Chapter Twenty-Three
Push
The ride to the motel should have taken twelve minutes.
I got us there in seven.
The second McKayla screamed for us to go, something ugly and desperate had ripped through the entire fucking club. Anchor barked orders. Prime radioed everyone. Cross nearly knocked over a chair trying to get out of Ron’s office fast enough.
And me?
I got McKayla on the back of my bike and twisted the throttle so hard the tires spit gravel across the haunted house parking lot.
The engine roared beneath us as we tore across Skull Island. McKayla’s arms were locked around my waist so tight it almost hurt, but I didn’t say a damn thing about it. I liked feeling her there. Even now. Even with everything going to hell around us.
The wind ripped through the trees as we shot across the bridge off the island.
Behind us, Anchor, Prime, Piney, Vin, and Cross thundered after us on their bikes. The roar echoed across the water like a damn war cry.
If we were too late, McKayla would never recover from it. And neither would I.
I didn’t know when this woman had gotten under my skin. Maybe it was the second she cracked her head open because she was terrified after finding a body. Maybe it was when she kept standing right back up and throwing sarcasm at all of us even while everything in her life was falling apart.
Or maybe it was the first time she looked at me like she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.
Didn’t matter now.
All that mattered was getting to that motel room.
Please let her be alive.
I wasn’t a praying man, but I found myself thinking it anyway.
McKayla pressed closer against my back as we flew down the road. I could feel her shaking now. Tiny tremors she was trying hard as hell to hide.
The motel sign appeared ahead and I leaned harder into the throttle. The bike practically flew into the parking lot and I barely got it stopped before I was off it.
McKayla jumped off right behind me.
“Push-”
I grabbed her arm hard enough to stop her from sprinting toward the room. “Stay behind me.”
Her eyes were wide and terrified. “What if she’s in there?”
“What if somebody else is?”
That shut her up, barely.
Room eleven sat at the end of the row exactly where we left it yesterday. The curtains were shut tight with no lights on and no movement.
Nothing.
Anchor and the others pulled in behind us hard and fast. Bikes killed. Boots hitting pavement.
Prime already had his gun out.
Cross scanned the lot.
Vin checked behind the motel office.
Piney muttered, “This feels real fucking bad.”
Yeah, it did. I pulled my gun from the back of my jeans and moved toward the door fast. McKayla was right behind me instantly.
I pointed toward the wall beside the window. “Stay there.”
“I’m not staying out here.”
“You are if bullets start flying.”
Her jaw clenched. She hated every second of this, but she moved where I told her.
Good girl.
Anchor came up beside me while Prime covered the windows.
“You ready?” Anchor asked quietly.
“Yep.”
Cross moved behind us. “Back side’s clear.”
Prime nodded once. “No movement.”
I grabbed the knob and it was locked. That didn’t matter, though. I stepped back once and drove my boot straight into the door.
The cheap motel lock exploded instantly, and the door slammed inward against the wall.
And there she was.
McKayla made a horrible sound behind me.
Not a scream, but worse. The kind of sound somebody made when their entire world cracked open.
Erin lay tied to the bed exactly like the poster. Wrists bound to the headboard, ankles tied apart, and dark hair spread across the pillow.
Too still. Way too fucking still.
My stomach dropped hard enough to make me dizzy.
No.
No no no.
Not after all this. Not after everything McKayla had gone through to find her. This couldn’t be how it ended.
“Call 911!” I barked.
Everybody moved at once.
Cross shoved past me toward the bed while Vin and Piney started cutting restraints. Anchor was already on the phone. McKayla stumbled into the room beside me.
“Erin,” she whispered. Jesus Christ. Hearing her say her sister’s name like that damn near ripped something out of my chest.
She moved toward the bed fast, but I caught her before she collapsed.
“Easy, baby.”
“She’s not moving,” McKayla choked out. “Push, she’s not moving.”
Cross pressed fingers to Erin’s throat. The room went dead silent and nobody breathed or moved. Then Cross looked up sharply. “She’s breathing.”
The entire room exhaled at once.
McKayla broke then, not completely, but tears flooded her eyes instantly as she stared at her sister.
Erin looked terrible.
Bruises along her arms. Split lip. Pale skin. Dark circles beneath her eyes.
There was an IV bruise on one arm like somebody had stuck her more than once.
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Whoever did this was going to die. I didn’t care who the fuck he was anymore.
Piney carefully cut the bindings from Erin’s ankles while Vin worked on her wrists.
“She’s ice cold,” Vin muttered.
Cross adjusted her head slightly. “Shallow breathing.”
McKayla moved closer again.
“Erin?” Her voice cracked hard. “Erin, it’s me.”
No response. Nothing.
The motel room suddenly felt way too small.
The air too thick.
Anchor finished with dispatch and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Ambulance is two minutes out.”
“Better if it were one minute,” Prime muttered from the doorway.
McKayla climbed carefully onto the edge of the mattress beside her sister. I stayed close enough to catch her if she lost it. She reached for Erin’s hand slowly. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Tears rolled down her cheeks now openly. “This is my fault.”
“No,” I said immediately.
Her eyes lifted to me. “If I would’ve found her sooner-”
“This ain’t on you.”
Her face crumpled for half a second before she forced it back together again. Strong. Jesus Christ, she was trying so hard to stay strong, even seeing her sister tied to a damn bed looking half dead.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Everybody in the room shifted slightly.
Cross stepped back from the bed to make room. “Need space when they get in here.”
McKayla nodded quickly and climbed off the mattress, but she never let go of Erin’s hand until she absolutely had to.
The paramedics burst through the busted motel door seconds later carrying bags and equipment.
The room exploded into movement.
Questions.
Vitals.
Commands.
“How long has she been unconscious?”
“When was she found?”
“Any known drug use?”
McKayla stood frozen beside me trying to answer while watching them work on Erin. I kept one hand against her lower back, holding her up, because I could feel her shaking harder now.
The medics worked fast as hell.
One started an IV and another checked Erin’s airway. They cut open part of her shirt to place leads across her chest.
One medic looked up sharply. “We need everyone out of the room.”
Nobody argued. We all backed into the parking lot while they worked.
McKayla stopped right outside the doorway. “I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not,” I told her quietly. “We’re right here.”
She nodded fast without looking at me.
Inside the room, the medics kept moving around Erin rapidly. I caught pieces of conversation.
“Pulse weak.”
“BP dropping.”
“Need to move now.”
One medic started bagging oxygen and another adjusted the IV.
McKayla made another small broken sound beside me.
I pulled her against me automatically and she folded right into my chest.
Not weak.
Not helpless.
Just done.
Too many weeks of wondering if her sister was dead.
“She’s alive,” I said quietly into her hair. “You found her.”
“But barely,” McKayla whispered.
I didn’t know what to say to that because she wasn’t wrong.
The medics finally rolled the stretcher out. Erin looked even smaller strapped onto it. Fragile. Like she could disappear if somebody breathed wrong.
The oxygen mask covered most of her face now and the machines beeped softly beside her.
The medics moved fast toward the ambulance. Too fast. That was what scared me most.
McKayla stumbled forward automatically. “Erin!”
One of the paramedics stopped briefly. “You family?”
“Yes.”
“Follow behind. We’re gonna be moving fast.”
“Okay.” I answered at the same time she did.
The medic nodded once and jogged to the ambulance.
McKayla turned toward me. Her face was wrecked, and tears were everywhere. I stepped in front of her and cupped the side of her face. “She’s in good hands, baby.”
Her mouth trembled. “She has to be okay.”
“She’s gonna fight.”
McKayla leaned into me fully, then for a second.
“You guys gotta go,” Anchor called. “We’ll be right behind.”
The sirens screamed back to life, and we ran to my motorcycle.
We found Erin, and now she just had to stay alive.