“I look like I was just fucked,” she complains. I grin as I drive out of the spot, watching out of the corner of my eye as she tried to straighten out her wrinkled dress.
I love it when she lets me mess her all up.
Twenty minutes later, I turned the truck onto the street of the Dog Pound. Adrianna was still trying to fix herself, giving up on smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress she concentrated on her hair.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her as I pull up to the gate.
She screams as a reply to my compliment, stopping my heart as I slam my foot against the break. Turning to face her, my gaze travels out the window in the direction she stares at in horror. The glass security booth that mimics a parking attendant’s booth is splattered with blood.
“Don’t move,” I shout, opening the console. I pull out my revolver, knock back the safety and jump out of the car. The arm that lifts to let cars through is hanging off by the hinge and is riddled with bullet holes. I walk alongside the truck, with my weapon drawn and stand in front of the window Adrianna is still staring out.
“Get down,” I whisper harshly, waiting for her to do so before I take a few steps closer to the glass booth and enter it. The body inside the booth is slumped over. Forcefully I push his chest back so he leans against the chair and I can inspect who it is.
“Shit,” I hiss, wiping his blood down the front of my shirt as I peer into Mack’s lifeless eyes.
“Anthony,” Adrianna cries, causing me to turn around and watch as she points straight ahead. I avert my eyes in the direction she’s pointing and I see an unfamiliar man walking toward the clubhouse. His arms are extended at his sides and his feet shuffle with every step he took, appearing as if there were cinderblocks weighing down his feet.
I race out of the booth and hurry to the car.
“Anthony, Nikki and Mike are in there,” Adrianna shouts.
Fuck. I kept my hand firmly on the shifter and contemplate my next move, my eyes never wavering from the man making his way toward the clubhouse. My first instinct is to drive my truck over the fucking guy who killed one of Jack’s men but I had my wife next to me and this wasn’t some Bonnie and Clyde bullshit.
I narrow my eyes, looking for weapons and notice the vest wrapped tightly around his body.
“Anthony!” She shouts.
I ignored her as I continue to concentrate on the vest. Little red and blue threads wrap around his torso and his back connecting to something on his chest. I shift the car into drive and roll toward the clubhouse to get a closer look when Adrianna grabs my arm.
“Are you listening to me? We need to get Nikki and Mike out of there,” she orders, desperately.
I run my fingers through my hair, glancing at the gun on my lap before lifting my eyes back to my wife’s.
“There’s a gun under your seat. The clip is in the glove box,” I instruct, turning my attention back to the man who stands in front of the door. “You stay behind me and do as I say, you hear me Adrianna? I’m not kidding this time. I tell you to stay put, stay fucking put.”
“And if someone holds a gun to your head?”
“Shoot the motherfucker like you shot Rico,” I say, slamming my foot against the gas as the man pulls open the front door of the Dog Pound and disappears inside.
I turn to face her, watch as she pulls back the safety and stare at the door.
“Hey,” I say, reaching over the console to squeeze her knee. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she replies, turning her gaze to me.
I lean over the console and kiss her quickly. I didn’t pull away, and neither did she but the kiss ended as we were thrown from the car and the Dog Pound exploded.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I took my place beside the priest, offered him my hand and to my surprise, when he shook it, I didn’t turn to ash. Maybe there was hope for me.
Blackie walks up behind me, pats me on the shoulder before tipping his chin toward Linc who sits on top of the bar strumming a guitar.
“You knew he could play?”
“No idea,” he replies as Linc lifts his head. His eyes remaining closed as he hums along to the familiar tune. Finding the beat, he begins to sing.
If I could then I would.
I’ll go wherever you will go.
Way up high or down low, I’ll go wherever you will go.
Our attention diverted from Linc to the end of the makeshift aisle where Lacey stood smiling from ear to ear. I return her smile as she starts down the aisle to the sound of Linc’s smooth voice surrounding us. Clutching her bouquet, her gaze locks on the man standing to my left and she continues toward us. Pausing in front of me she presses a kiss to my cheek before reaching for Blackie’s hand. Winking at her, he lifts her hand to his lips and places a quick kiss to her knuckles. Lacey winks at him before she turns and takes her spot across from me. I take in a deep breath as I turn, knowing I was about to lay eyes on the light of my life.
To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
If a great wave you shall fall and fall upon us.
Then I hope there’s someone out there who can bring me back to you.
Even with a mind that fails me, there are moments in my life that have stuck with me. The day my parents died. The day I received my patch. Both days my kids were born. The day I took the gavel as president of the Satan’s Knights. The day I walked into Dee’s Diner and ordered a slice of cherry pie. They all float around in my head.
But this day, this moment, this one will stick with me even after I’m buried. Seeing her at the end of the aisle, smiling at me with love radiating from the depths of her soul and shining through her eyes. This moment will be engrained in my heart. The moment my bride walks to me and offers me a future.
Pairing her wedding gown with a black leather jacket, she was a vision of white silk and worn leather. The dress beneath the leather was simple, fitted across her chest and flowed freely from under her bust, accentuating the swell of her stomach and trailing behind her with every step she took toward me. She lowers the bouquet of sunflowers and places her hand over her stomach as she takes the final steps.
She hands Lacey her bouquet before turning to me and placing her hands in mine.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today on this beautiful day to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” the priest begins as I lace our fingers together, squeezing her hands slightly as I swallow the lump in my throat.
“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” the priest continues.
I tear my eyes away from Reina and glance around the room, daring anyone to fuck with me, but all I see are smiling faces. A room full of people near and dear to both me and Reina, people who respect the both of us, all of whom are part of our new family.
I’d remember their faces and this moment too.
And the one that came next.
The door opens, sunlight streams from behind the figure shuffling through the door, blinding the view of the man’s face. When the door finally closes behind him I see Ronan clear as day, gagged with duct tape, arms extended out to his sides mimicking Jesus on the cross and enough explosives strapped to his chest to blow up an entire neighborhood.
Frozen in place, his eyes meet mine and I watch the tears spill down his cheeks.
That was the final moment engrained in my memory.
The moment my eyes met the man the enemy sent to deliver us our fate.
My life and love might still go on.
In your heart, in your mind, I’ll stay with you for all of time.
BOOM.
Chapter Forty
My eyes flutter open, fighting for focus through a thick cloud of smoke and dust, reminding me why I was face down against the concrete. Lifting my cheek from the ground, I open my mouth to call for Anthony but it feels as if there is something in my throat, suffocating me. I swallow hard, t
rying to scream but only managed to whisper. I close my eyes, swallow again and try one more time. This time, I push myself up off the ground and allow my eyes to roam over the destruction surrounding me. Bile rises in my throat as I see the orange and amber glow of flames through the thick fog of smoke.
“Anthony,” I scream, hysteria coursing through me as I twist my head from side to side hoping to spot my husband. Kneeling, I groan in pain, my stomach aches with every slight movement I make. I stay hunched over, clutching my ribs that are probably broken from the impact of being tossed from the truck. Coughing, I cover my mouth and slowly stand on my bare feet.
My shoes are gone.
“Anthony,” I cry frantically, walking through the fog over the glass and debris. In the distance I can hear the faint cries of others pleading for help but none of them match the voice I’m searching for, desperate to hear.
“Oh God,” I whimper, climbing over the truck. “Anthony!”
“Reese’s,” he mumbles.
“Yes, baby it’s me. Where are you?” I ask, squinting as I ignore the burn of my eyes and try to locate him. “Keep talking so I can follow your voice.”
“I’m over here,” he says, sounding more coherent than before. “Shit,” he groans. “My arm is fucked.”
I follow the sound of his voice, finding him leaning against a piece of what I think is our truck, one arm crossed over his chest, clutching his bicep that is pouring blood. I run to him, crunching glass beneath my feet. I’m reminded of the pain in my stomach when I drop to my knees in front of him. Wincing in pain I grab a hold of his face and touch my lips to his.
“Thank God,” I cry, leaning my forehead against his as he snakes his good arm around my waist.
“Are you okay?”
“I think I may have a broken rib or two but I’m okay,” I assure him, leaning back to take a look at his arm and stare at the offensive piece of metal piercing his bicep. He grunts through his teeth, forcing my focus back to his face.
“It’s nothing,” he grumbles.
It’s not nothing, but glancing over my shoulder, following the sounds of the people inside the demolished clubhouse, I know it’s the lesser of the injuries we’re about to face. There’s death waiting on the other side of the cloud of smoke and I pray it’s not my sister.
“Adrianna,” Anthony shouts, dragging my focus back to him. “Listen, I need you to pull this piece of metal out of my arm.”
His blue eyes are dead serious as mine widen, shifting to the dagger.
“If I take that out of your arm you will bleed out.”
“If you don’t then I’m useless and there are over two dozen people trapped in those flames that need us,” he protests through gritted teeth. “Pull the metal out of my arm, Reese’s.”
My hands trembled as they move toward his arm.
“Do it,” he shouts.
I shake my head, glancing around then back at him and the red tie that hangs loosely around his neck covered in ash.
“Do it!” he repeats.
I loosen the knot, pulling the tie from his neck before I stand and close my eyes. Forcing myself to stay calm I close my hands over the metal.
“On three,” I say. “One. Two.”
“Three,” he grunts.
He curses as the metal slides out of his body, slowly torturing him until I drop it to the ground and quickly wrap his silk tie around the wound. It instantly becomes soaked with his blood but I continue to wrap it, pulling it tight with all my might before double knotting it and praying it controls the bleeding.
“I’m sorry,” I cry watching his face contort with pain. He takes a deep breath and grabs my hand, slowly hoisting himself up until he stands on unsteady legs. He drops a kiss on my forehead before fixing his eyes to mine.
“Don’t leave my side,” he orders.
“I won’t,” I say, rubbing the ache beneath my breastbone.
We walk through the smoke, bypassing the flames crawling around parts of the ground. It was hard to decipher what was the parking lot and what in fact were the remains of the clubhouse.
“Hello!” Anthony calls into the devastation. “Call out if you can hear me.”
“Nikki!” I shout. “Mike!”
Nothing.
“Bianci, you bastard, I’ve never been so happy to hear your voice.”
“Pipe?” Anthony questions.
“Aye,” he replies.
“Keep talking,” my husband instructs Pipe. I stay close behind him as he follows the sound of Pipe’s voice but the arch of my foot pulses, forcing me to stop. Balancing my weight onto one foot, I turn around and spot a body face down on the floor. I glance over my shoulder, making sure that Anthony wasn’t too far behind me before I start toward the body.
I freeze when he crawls across the debris.
“Hey,” I call out, unable to make out who it is but my voice is mute to him. He’s crawling straight toward the fire with no regard. “Hey,” I shout again but he continues to ignore me.
Taking the few steps remaining between us, I bend down and grab a hold of his shoulder.
Big fucking mistake.
His hand closes around my wrist and snaps it back as he rolls over onto his back and glares up at me.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he sneers. The pain vibrates through my whole body and blurs my vision as he snaps my wrist before releasing it. “Johnson! Rogers! Diaz!”
I blink through the pain, push my eyes to focus and take in the man before me. His eyes are blank as he continues to search frantically for the three names he calls over and over again. I think he’s in shock and for a moment I remember what it feels like. I remember pulling the trigger on my sister’s boyfriend and losing my bearings. I glance down at his cut, squinting to try to and make out the name sewn to the leather.
“Stryker,” I say, dragging his attention back to me. “Stryker, it's okay we’ll find them,” I plead, trying to soothe him.
“They were fifty yards out where the Afghan post is,” he rambles.
I’m about to answer, talk him through it when I close my eyes as the pain shoots through my wrist sending tingling sensations up my arm.
Adrianna!”
“Over here,” I whimper, tears filling my eyes. I blink through them and find Stryker staring back at me shaking his head as if he wishes he can erase what just happened.
“Shit,” he grits, taking in our surroundings, realizing he’s not overseas and the war zone we’re in the middle of has nothing to do with terrorism and everything to do with the club he’s a part of. He turns his gaze back to me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Stryker, you’re okay, man?” Pipe says, limping alongside my husband. “I’ve got to find Oksana.”
Stryker doesn’t pay Pipe any attention and continues to stare at me, averting his eyes to my wrist, he swallows.
“What happened to your arm?” Anthony asks.
I open my mouth to answer when I hear my sister’s scream echo through the devastation.
“Nikki!”
“Where are you?” Anthony shouts into the smoke, coughing as his lungs fill with dust.
“I don’t know,” she cries. “Please help! Mikey is trapped.”
“What do you see around you?” Pipe shouts.
Nikki remains silent as we start to move. I can feel Stryker’s gaze burning a hole into me but I ignore the mentally anguished veteran and wait for my sister’s reply.
“He’s trapped underneath the bar,” she calls back to us.
“This way,” Pipe instructs.
“Linc,” Stryker mutters. “He was sitting on top of the bar before the blast.”
“Is Mike conscience?” Anthony asks.
“In and out. Please help!” Her voice is frantic and my heart breaks at her plea.
“Do you see anyone else trapped?” Stryker questions over Pipe’s shoulder.
“We’ve got a problem,” Pipe announces.
Following his gaze, I see the vio
lent flames swirling in our path.
“There are two people trapped but I can’t tell who they are, one is wearing cowboy boots and the other is…oh my God,” she shrieks.
“What! What is it?” I scream back to her, watching in horror as the three men try to figure a way to get passed the flames.
“It’s a woman, but she’s all the way at the other end. I only see her shoes.”
“What color are they?” Pipe asks.
“They look red but I can’t be sure,” she chokes. “The smoke is so thick over here. Are you guys close?”
“Oksana was wearing red shoes,” Pipe says to himself, raking his fingers through his thinning hair.
“Help me with this,” Stryker orders, walking over to the metal door lying haphazardly amongst the debris. He bends his knees and grabs one end while Pipe reaches for a corner and Anthony grunts through the pain to grab the other end. The three men quickly shuffle their feet toward the fire and throw the metal door over the flames. It takes a few minutes before some of the fire is contained but not all of it.
“I need to get to my sister,” I shriek, hope diminishing inside me as I watch the flames continue to dance, separating us from saving her and Mike. “Nikki,” I cry, my body writhing with sobs as I feel Anthony slide one arm around me, pulling my back toward his chest.
“I’m going in,” Stryker announces. Before any of us can say anything he pulls his leather over his face, bows his head and charges across the metal door into the flames.
It’s my breaking point and I crumble. The sound of my sister begging Mikey to open his eyes, the fire crackling around me as I watch Stryker disappear into the amber lights. He’s one man fighting flames trying to rescue three people trapped beneath destruction. Even if he’s able to get one of them free he won’t be able to carry them through the fire to safety.
Dread fills my soul.
Panic runs through my veins.
The stench of death is heavy in the air as we become helpless to those trapped amongst the devastation.
How do you choose who lives and who dies?
How do you save everyone?
How do you live with yourself if one can’t be saved?
The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 187
