Chapter 18 #2
I kneel in front of her, my hands on her thighs, grounding both of us.
"Jax stays here with you. He's one of the best fighters I know, and he'll die before he lets anything happen to you or Owen.
Tiny and a prospect are on the perimeter with rifles and night vision.
You're safe. I promise you. This cabin is a fortress, and every approach is covered. "
Her eyes fill with tears that she's too proud to let fall. "What if something happens to you? What if he's not alone? What if this is a trap?"
"It won't. It's not. And even if it is, I'm better than him. We're better than whatever he's got planned."
"You don't know that. You can't know that."
I lean forward and press my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent, memorizing the feel of her. "I'm coming back. I always come back. You and Owen are my whole world now. Nothing's going to keep me from you. Not Justin. Not anyone."
She nods, but I can see the fear in her eyes, the terror of losing someone she loves again. I understand it. I feel it too, every time I think about what Justin could do if we don't stop him.
I kiss her once, hard and possessive, pouring everything I can't say into it. Then I stand, my knees cracking, and Jax walks me to the door.
"Keep them safe," I tell him, my hand on his shoulder, squeezing once.
"Always, brother. You know that."
"I know. And Jax? If something goes wrong, if this turns into something bigger than we thought, you get them out. You forget about me, about the club, about everything except getting Ainsley and Owen somewhere safe. Understood?"
His jaw tightens. "It won't come to that."
"But if it does."
"If it does, I'll get them out. You have my word."
That's all I need.
The ride to the secondary location takes forty minutes, my bike eating up the dark highway, the wind cold against my face even through my helmet.
Steele, Riot, Rook, and Switch are already there when I arrive, engines idling, faces hard behind their visors.
They're armed, ready, and absolutely lethal.
These are the brothers I'd choose for something like this, experienced, ruthless when necessary, and smart enough to know when to hold back and when to pull the trigger.
"Intel?" Steele asks, his voice muffled through his helmet.
"Motel two towns over. The Pines Inn, room twelve. He's alone as far as we know, but we go in prepared for backup. Could be he's got friends from his old crew, could be he's hired local muscle. Either way, we don't take chances."
"Rules of engagement?" Rook asks, always the tactical one, always thinking three steps ahead.
"Non-lethal if possible until we confirm he's working alone and we can have a conversation about why threatening my family was the worst mistake of his pathetic life. After that, I don't care what happens to him. Dead, crippled, running scared, doesn't matter as long as he's never a threat again."
They nod, grim understanding passing between us.
We ride in formation, no lights, no sound except the rumble of engines that we can't avoid.
The motel is a shitty single-story place with half the letters missing from the sign, "The Pi_es In" in flickering neon, and cars that look like they haven't moved in months.
Justin's truck is parked three spots down from the office, front end pointed out for a quick exit.
Amateur move. Always park for defense, not escape. That's survival 101.
I give the signal with my hand. Steele and Riot take the rear, disappearing into the shadows. Rook covers the office, making sure no one calls the cops or tries to play hero. Switch and I go front, weapons drawn, safeties off.
The door isn't even properly locked. I can see the cheap handle hanging loose, like someone already forced it once and the motel management couldn't be bothered to fix it. One solid kick and,
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I freeze, my boot inches from the door.
It's Jax.
I answer immediately, my heart suddenly pounding. "Talk to me."
There's a beat of silence that lasts too long. Too long. Long enough for my blood to turn cold.
Then Jax's voice, low and wrong, strained in a way I've never heard before. "Knox. Get here. Now."
The line goes dead.
My blood turns to ice. My stomach drops. Every worst-case scenario I've been trying not to think about floods my mind in high definition.
I look at Switch, and he must see something in my eyes because he takes a step back. "What happened?"
"I don't know. But we're out of time. Change of plans. We go back. Now."
"What about—"
"Forget him. Move!"
I don't wait for confirmation. I'm already on my bike, engine roaring to life, gravel spraying behind me as I tear out of the parking lot. The others follow without question, because that's what brothers do. When one of us calls for help, we come running.
I open the throttle and the world blurs around me, trees and road signs becoming nothing but streaks of color in my side vision.
Every second feels like a year. The cabin is forty minutes away at normal speeds.
I make it in twenty-five, pushing my bike harder than I should, taking corners too fast, not caring about anything except getting back to Ainsley and Owen.
When I finally turn onto the dirt road that leads to the cabin, my headlight catches something wrong. Something that makes my heart stop.
The front door is standing open.
The porch light is on, casting long shadows across the steps.
And there's blood on the steps. Dark. Fresh. Too much blood.
I kill the engine and I'm off the bike before it fully stops, my boots hitting gravel and dirt. My gun is in my hand, safety off, every instinct screaming at me that I'm too late, that I failed, that I couldn't protect them.
"Jax!" I shout, my voice echoing in the quiet. "Ainsley!"
No answer. Just the wind in the trees and the sudden, terrifying silence.
I take the steps two at a time and push through the door, my gun up, my finger on the trigger, ready to shoot anything that moves.
The living room is a wreck. Furniture overturned, couch cushions scattered, the coffee table on its side. Glass shattered across the floor, glittering in the overhead light. Signs of a struggle. A fight. And in the middle of it all—Jax.
He's on his knees, slumped forward like a broken puppet, one hand pressed to his shoulder. Blood seeps between his fingers, dark and wet, spreading across his shirt in a stain that's growing by the second. His face is pale, sweat beading on his forehead, his breathing shallow and rough.
I'm beside him in an instant, dropping to my knees, my hand on his good shoulder. "Jax. Brother. Look at me."
His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then sharpening when he sees my face. "Knox..."
"Where are they? Where's Ainsley? Where's Owen?"
"He took them." His voice is barely a whisper, each word an obvious effort. "Two men. Dark sedan. Headed west on the main road. Maybe ten minutes ago. Maybe fifteen. I tried, I tried to stop them, but—"
My vision tunnels. Everything except Jax's words fades into white noise. "How bad are you hit?"
"Shoulder. Went through clean. I'll live." He tries to sit up and nearly collapses, his good arm buckling. "Go. Get them back. Don't worry about me."
I look at the blood pooling beneath him, at the way his lips are going pale, and know he's lying. The wound might have gone through clean, but he's losing too much blood too fast. But I also know he's right. Every second I stay here is a second Justin gets farther away with my family.
I pull out my phone and hit Mason's number, my hands somehow steady even though I feel like I'm going to explode.
"Justin took Ainsley and Owen. Jax is down, GSW to the shoulder, losing blood fast. I need medical at the cabin and every available rider tracking west from our location.
Now. Every brother, every prospect, everyone who can throw a leg over a bike. "
Mason's voice is ice when he responds, cold and deadly and absolutely in control. "On it. Tiny's five minutes out with a medic. I'm mobilizing everyone. We'll find them, Knox. We'll get them back."
"Make it fast."
I look at Jax one more time, memorizing his face, praying this isn't the last time I see him alive. "Don't you fucking die on me, you hear me? You're my brother. You don't get to check out on me."
He manages a weak smile, blood on his teeth. "Not planning on it. Go get your family."
I'm out the door and back on my bike before I can think, before I can process what's happening, before the full weight of terror can crush me. Steele, Riot, Rook, and Switch are right behind me, their engines roaring to life.
We ride into the dark, and all I can think is:
I'm coming, Ainsley. Hold on. Just hold on. I'm coming for you, and God help anyone who gets in my way.