Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Regan’s blood turned to ice.
Ryder stood in the pale wash of the parking lot light, his hand resting on his hip, casual. Almost bored.
But his eyes were anything but—they burned with a fury she could feel from twenty feet away.
“Seems we have a problem,” he repeated, kicking the crumpled envelope toward them. “You think a piece of paper is going to stop me?”
CB stepped forward, putting himself slightly ahead of Regan. “Walk away, Ryder. It’s over.”
“Over?” Ryder laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You turned my own men against me today, CB. You think I’m just going to let that slide?”
“And it was so damn easy because they know now what a scumbag you are.”
“You manipulated them! Same as you’re manipulating her.” Ryder’s gaze flicked to Regan, dismissive and cruel. “Henry Hill’s daughter. Your father would be ashamed of you, chasing after trash like that.”
CB’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed even. “My father was friends with Henry, and he knows Regan and her mom are good people. Leave Regan out of this.”
“She put herself in it. Her and that podcast.” Ryder took a step closer. Denny moved with him, flanking wide, positioning himself to cut off any retreat toward the bar. “You know what I think? I think you’ve forgotten where you come from. Forgotten what loyalty to me means.”
“I know exactly what it means. That’s why I’m standing here.”
Ryder’s hand moved.
Regan saw the gun before her mind fully registered what it was—black metal catching the single light as Ryder drew it from his waistband and leveled it at her chest.
“Then let’s see how much she means to you.”
Everything happened at once.
CB lunged sideways, putting his body between her and the barrel. Ryder’s finger squeezed the trigger. The shot cracked through the night air, impossibly loud, and CB jerked backward.
Regan screamed.
CB didn’t go down. He staggered, one hand pressing against his left side where blood began spreading through his shirt. Then he was moving—so fast for his size—and charging Ryder before the man could fire again.
They collided hard. The gun flew from Ryder’s grip, skittering across the gravel into the darkness. CB drove his shoulder into Ryder’s midsection and took him to the ground. Fists and elbows flew, accompanied by grunts of pain as they rolled across the ground.
Regan started toward them, desperate to help, but hands grabbed her from behind.
Denny.
His arms locked around her torso, lifting her off her feet. “Going somewhere?”
The smell of him—cigarettes and sweat—triggered a flash of the previous assault. The fear, the helplessness, his weight pinning her. For one terrible second, she was back there, frozen and unable to fight.
Then the fear ignited into rage.
She still had her handheld recorder in her pocket. She’d been using it to make notes all day, thinking about what to do next since the Outlaws investigation was in the FBI’s hands. Her fingers closed around it as Denny dragged her backward.
Regan drove her elbow into his ribs. When his grip loosened, she twisted, pulled the recorder free, and swung it directly into his face.
The crack of plastic against cartilage was deeply satisfying.
Denny howled, releasing her as both hands flew to his nose. Blood poured between his fingers, nearly black in the dim light as he bent over.
Regan kicked him in the shin for good measure, then spun back toward CB.
He had Ryder pinned on the ground, one knee in the man’s back, twisting his arm at an angle that made Ryder cry out. But CB was bleeding badly—the left side of his shirt was soaked, and his movements were slower than they should have been.
“Stay down,” CB growled.
Ryder struggled, trying to buck him off. “You’re going to regret this. Both of you. I’ll burn everything you?—”
“Enough.”
The voice came from the darkness beyond the parking lot.
Regan turned, heart hammering, and watched as figures emerged from the tree line. Outlaws. A dozen of them, maybe more, stepping into the light with their cuts visible and their faces grim.
She recognized some of them from today—the gray-haired man who’d laughed at CB’s joke, Pete who’d worked her grill, others who’d left generous tips and called goodbyes as they headed out. Mixed among them were other faces, men and women she didn’t know but who moved with the same quiet authority.
One of them walked straight to Denny, who was still clutching his ruined nose, and forced him to his knees with a hand on his shoulder. “Stay put.”
Another approached CB and Ryder, but didn’t interfere. Just stood there, a silent witness to Ryder’s defeat.
A car pulled into the lot. An old sedan, moving slowly, headlights cutting through the gathered crowd.
It stopped, and the passenger door opened.
Wade Briggs.
He emerged slowly, one hand gripping the door frame.
The driver—Jimmy from the other night—hurried around from the front end to help him, but Wade waved him off after a few steps.
His left leg dragged slightly as he walked with a cane, his left arm stiff at his side, but he moved under his own power, his jaw set with determination.
The Outlaws parted for him.
Wade stopped a few feet from where CB held Ryder pinned to the ground. He looked down at his nephew, and a mix of disappointment and sorrow passed over his face.
“Let him up,” Wade said.
CB hesitated, then released Ryder’s arm and stepped back, keeping himself between Ryder and Regan. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the gravel.
Ryder scrambled to his feet, his face a mask of rage. He brushed dirt from his shirt and glared at CB with a confident smile. “At least someone around here is thinking straight.”
Wade jutted his chin at CB. “You hurt?”
CB barely glanced at his blood-stained shirt. “I’ll live.”
“Ryder shot him,” Regan said, her voice echoing around the lot.
Murmurs and head shakes followed.
Wade narrowed his eyes at his nephew. “How could you betray me, Ryder?”
The smile fell off Ryder’s face. “I would never betray you, Uncle Wade.”
Wade shook his head. “I know exactly what you’ve done.”
Jimmy hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, his voice low and dangerous.
“And he told the rest of us. That’s not right, Ryder.
We’ve looked the other way about a lot of stuff, but this?
” He wasn’t as big or broad as Wade or CB, but the hair on Regan’s neck stood up when he continued. “This will not be tolerated.”
Ryder snorted a small laugh and glanced at CB.
“Of course, you’d turn Wade and the others against me, too.
” Blood dribbled down his chin from his split lip.
He wiped at it with the back of his hand and spat more onto the ground.
“Clive Briggs, the golden boy. Walks back into the gang after deserting us, and everyone’s bowing to him. ”
“We’re not bowing to anyone,” Jimmy said, voice still hard and edged with deep-seated anger. “And we’re no longer tolerating you, regardless of your ties to the Briggs family.”
Around the lot, the others were nodding. Ryder frowned. “Uncle Wade, there’s been some mistake. CB attacked me. He’s been working against the family?—”
Wade adjusted his stance. “I heard the recording.”
Ryder’s mouth snapped shut. He flicked his gaze to CB, back to Wade. “What recording?”
“My son recorded your conversation at the campground.” He emphasized my son , and Regan saw CB straighten slightly. “He played it for me this morning.”
Ryder’s tan skin paled, sickly in the dim light. He shot another scathing look at CB. “You did what ?”
CB returned the look with calm detachment. “My specialty in the Rangers was intelligence gathering. When surveilling the enemy, I learned to record everything.”
Ryder’s mouth opened, closed.
Wade’s voice was slow, deliberate, each word costing him effort.
“I didn’t want to believe it. Told myself there had to be an explanation.
” He paused, his chest rising and falling.
“Then word went around the call tree about the cease and desist letter. How you were ignoring it and coming here to physically harm Regan. I get here, and what do I find? My son is bleeding because you shot him.”
Ryder shifted from one foot to the other. “I was just trying to protect the organization. CB’s the one who?—”
“You pulled a weapon on an unarmed woman.” Wade cut him off, his voice hardening. “You tried to kill my son. In front of witnesses.” He shook his head slowly. “You’re done, Ryder. As of now, you’re out of the Outlaws.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I just did.”
Ryder looked around wildly, searching for support among the gathered men. He found none. The faces that stared back at him were closed off, hostile. Whatever loyalty he’d commanded had evaporated the moment he pointed that gun at Regan’s chest. Or maybe before, when they’d heard the recording.
“This isn’t over,” Ryder said, voice tight and menacing.
“Yeah, it is.” Jimmy stepped forward, his arms crossed. “You heard Wade. You’re out.”
Another ripple of murmurs, these affirmative.
Ryder’s hands clenched into fists, but he didn’t move. He was outnumbered, outmaneuvered, stripped of everything he’d built. Regan watched him realize it, watched the rage in his eyes curdle into humiliation, the beginnings of despair.
Wade turned to face the gathered Outlaws. His balance wavered for a moment, but he steadied himself, refusing Jimmy’s outstretched hand.
“We’re going to need someone to hold things together while we sort this mess out.” His gaze swept the crowd, then landed on CB. “Any volunteers?”
CB held up his hands, blood still spreading from his injury. “Not me.”
A murmur went through the gathered men. Then the gray-haired Outlaw spoke up.
“We need you, CB.”
“He’s right.” Pete stepped forward, gave Regan a slight nod, and then addressed CB. “You’re the only one we all trust.”
More voices joined in. “We need you.” “Step up, Briggs.” “You’re Wade’s son—it should be you.”
Regan moved to CB’s side. There was so much blood. She placed her hand on his back. He looked at her, uncertainty flickering in his eyes despite everything he’d just done.
“It’s only temporary,” she said quietly. “And you’re good at this. At helping people.”
Wade nodded slowly. The other Outlaws murmured their agreement.
“Rangers lead the way,” Wade said, his voice rough. “And so does my son.”
The words had meaning, evidenced by the way CB went still. He was silent for a long moment, and Regan felt the tension in his body, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He’d spent years running from this legacy, building a life that had nothing to do with the Outlaws.
But this was different. These men and women weren’t asking him to become what Ryder had been. They were asking him to help them become something better.
“Okay,” CB said finally. “I’ll do it. But only until you find someone permanent.”
Wade’s face creased into something that might have been a smile. He wobbled slightly as he reached out with his good hand, still holding the cane, and touched CB’s shoulder. The touch was brief, awkward, but it said more than words could have.
Headlights swept across the parking lot as another vehicle arrived. Regan recognized the black SUV before it even stopped—Garrett’s. Claire climbed out of the passenger side, her badge visible, her hand on her weapon as she assessed the scene.
“Looks like we missed the excitement,” Garrett said, moving to CB’s side and eyeing the blood soaking his shirt. “You need a medic.”
“I need a lot of things.” CB swayed slightly, and Regan gripped his arm. “But yeah, a medic would be good.”
Claire approached Ryder and Denny, pulling handcuffs from her belt. “Ryder Briggs, Denny Crue—you’re both under arrest. Attempted murder, assault, extortion, and a list of other charges we’ll discuss on the way to the station.”
Ryder resisted, but Claire shoved him against CB’s truck and had him in cuffs before Garrett or any of the Outlaws could offer assistance.
Denny was still bleeding from his broken nose. He glared at Regan as Claire secured his wrists while reading him his Miranda rights.
She smiled at him.
“The Outlaws are going to need help sorting out who’s guilty of what,” Claire said to CB as she handed Ryder off to Garrett. “You could be their liaison. Work with us to separate the ones who were following orders from the ones who were giving them.”
CB nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Claire’s expression softened slightly. “Now get to the hospital before you bleed out in this parking lot.”
Regan was already pulling him toward the passenger side of his truck. “I’m driving. Give me the keys.”
He handed them over without further argument, which told her more about his condition than anything else.
The gathered Outlaws watched as she helped CB into the passenger seat. Wade raised his good hand in something like a salute. The others followed, a ragged chorus of gestures that felt more like a promise than a goodbye.
Regan climbed behind the wheel and adjusted the seat. Her hands were shaking, her heart still pounding from everything that had happened. But CB was beside her, alive, and Ryder was in handcuffs, and somehow—impossibly—they’d won.
She pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Hill’s Tavern behind.
“Regan.”
She glanced at CB. His face was pale, his jaw tight with pain, but his eyes were clear. “Thank you.”
She didn’t know if he meant for smashing the recorder into Denny’s face, or for telling him to take the interim position, or for something else entirely. It didn’t matter.
“Partners, remember?” she said simply.
He smiled weakly and closed his eyes.