5. Lucy #2
“And my house, at least until we figure out how two people who married before their first date combine their lives.”
“Keep that too.”
I study him. “No argument?”
“I want you in my life. I didn’t ask you to erase yours.” The answer lands more deeply than possession would have.
“Where would you have taken me on a first date?”
“River overlook.”
“On the bike?”
“If you’d climbed on.”
“I would have.”
His gaze holds mine.
“Should’ve asked sooner,” he says.
“I might have said yes.”
For the first time, the future feels less like a trap and more like something we can build without either of us disappearing inside it.
Wilder reaches for my hand and turns it palm up. The cheap stone catches light between us.
“We replace this too,” he says.
“It has character.”
“It has sharp edges and costs six dollars.”
“Seven ninety-nine, actually.”
“You remember that bit?”
“The clerk announced it twice and I remember laughing.”
His thumb moves over my palm. “Keep it anyway, but I am getting you something better.”
A blast shakes the window. Wilder rolls from the bed before the sound finishes. A second crack follows, then gunfire from the east side of the compound.
Men shout in the yard. He pulls on jeans, shirt and cut with brutal speed. I drag his black shirt closed around me and reach for my skirt.
Smoke rises beyond the front windows. An engine screams, followed by another shot. Wilder fastens his gun belt.
“Get dressed and get downstairs to the clubhouse.”
“What happened?”
“Perdition made their move.” He catches the back of my neck and kisses me once.
“Stay inside until I come for you.”
“Go.”
He leaves at a run.
The compound changes within seconds. Kane and Judge emerge from church issuing orders. Tank crosses the yard toward the waiting bikes while brothers spill from the garage and clubhouse. Wilder points toward the east approach, and engines thunder through the opening gate.
Cash takes me back into the common room with two prospects. Smoke thickens beyond the front windows, orange flames flickering through the trees where a vehicle burns near the road.
Gunfire cracks from the east side of the property.
One prospect’s radio comes alive. He listens, then runs for the side door. The second is called away moments later.
Cash stays until another burst of gunfire rattles across the compound and his own radio crackles.
“Stay behind the bar,” he says. “Don’t move until one of us comes back.”
Then he heads toward the garage.
Several minutes pass. Engines roar beyond the gates, followed by more shots farther down the east road. Nobody returns to the common room.
I remain crouched behind the bar, listening to the fight move away from the clubhouse.
The rear door opens.
Chains comes through the corridor at a fast walk, his long gray hair tied at his neck and his Kingdom Come cut across his shoulders. He checks the empty room before looking for me.
“Wilder sent me,” he says. “We’re moving you.”
“But he told me to stay here.”
“The position changed. Front wall is too exposed.”
Another blast sounds outside. I flinch without thinking, and Chains holds out one hand. “Leave the phone and bag. They can track the phone, and we need speed.”
“But Wilder…” I look toward the window, searching for him.
“He’ll be fine. He just wants me to get you somewhere safe.”
Chains leads me through the corridor past the garage. Brothers move toward the main gate. Smoke and engine noise swallow the quieter side of the compound.
The rear service gate waits beyond the last building, guarded by two prospects. Chains’s bike is parked beside the garage, already facing the track. He pulls a spare helmet from the back of the bike and holds it out to me.
“Put it on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Farther from the shooting. Wilder wants you moved before Perdition comes around the back.”
The taller prospect steps forward. “Gate’s locked down.”
“Wilder changed the position.”
The prospect hesitates. “He said a patched brother would bring the word.”
“And here I am.”
Chains moves close enough to make the younger man lift his chin. “You questioning me?”
The prospect’s jaw tightens. “No. Of course not.”
“Then open the fucking gate, boy.”
Steel rolls over gravel. Chains starts the bike and looks back at me.
“Get on.” Gunfire cracks somewhere beyond the trees.
I pull on the helmet and climb behind him.
He takes us through the service gate. It begins closing before we reach the end of the track, cutting off the compound behind us.
Chains rides hard for several minutes. The gunfire fades, but he doesn’t slow, and no Kingdom Come bikes appear behind us.
I lean closer. “Where is Wilder?”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “Dealing with the attack.”
“Shouldn’t someone else be coming with us?”
“No.”
Something in the answer tightens my stomach.
Chains turns onto a narrower road and slows.
A dark SUV waits at the junction ahead, engine running.
Two men stand beside it in leather cuts.
PERDITION curves across the white patch on the nearest man’s back, and for one stupid second, my mind refuses to understand what I’m seeing.
Then everything falls into place. The burning vehicle.
The gunfire dragging every brother toward the front of the compound.
Chains arriving only after the common room emptied.
This was never an escape.
I throw myself off the bike before it fully stops.
I land badly on one foot, but wrench free of the seat and run.
Chains catches the back of my jacket. I twist and drive the helmet into his face.
He swears and loses his grip long enough for me to make it three steps, but one of the Perdition men reaches me first. His arm locks around my waist and lifts me from the ground.
I kick backward, catching his shin, then claw for the hand crushing me against him.
“Get off me!”
Blood runs from the corner of Chains’s mouth, and the irritation I’ve seen around the clubhouse is gone. What replaces it turns my fear cold.
“Wilder didn’t send you,” I say.
“No, he didn’t.” The second man opens the rear door of the SUV.
I trusted Chains because he wore the same patch as Wilder.
That was the trap.