13. Jade #2
Hawk comes back with his phone tucked away and his face set in hard lines.
“Viper’s going to Linda’s neighbor’s house to pick up Linda and Mason, then bring them to a safe house two hours north of here.
It’s club property but off the books—neutral territory that no one knows about except core members. ”
“Viper?”
“Female club member who rides a Harley and knows how to move under the radar.” Hawk crouches down in front of my chair, so we’re eye level.
“Tyler’s people are looking for three bikers with a woman, not a woman on a bike with a kid and his aunt, which means Viper can get them out without raising flags. ”
“But what if—” My mind is already racing through everything that could turn this into a disaster.
“What if Tyler’s watching, what if they follow, what if something goes wrong?
” Hawk’s eyes are steady and unwavering on mine.
“All valid questions and all legitimate risks we can’t completely eliminate, but staying put is the bigger risk because your son is exposed and his location is compromised, so we move him now before Tyler figures out where Linda went. ”
I want to argue, want to demand they let me go get Mason myself, want to scream and fight and do something other than sit here useless while someone else saves my child, but Hawk’s right, and I know he’s right even though it’s killing me.
I nod because I can’t speak, can’t trust my voice, so I just nod.
“Viper’s leaving now and she’ll be at Jerry’s house in forty minutes,” Hawk says, still crouched in front of me. “Linda knows to expect someone, right?”
I shake my head. “I need to call her back and tell her.”
Shadow hands me the phone, and I dial with shaking hands, pressing wrong numbers twice before I get it right.
Linda answers before the first ring finishes. “Jade?”
“Listen to me carefully. A woman named Viper is coming to get you and Mason—she rides a motorcycle, and she’s going to take you somewhere safe.”
Silence, then: “What? Jade, I don’t understand. Who is this person, and how do you know her, and why?—”
“Linda, please.” I’m begging now, past pride and past explanations. “Please just trust me. Be ready when she gets there. When she says it’s time to go, you go without asking questions or hesitating.”
More silence while I hear her breathing and Mason in the background asking who’s on the phone.
“How long will we be gone?” Linda asks, finally.
“A week, maybe more. I don’t know yet.”
“Jade.” Her voice drops to that serious tone she uses when she’s about to say something I won’t want to hear. “What have you gotten into? What kind of trouble are you in?”
“The kind I’m trying to get out of, but I need Mason safe first.” My throat is closing up. “Can you do this for me? Can you trust me?”
Another pause, longer this time, then: “Okay. I’ll be ready. But when this is over, you’re going to tell me everything.”
“I will, I promise.” The words come out choked. “Tell Mason I love him and tell him Mama’s coming to get him soon and tell him to be brave.”
“I’ll tell him.”
I hang up before I start crying again and set the phone down carefully on the table, like it might break if I’m not gentle.
Forty minutes until Viper arrives, then the two-hour drive north to the safe house, then however long it takes to get confirmation that they’re secure—three hours minimum, maybe four, which is four hours of not knowing if my son is safe and four hours of imagining Tyler’s men kicking down Jerry’s door.
I sit at the kitchen table, watching the clock as the seconds crawl by, hunger nudging at me, thirst scratching at my throat, a dozen unfinished tasks waiting somewhere behind me.
Hawk makes coffee, and the smell fills the kitchen, bitter and dark, and he sets a cup in front of me, but I just wrap my hands around it for the warmth without drinking.
Shadow tries to engage me in conversation, asks if I want food or need anything, or if I’m okay, but I don’t respond because all my words are trapped somewhere deep in my chest.
Razor checks his phone, then the window, then his gun, his movements mechanical and routine, like this is just another Tuesday.
The minutes crawl past while the storm outside gets worse—wind screaming now and rain battering the windows hard enough that I’m afraid they’ll break, and the power flickers once, twice, but holds.
The clock crawls forward. By quarter to two, Viper should be at Jerry’s. By two fifteen, loading Mason into whatever vehicle she brought. By three, halfway to the safe house if the roads are clear.
I imagine Mason scared of the thunder. He’s always hated storms, used to climb into bed with me and bury his face in my shoulder, asking me to make it stop.
The coffee in my hands has gone cold but I can’t bring myself to drink it.
Hawk’s pacing now, six steps one way and six steps back with his boots thudding on the floor, and Shadow’s stopped pretending to be calm because he’s at the window looking out at nothing with his jaw tight, and Razor’s on his third perimeter check out in the storm.
The phone rings, and everyone freezes. The sound cuts through the cabin like a gunshot, sharp and sudden and final.
Shadow grabs it from the table and checks the screen, then looks at me with his mouth curving into the smallest smile. “Package secured. They’re safe.”
The world stops, then restarts, then stops again, and everything goes white, then black, then white again.
My knees give out completely, and I’m falling, but Hawk’s there somehow, moving faster than should be possible for a man his size with his arms around me and catching me before I hit the floor.
And I’m crying—sobbing, breaking apart completely—because Mason is safe and I’m not there and I can’t hold him and I can’t see him and I can’t kiss his forehead and tell him everything’s okay, but he’s safe.
Hawk’s holding me tight with one arm around my back and one hand in my hair, anchoring me when I feel like I might dissolve or simply stop existing, and he’s talking in that low voice I can barely hear over my own crying, something about “It’s okay” and “He’s safe now” and “You did good, Jade.”
I bury my face in his chest and sob like I haven’t sobbed in years—not quiet crying or controlled crying but ugly, gasping, full-body sobs that shake me from head to toe because this is relief, pure and overwhelming and devastating relief.
His heart beats steady beneath my ear, his hands warm against me. I know I need to pull back, to put space between us, to remember this is Tyler’s father, that this is complicated and wrong and dangerous. But I can’t move. For this one fragile moment, I feel something I haven’t felt in days.
Safe.
I don’t know how long we stand there—could be minutes or hours because time doesn’t make sense anymore—but eventually the sobs slow and the shaking eases, and I’m left hollowed out and exhausted, clinging to Hawk like he’s the only solid thing in a world that won’t stop tilting.
I pull back slightly and look up at him, and his face is close with his eyes dark and unreadable.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer, just looks at me like he’s trying to figure something out, and then his hand moves from my hair to my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone and wiping away tears.
The air between us shifts and charges, and for a second—just a second—I think he’s going to kiss me.
But Shadow clears his throat from across the room, and the moment breaks.
Hawk steps back and lets me go, his expression shuttering closed. “You should eat something and get some rest.”
I nod because I don’t trust my voice, and he turns and walks out of the kitchen while I hear his boots on the stairs and a door closing.
Shadow approaches carefully. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I wipe my face. “I’m okay.”
“Mason’s safe and Viper’s good—she’ll take care of them.”
“I know.” But I don’t know, don’t know anything except that my son is two hours away and I can’t see him, and Tyler’s still hunting, and this isn’t over.
Razor comes in from outside with water dripping from his jacket. “Perimeter’s clear. No movement.”
“Good,” Shadow says, and they exchange a look I can’t read.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Shadow says too quickly.
“Tell me.”
Shadow hesitates, then: “Hawk called Reaper while you were on the phone with Linda and told him we moved club resources without authorization.”
My stomach drops. “And?”
“We’re running out of time,” Razor says flatly. “The club’s getting suspicious about why Hawk’s protecting you, and this just got more complicated.”
I sink back into the chair. Mason’s safe, but now one problem is solved, but another one is created.
Outside, the storm shows no sign of stopping, and neither does the danger closing in around us.