by Jacie Lennon
“Who are you?”
“I’m no one. But you need to go,” he says, jerking his head toward the window.
My mouth drops open, and I stare at him.
“Now.”
The force of that word has me standing up, yanking the small sheet I’ve fashioned to hold my food out from under the comforter and turning around to face him once more.
“You want me to leave?”
“Now,” he says once more before striding over to the window, checking both directions. “Head straight back. There will be someone to help you.” He grasps my elbow to steady me as I put one leg over the sill.
“Thank you,” I say, looking him directly in the eyes.
“Go.” He lets go of me.
I pull my other leg through, hopping down, and I see him walking back across the room, out of sight. I turn, letting my eyes focus in the dark, and start to make my way across the back lawn of the compound, between the two outbuildings, and straight through to the wood line, where I know the fence runs. I can’t stop thinking about the guy, my guardian angel, and I feel deep gratitude for him.
Clutching the balled-up sheet of food, I outright sprint as soon as I leave the safety of the shadows, darting across the grass. Rocks and sticks cut into the soles of my feet, but I don’t stop until I slam face-first into the fence.
Oof.
The shaking sets off a chain reaction, the metal pings echoing along the line, and I freeze. Waiting. Listening. Once I don’t hear anything, I place my hand on the fence, walking and feeling for any breaks. I think about whispering, trying to get the attention of whoever is supposed to be back here, but what if he was wrong? What if no one is waiting for me?
That would be more likely.
I hear noises. Looking up, I squint and see darkly clad figures standing off in the distance. They are walking toward the compound, and my heart starts to race. I lower myself slowly, pressing my body into the earth, hoping they don’t look in my direction. I feel thankful that the moon isn’t bright tonight; otherwise, it would’ve been a spotlight on me. Once the people move on, where I can’t see them anymore, I jump up, placing my hand back on the fence, and I continue to walk down the line, feeling for anything I could crawl through.
Suddenly, my palm meets air, and I stop, bending down. I exhale in relief when I see the huge hole in the fence. Once I get through it, I fall, my foot giving out beneath me as I step on something sharp.
“Ow, fuck.” I move myself to where I’m sitting and take my bare foot in hand. I lean in and can see a small slice where blood is starting to form on the skin. I feel around in the darkness, finally finding what I stepped on.
Wire cutters.
Furrowing my brow, I glance around, straining my eyes to see if anything else is here. I spot a toolbox and scoot over to it, opening the top and moving tools around. There’s nothing in the box I can use for my foot, so I reach up to rip the hem off my shirt to wrap around as a makeshift bandage. It’s harder than they make it look in the movies, and by the time I’ve got a good portion torn, I’m huffing and puffing.
I brace my hand on the fence once I’m satisfied with the bandage and heave myself up to standing, favoring my foot a little as I limp along. I get a few steps away before I realize I should take something out of the toolbox to use as a weapon.
I open the top again, finding a long wrench that I can hold pretty well. With only a glance back, I grab my food cloth and start to pick my way across tree roots and leaves, hoping that I’m heading out of the woods and not deeper into them.
14
Brock
We creep across the wide field behind the compound, not seeing anyone moving around, and I furrow my brow. It doesn’t seem right.
Shouldn’t there be people stationed around?
I don’t know that much about motorcycle clubs, but it seems unlikely that they wouldn’t have anyone monitoring outside. I throw my hand up once we are behind one of the outbuildings, and we plaster ourselves to the side.
“Does something feel off to you?” I whisper to Mooney.
“Yep,” he says, a grim look on his face. “I don’t like this,” he whispers back.
My heart starts to beat faster, if that’s even possible.
“Well, we’ve come this far. We can’t back out now,” I whisper back.
I walk forward a bit, peeking my head around the corner, and the main house comes into view. I can vaguely hear raucous laughter and some music. Someone comes out the side door, and I shrink back a little. I survey the back of the building, looking for any signs of anything suspicious, and I watch as a shadow passes by an open window. Then, a man reaches out and places some board on the outside. I’m confused on how he gets them to stay from inside the window, but then I realize, if he’s boarding it up, that must be where they are keeping Peyton.
I jerk my head toward it and step back, so Mooney can get a good look at it. Bodhi is bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Corbin is leaning one shoulder against the wall of the building, arms crossed with the crowbar sticking out.
Mooney motions us forward, and we start to walk when I hear a noise behind us.
“Oof,” Bodhi says as he’s jerked backward, landing on his ass.
He’s up immediately, whirling and backing up as we turn. My stomach sinks when I see Drake standing there, the same two guys with him that he had at Slice ’n’ Dice. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he has that same infuriating smirk on his face.
“Didn’t think you guys would be idiotic enough to show up here,” Drake says.
As I watch Bodhi start to move, I reach forward, grabbing the back of his black hoodie.
“Let go of me,” he hisses, but I keep a firm hold.
“Such a good brother,” Drake says, moving forward slowly, silently, like a snake. I’m not sure who he’s referring to.
“I’m not your brother,” Bodhi hisses.
Drake laughs. The sound grates on my ears, and I want to release Bodhi. Maybe he’d get a few good punches in.
“Not technically, no,” Drake says. “But since your mom is my mom, I guess, in some weird way, we are related.”
“She’s not our mother, not anymore.” I level him with my most intimidating stare, but he doesn’t care.
“No, I guess not. And she’s technically not my mother either. But she did raise me. That’s more than you can say,” he says with a laugh, and I can’t take it anymore.
I let go of Bodhi, who falters with the release of the tension on his shirt, and I grab my Glock, aiming it right at Drake’s face.
“Back the fuck up. Right now,” I say through clenched teeth, but he smiles.
His two henchmen pull their guns, aiming at Corbin and Bodhi. I glance over my shoulder but don’t see Mooney, and now, I feel outmanned.
“Let’s not make this difficult. Why don’t you put down your gun, and we will put ours down and pretend like this didn’t happen? We can walk right around the corner and inside.” Drake is still standing there, his arms crossed, completely at ease.
He thinks he has us cornered, and he might. But I won’t go down without a fight.
“Over my dead body,” I say.
He chuckles, and the sound churns my stomach.
“It might come to that,” he says. As if threatening death is an everyday occurrence in his world. And it might be.
God, why did Peyton have to get mixed up with him?
“I’m assuming you think I have Peyton?” he asks, and I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out his game.
“We don’t think it; we know it,” Bodhi says, and I grit my teeth.
Quit fucking talking.
“Locked up like an animal,” he continues, and I want to groan.
“Oh, you know that? How? I’ve had her phone.” Drake steps forward, and we all raise our guns higher, our arms tighter, tension coiled.
Now, I know that he’s probably seen my messages to her.
“Doesn’t matter. Give her to us, and we’ll leave,” I sna
rl.
“Now, that will be over my dead body,” Drake says with a laugh.
“Would love to make that happen,” Bodhi says, apparently oblivious to the gun aimed right at him.
I open my mouth to speak, but a loud bang reverberates through the air, sending us all into shock. We dive to the side, tucking and rolling.
Fuck, what just happened?
I jump up, holding my head, Glock still clutched in one hand, and meet the satisfied gaze of Mooney, standing behind Drake and his two guys. One of them is lying on the ground, clutching his leg, while Mooney has his sawed-off pointed toward him. He cocks it again, aiming this time for the ground right in front of Drake, and fires. Another loud boom, and they are scrambling. Mooney jerks his head, letting us know to take off running, and we do, straight back for the fence line. I hear the gun go off once more before Mooney meets us, diving through the hole and jumping to his feet.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and we murmur our agreement.
I grab the toolbox and hand it to Corbin. All I hear is my sharp intake of breath as we take off again, tripping over uneven ground, low-hanging branches slapping us in the face. My adrenaline is pumping, and I’m on a high right now, but I know I’ll crash later—once the gravity of what we did sinks in.
We pretty much declared war on the Lions.
Peyton
I haven’t gone far before gunshots break out, and I flinch, ducking down behind a tree. I don’t know why; it wasn’t close to me, but I don’t want to take a chance. I wait until a little after the third one, and when no more follow, I move again. My foot is still smarting, and mixed with the fact that I’m not wearing shoes, it makes my journey through the woods slower than I want, but I’m not giving up. I’m getting out of here if it’s the last thing I do. I can’t go back to being a prisoner, to doing what Drake expects of me. I’m not his.
I hear it as soon as I start moving—the pounding of feet behind me. Before I know it, a hard body slams into mine, and we go down. I drop my pack of food and the wrench with a thud. Thankfully, the arms attached to the body that hit me grasp my arms, and our bodies turn, the other one absorbing most of the impact as I fall on top.
Damn it. When will I stop getting hurt? Or caught?
I take a few deep breaths, my eyes darting up, and in the dim moonlight, I focus on the gray ones peering out from beneath a hood.
“Peyton?” His deep voice shoots a bolt of disbelief and then relief through me.
“Brock?” I whisper, sitting up, my knees on either side of him before I realize what it looks like.
His hands grasp my waist as he struggles to sit up too. There’s a sliver of skin exposed, where I ripped my hem up, and his fingers rest there, warming me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
I come to my senses, jumping up, leaving behind his intoxicating gaze and touch.
“I could ask you the same,” I say as he gets to his feet.
“Oh my God, it’s you. You’re okay?” he says, and before I can respond, he’s yanking me to him, slanting his head to the side and pressing his lips to mine. “It’s you,” he murmurs against my mouth, the vibrations of his words tingling through my body, and I finally open my lips a little, kissing him deeper. His arms wrap around my waist, holding my hips firmly against his before he breaks the kiss with a ragged groan.
“Damn,” I hear from behind me.
I whirl, meeting the excited gaze of Bodhi and the slightly embarrassed faces of Corbin and Mooney.
“Moon?” I ask, barely able to believe it. I realize then that I feel tears welling. Tears of relief and happiness as I launch myself into Mooney’s embrace.
“Hey, girlie,” he says against my head, his scruff catching my hair and tugging a little.
“There were—I heard gunshots,” I say frantically as I step back, looking Mooney over as best I can in the low moonlight.
“I’m fine. We are all fine,” he says, and I swallow sharply. The feeling of relief that pours through me about brings me to my knees.
I can’t lose Mooney; he’s all I have.
I raise my eyes and meet the still-shocked and confused gaze of Brock. I don’t think he expected to run into me in the middle of the woods.
“How did you get out?” Mooney asks, getting my attention, and I turn back to him.
“Tore apart a chair and used it to pry the board off my window,” I say with a grin, proud of myself for taking control. Someone blows out a long breath behind me, and I spin in a slow circle, looking at each of the guys. “Did you boys come to rescue me?”
“Yeah.” Brock’s voice is gruff and warms me along with the way he looks kind of shy and embarrassed.
“Looks like you didn’t need rescuing,” his brother, Bodhi, replies, and I cock my head at him.
“Looks like it.”
We all stand in silence for a moment before Corbin speaks, “We should probably get out of here.”
We launch into action. The guys start moving, and I follow, glancing over to see Brock beside me. I’m still limping, and the fast pace starts to make sharp pains shoot up my leg.
Brock puts a hand on my arm, stopping me. “What’s wrong?”
He moves closer, the moon highlighting his face as his gaze rakes over my body. I know it’s an assessing look, his frown letting me know he’s trying to figure out what is wrong, but I can sense where his eyes touch each part of my body before landing on my foot I’m holding up slightly. A warm sensation is left behind, which causes my skin and nipples to prickle with awareness.
“I’m fine,” I say curtly, put off by my thoughts, and he crouches down, eyes on my foot while leaving his face level with my crotch.
Oh God. Not fine anymore. Not when he’s so close to certain body parts.
“What?” he asks, peering back up at me.
“What?”
Did I say that out loud?
“You said something,” he replies, his fingers flexing where they hang beside his body.
I vehemently shake my head. “Nope.”
He narrows his eyes for a moment before reaching for my ankle. I place a hand on his shoulder, steadying myself as he picks my foot up. He pushes my makeshift bandage to the side and sucks in a sharp breath before looking back up at me.
“What did you do?”
“Stepped on some wire cutters,” I say with a shrug, and he growls. He actually growls.
“Fuck,” he says, and I lean harder on him as he continues to hold my leg up, making me off-balance.
“It’s not your fault,” I say.
He stands swiftly, placing his arms behind my knees and back. In one quick motion, I go from standing to cradled in his arms, and my heart is racing.
“Brock, put me down. I can walk.”
“Shut up,” he says gruffly, striding toward where the other guys disappeared.
I awkwardly wrap my arm around his shoulders and settle in for the ride. It doesn’t look like he’s going to put me down until we get to wherever we are going. He doesn’t talk, and the only sounds surrounding us are his heartbeat against my body and his slight exhales as he carries me through the rocky terrain of the woods. Even the insects are quiet. I don’t know how he knows where he’s going, but as long as he gets me out of here, I’m okay.
We finally come to a clearing, where a dirt road runs through it, and up ahead, I can see the other three guys gathered around the back of Mooney’s truck, putting the toolbox inside.
“Who the fuck left the wire cutters on the ground?” Brock says forcefully, causing me to jump after the silence.
“What?” Bodhi turns to look at us, and his eyes register shock when he sees me in Brock’s arms.
“It’s fine,” I say, placing my other hand on his chest and squirming.
“Be still,” he growls and walks the last few paces to the truck. “Open the door.” His bark sends the guys into motion.
Mooney hops in the driver’s seat, and Brock sets me in the middle of t
he front bench seat. Corbin and Bodhi slide in the back, and Brock sits next to me, his presence seeming huge as he turns to glower behind him. There’s the Brock I’ve always known. It’s hard to reconcile a soft, caring side with the one I’m seeing now—the King. The one in charge. The one who always gets what he wants.
The truck jostles me as Mooney drives out of the grass and onto the dirt road. I hold my injured foot up a little by wrapping my hands around my knee, making sure it doesn’t hit the floor of the truck. The mood is tense. No one speaks for a moment.
“What’s eating your ass?” Bodhi pipes up, and I grimace, knowing he said the wrong thing.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Brock’s tone is calm, but his body language tells me that, inside, he’s seething. “Maybe I’m upset that we had guns aimed at our faces. Or maybe I’m mad that Peyton’s foot is pouring blood after she stepped on wire cutters that someone had left out.” He stares at Bodhi.
I glance behind me to give Bodhi a sympathetic face. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known that I would be out there.” I try to smooth things over, but a warm hand lands on my thigh—Brock’s way of stopping me.
“You need to fucking learn to be more responsible,” he says, his tone reproachful, and I can tell Bodhi won’t take it well.
“Oh, really? I need to be more responsible?” Bodhi yells.
Brock half-turns and crouches in the seat, ready for a fight.
I scoot closer to Mooney, who wraps an arm around me, pulling me in.
“You do realize that the only reason we are out here in the first damn place is because you weren’t fucking responsible, right? Why the hell would you ever go after her, you damn idiot? You know this isn’t going to turn out well for either of you. And you know that sticking your dick—” His words are cut off as Brock goes over the seat, landing on top of him.
Corbin’s yelling and trying to keep Brock from coming all the way over the seat, but he’s big. I don’t know how he got back there in the first place.
“Damn idiots,” Mooney mutters as he stops.
He throws open the door, and I slide over behind the wheel as he stalks to the back. He opens the door behind him, and I hear a thud as Bodhi falls out of the back of the truck. Brock brings his legs over the top of the seat and jumps out after him, and there are more grunts and groans. I lean over and rest my forehead on the steering wheel, listening to them fight and resisting the urge to laugh.
