath the streetlight.
Why is she here?
Fear and fury collide inside me so hard it makes my hands shake around the handlebars.
“Carver,” Dante barks sharply through the comms. “Do not rush in blind.”
Too late.
I’m already off my bike.