Savoring Mila (Angels Halo MC Next Gen & Rockers' Legacy Book 3)

by Terri Anne Browning

“Meaning she would have if they hadn’t?” I demanded. The thought of Mila being in the kind of situation where she would have to fight was making me sick to my stomach. It brought home just how much danger she and the babies were in, and I wasn’t fucking there to protect them.

  “She and Monroe have both been taught how to defend themselves should something like this happen. The only reason they wouldn’t, especially Mila, is if there was a gun involved.” Raven bent to look at the screen better. “Can you enhance this and try to focus on the guy behind Monroe?”

  “This piece of shit is ancient,” Ben told her. “We’re lucky to get what we did.” Grabbing the radio attached to his belt, he issued a BOLO for the sedan. “Alert the California and Oregon State Police to let them know to be on the lookout as well,” he told his dispatcher. “Tell them to use extreme caution if they engage the driver. Both women are pregnant.”

  “Got it, Sheriff,” the woman confirmed.

  “Could this be a ransom situation?” I asked Ben.

  “If this is Fontana, or has anything to do with that motherfucker, then no. I doubt this is about money.”

  Frustrated, I raked my fingers through my hair. “Who the fuck is Fontana?” I bellowed. Lexa had mentioned him earlier but hadn’t told me who the hell he was.

  “Gian Fontana’s father gave Lexa her scar,” Raven told me, her voice ice-cold. “A few years back, Gian’s adoptive father tried to take Lexa and give her to him. Before his untimely and oh-so-tragic death that night, Santino was the top sex trafficker in the US.” She inhaled sharply, her olive-green eyes full of steel when they met mine. “We assume Gian inherited all of that as Santino’s adopted son, but he went silent. There has been very little noise from his compound, and he’s rarely even been seen.”

  “Lexa said Monroe told her she’s in love with this guy,” I told her.

  “She told me that too when she called me,” she confirmed. “Apparently, from what Monroe told Lexa, Gian has been protecting Mon for years.”

  “Protecting her, how?” I demanded, not understanding what the hell she was talking about.

  She sighed heavily and opened the door. “That doesn’t matter,” she said as she started walking down the hall toward the front of the café. I followed, and she kept talking. “I don’t think Fontana is behind taking them. If what Lexa said is true, he never would have held a gun to Monroe. And I doubt he would let anyone else do so either.”

  Outside, Masterson and the other MC brothers quickly gathered around us. Dad stayed to the back of the group, but he met my gaze over the heads of some of the brothers, telling me with a look that he was there if I needed him.

  “I think we’re dealing with one of Fontana’s enemies,” Raven told them, causing Masterson to curse viciously. “If that’s the case, they are going to go as far north as they can to stay out of his territory.”

  “Yeah, but they could head east too,” Ben spoke up. “If we’re going to go after them, I suggest spitting up.”

  “I’m going north,” Masterson said.

  Bash split the MC brothers into two groups, but when Masterson got on his motorcycle and took off before anyone else had even moved, I jumped in the driver’s seat of Dad’s SUV. Dad barely got in before I was peeling out of the parking lot after him.

  “Calm down,” Dad ordered. “You’re not going to be any use to that girl if you kill yourself on the drive to get to her.”

  “Fuck, Dad!” I hit the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. “I think I’m going to lose my mind.”

  His heavy hand fell on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, son. We’ll find her.”

  “If anything happens to her or the babies…” I blinked back the sting of tears, refusing to let them slow me down.

  “I know, Lyric. Believe me, I know. Just stay calm. We’ll get to them.”

  We drove and drove for hours, but the guys in the sedan already had a good three hours on us. They could have been anywhere with that much time between us, and we didn’t even know where to look.

  Two and a half hours into the drive, Dad’s phone rang. The SUV was a rental, and the phone wasn’t connected to the Bluetooth, so he hit the speaker option when he answered. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Ben.” The sheriff’s voice filled the vehicle. “Oregon State Police found the car.”

  “Where?” I demanded.

  He gave the location, and I realized we were only about half an hour from where the sedan had been spotted. “The car was easy to find because the fucking thing was on fire,” Ben continued, and I swerved as images of Mila in a burning car stole the air from my chest. “No one was inside. My guess is they switched vehicles. OSP is calling in all their off-duty officers and starting a statewide manhunt. I am about an hour behind you right now.”

  After we hung up, I quickly passed Masterson on the road and hauled ass to where Ben said the car had been left. Masterson must have realized I knew where I was going because he didn’t try to pass me, and instead followed me to where a fire truck was still parked.

  The sedan was just a melted frame. Four state police cars were parked around the crime scene. Throwing the SUV into park, I jumped out and rushed toward the first police officer I spotted.

  The man held up his hands as I approached. “This is a crime scene,” he barked.

  “My fiancée is one of the two women missing,” I told him. “Tell me everything you know.”

  “I can’t give you details of an open investigation,” he said coldly.

  Dad was already behind me, his phone out. Seconds later, he thrust the phone into the officer’s hands, and I assumed it was Ben on the other end.

  “We found tracks heading north,” the cop informed Ben just as Masterson turned off his motorcycle. “We have reason to believe…” He broke off when Masterson stomped toward him.

  I caught Mila’s dad around the waist when he went to grab at the cop. “Take it easy. He was giving Ben details until you stormed over here.”

  “He will fucking tell me everything he knows, or I’ll break his goddamn neck,” he snarled.

  I shoved him back and got in his space. “You are going to calm the fuck down so I can find out where Mila is, or I will knock your ass out here and now.” I shoved him back again when he tried to go around me, and I knew he could have reached for his gun at any moment, but I was beyond caring. He was slowing down getting to Mila and Monroe, and I would put his ass in the ground before I let him cost us another minute. “I know this is driving you crazy. I’m barely holding on as it is. But you aren’t helping anyone, least of all your girls, by acting like a fucking animal right now.”

  He inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. With a jerky nod, he let me know he was going to be calm, and I turned around to face the cop again. While I’d been dealing with the raging Angel, Dad had been listening to the cop finish telling Ben everything they knew.

  Pocketing his phone, Dad faced us. “They have a lead on where they might have gone. I’m driving.” Dad looked at Masterson. “I think you should ride with us.”

  “I can get there faster on the—”

  “Faster doesn’t mean shit,” Dad told him. “You need to get there alive, man. I saw you driving earlier. You are just as wired as Lyric, and you were all over the place. Get in the vehicle. I’ll get you to your daughters in one piece.”

  Chapter 22

  Mila

  My sister’s sobs pulled me back to reality.

  “Mila,” she pleaded in a voice choked with tears and fear. “Mila, please wake up.”

  I felt a slight sting to my cheek, and my lashes slowly started to lift. Moaning, I was finally able to focus on her face. “Mon?” I muttered, my head throbbing. “What’s wrong?”

  But as soon as I saw her tearstained face, the pain and stark fear in her eyes, I remembered everything. I sat up and glanced around.

  We were in a room I didn’t recognize. I was on a bed, but there were no pillows, blankets, or even a sheet on the mattress. The worn old
springs were biting into my legs and ass. The overhead light was on, showing me the rest of the space with ease, but other than the stained walls, there was nothing else in the room. No other furniture except the bed we were on, no windows, and a single door.

  “You’ve been out for hours, I think,” Monroe said, her face twisting with discomfort as she shifted on her knees beside me.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked, reaching out to touch a hand to her lower abdomen.

  “I’m still cramping. And I checked once they left us alone in here. I’m spotting, but it’s not as bad as I thought.” She shifted again, trying to find a position where the springs didn’t dig into her flesh. “I was worried about you. I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.”

  “Did they try to hurt you while I was out?” I asked, glancing at the door. Other than the sound of our breathing, I didn’t hear anything outside the door.

  “I think the guy who was driving wants to, but the other guy wouldn’t let him.” She wrapped her fingers around the medallion hanging from her necklace. “He’s not coming, is he?” she asked, her chin trembling. “He…He really did abandon me.”

  I pulled her head to my chest and kissed her brow. “I’m sorry, Mon.”

  “I was stupid to think we could make this work. He obviously got what he wanted from me. I was the one dumb enough to think it meant he actually loved me.” Scrubbing her hands angrily over her tear-streaked face, she lifted her head, determination filling her damp eyes. “We have to get out of here.”

  “Right there with you, baby sis.” I stood slowly, testing the waters on if I was dizzy or not. When my vision stayed the same and I didn’t feel the earth tilt, I walked to the door and tried the handle.

  Of course, it was locked. Pressing my ear to the door, I tried to listen for any activity on the other side. I didn’t hear anything, though, not even either of the men coughing.

  “Have you heard anything while I was out?” I whispered to Monroe.

  “No. The driver carried you in here, and the other guy made him leave. Then he shut the door, and I heard the lock click from the other side.”

  I walked over to the opposite wall and pressed my ear to it, hoping to hear anything from outside. Straining my ears, I tried to listen for any sign that could tell us where we were. Running water, birds, the wind, or my biggest hope—traffic. But there was nothing.

  Keeping my ear against the wall, I waited for a good ten minutes before I thought I heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance. As I stood there, the sound got louder, more distinct. Whoever it was, they were speeding like a bat out of hell and coming right toward us.

  Moments later, the vehicle stopped, and I heard three doors slam shut. I pounded my fist against the wall. “Hey!” I shouted. “Hey, let us out of here!”

  Monroe came over and knocked her fist against the wall too. “Help!” she yelled. “Someone, help us!”

  “Mila!” a voice I knew and loved bellowed. “Mila, I’m coming,” Lyric promised.

  My heart quickened, and I grabbed Monroe’s hand. “They came for us,” I told her.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she smiled. “We’re going home.”

  But even as she said it, the sound of bullets came from the other side of the house. I felt all the blood drain from my face when I heard someone shout in pain, followed by more gunfire.

  Heavy, running feet sounded outside the door of our room, and then it was pushed open. The driver ran in, his eyes manic. I pushed Monroe behind me, because his eyes were on her.

  A backhand to my face sent me flying. I reached out, catching myself on the bed before I hit the floor. Monroe cried out in pain when he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the room, but he left the door open.

  Stumbling to my feet, I ran after them. I had no idea how I would help my sister, but I knew I needed to at least try.

  The house seemed to be one level, and the layout was pretty open from the quick look I got of the place. There was a couch in the living room and a beat-up old coffee table in front of it. Empty pizza boxes littered it, along with beer and soda cans. And right on top of one of the boxes lay a Glock.

  I grabbed it, checking the magazine to make sure there were bullets in it. Taking off the safety, I ran out the door just as I heard Monroe scream in pain.

  The guy was still dragging her by the hair, but she’d fallen and was on her hands and knees as he pressed his gun to her temple while still backing toward a car I didn’t recognize.

  “Let her go,” Jesse Thornton commanded, and I blinked when I realized he was holding a gun, pointed right at Monroe’s captor.

  The guy spat something in Italian, and Monroe only screamed again, sobbing as she tried to get to her feet.

  “Mila.” I jerked at the sound of my name and, turning my head, saw Lyric on the other side of the car. He was holding his arm, and my heart stopped. “Baby, run,” he begged. “Get out of here.”

  I shook my head, tears burning my eyes. Was he shot? Oh God, no. I couldn’t stand it if he was hurt.

  “Mila!” I heard Dad’s voice but couldn’t see him. Lyric looked down beside him, and I realized Dad must have been behind the car with him. “Go!”

  “Not without Monroe,” I told them. There was no way I was leaving without my other half. They could get mad all they wanted, but I wasn’t leaving her behind. Ever.

  “Mila.” Jesse’s voice was softer, oddly calm, seeing as he was pointing a gun at some stranger. “I need you to back up into the house, honey. I don’t want one of these bullets accidentally hitting you or one of my grandbabies. Okay, sweetheart?”

  The guy raged again and lifted his gun, pointing it right at me. Out of instinct, I lifted my own, ready to pull the trigger, but before I could, two rounds went off.

  The guy holding Monroe by the hair dropped to his knees before falling lifelessly onto his face. My sister started screaming, crawling backward from the dead body, and I just stood there, looking in utter awe at the man who was going to be my father-in-law.

  The gun dropped out of Jesse’s hand, and he frowned down at the dead body as if he couldn’t believe he was responsible for taking someone’s life.

  Lyric bent, and when he reappeared, he was helping Dad. There was blood pouring from Dad’s right shoulder and left leg. Lyric seemed to be taking most of his weight as he half carried, half dragged Dad around the side of the car.

  When they reached Monroe, Dad dropped down beside her and pulled her into his arms, trying to soothe her. Lyric, holding his arm once again, ran over to me.

  Before he could wrap his arms around me, I dropped my gun and grabbed his injured arm. “Were you shot?” I cried.

  “Yeah,” he said like it didn’t matter, like he didn’t have a hole in his fucking arm right then and was bleeding all over the place. He wrapped his arms around me, his lips touching every part of my face and neck he could reach. “Are you okay?” he asked in a raspy voice. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “I’m okay,” I tried to reassure him, but I wasn’t sure he heard me because his hands were skimming over my entire body, feeling for injuries. When he looked at my face, his eyes narrowed. “You have a bruise here,” he said, touching my jaw with fingers that shook.

  Grimacing in pain at the soft touch, I pulled my head back. “It’s nothing. We need to get Monroe to a hospital. She was cramping earlier and spotting. And you have a gunshot wound. How much pain are you in?”

  “Babe, I’m fine. Your dad needs a doctor, though. He took one to his shoulder and one in the thigh.” Lifting me, he carried me to the SUV and placed me in the back seat. “Stay here. I’ll get everyone.”

  The closest hospital was over ten miles away. Lyric had to drive because his dad seemed to be in shock as he sat mutely in the front passenger seat. But by the time we got to the hospital, Jesse was finally snapping out of it. He helped me out of the back while Lyric assisted Dad into a wheelchair and then lifted Monroe into his arms.

  Jesse wheeled
Dad inside behind Lyric, who was already yelling for assistance.

  A team of doctors and nurses came out. One doctor wheeled Dad to the back, telling a nurse to alert the operating room. Another rushed Monroe into an exam room, calling for blood work and an ultrasound. Moments later, Lyric swept me up into his arms and followed another doctor into another exam room where the man in the white coat shone his light in my eyes.

  I muttered an oath and kicked out instinctively. “Back off,” I snapped at the man. “I’m fine.”

  “You have a concussion,” he said with what sounded like amusement in his voice. “That’s a hell of a bruise you got there. How did you obtain it?”

  “Someone hit me,” I told him and heard Lyric curse under his breath.

  The door opened again, and Jesse came in. “Mila, honey, Monroe is crying for you.”

  I pushed the doctor out of my way and would have run out of the room if Lyric hadn’t caught me around the waist. Lifting me into his arms once again, he gave me a glare, but he carried me to where my sister was. I was all too happy to let him carry me. When his arms were around me, holding me close and protectively against him, I wasn’t scared—and I’d been scared enough that day to last me a lifetime.

  Monroe was lying on a gurney in the exam room next door. A nurse was already getting her blood work labeled and putting an IV into her arm at the same time. Seeing me, my sister held out her free hand, her tears silently begging me not to leave her as they spilled down her cheeks.

  “Where’s Daddy?” she sobbed. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Of course he is,” I told her, praying I wasn’t lying to her.

  “He’s going up to surgery now,” the nurse told us as she put tape over the IV site, securing it in place. “Don’t worry, dears. We’ll take good care of your father.”

  The nurse left, and it seemed like the door had barely closed behind her when the ultrasound tech walked in. Jesse moved out of the way, and Lyric had to set me on my feet to make room for the machine.

  I stood on one side of my sister’s bed as the tech got to work. Minutes passed, and then the room finally filled with the sound of a strong heartbeat. “Baby looks to be doing well,” the fortysomething woman in pink scrubs informed us with a comforting smile. “I’ll get out of the way so the doctor can come in and take care of you.” She printed off a picture of the ultrasound and handed it over to Monroe. “Good luck, sweetie.”