"I know, it's just," I bite my lip, hoping he doesn't take this the wrong way. "You can't save everyone, Connor. Sometimes you can only do your best in a shitty situation, and sometimes circumstances are outside of your control. I see the guilt you carry around with you and how it's eating you alive, but you don't have to keep punishing yourself for the past. You're doing your best, and that's all any of us can do, so if for whatever reason something goes wrong-"
"Don't," he growls as tension radiates off of him in waves.
"If something happens to me, I want you to know I've never been happier than these past weeks with you, and I know you did everything you could to protect me. You're doing everything you can to protect my brother and this club, even though it means nothing to you, because you're a good man. I see you, and I love you."
His jaw is tense, and he's breathing hard. "I don't think I can do this, Gigi. I can't watch you walk into that place. I can't risk you. It's killing me, baby."
Closing the distance between us, I push up onto my toes and brush my lips against his. "You're strong enough to get through this, Connor, and when it's done, we'll leave and never look back. Together."
"Make me a fucking promise right now, then. You come out of this alive. Promise me, Gigi."
I can't promise that'll happen. "I'll do everything I can to come back to you."
"Not good enough," he says, his voice like gravel, and there's really nothing else to say, so I blink back the tears in my eyes and take his hand, opening the door and leading us down to the bar.
Connor's silent at my back, but he's strong, and he'll be okay. I know nothing will get in the way of him doing everything he can to bring the other girls and me back, and I trust that he won't let me down.
Savage is in the middle of the bar when we walk in, with his officers surrounding him. Everyone wears expressions filled with promises of retribution and pain. The atmosphere is heavy as hell, and my heart rate ratchets up the closer I get to my brother. When he notices me, he looks me over like he's making sure I'm okay, and I roll my eyes.
What is it with all the men in my life thinking I'm so breakable? I've lived in a biker clubhouse forever and survived it. I'm not exactly a damsel in distress.
Saint clears his throat but motions us forward so whatever he's about to say is kept between just us. I don't think my brother wants it getting out that Connor's not actually a member of the club. "I've been talking with Sebastian," he starts, looking way too starstruck and excited for the situation, but whatever. "They were done with their setup early, and we've already got useful information coming in. One of your guys ran infrared on the building while he did a couple passes in a rental car, and from what he can tell, there are about ten guards and then smaller groups of people underground. We're assuming those are the captives."
He pulls out his phone and brings up a series of photos that he swipes through. They're clearly of a tiny shack-like house but in a rainbow of colors in the shape of bodies.
After we're done looking, he puts his phone away, and Grim steps up. "I've made sure Riff's on board with the plan, and he's clear on his role and what will happen if he deviates from it." The threat in his voice makes me shiver, and Connor squeezes my hand.
"So, when are we doing this?" I ask, realizing as I look around that none of the four original members are here with us. I guess they've decided we're on to them and to bail while they still can.
"Soon," Savage says and nods at Saint again, who grabs a printed picture off the bar top behind him.
"Sebastian hacked into a satellite feed and got us pictures of the property. We think this is the access point," he says, pointing to what looks like an old storm cellar like in the Wizard of Oz. "Right now, there are two guards stationed outside of it, and our best guess is six inside."
"That leaves two in the actual house," Connor finishes, and Saint nods.
"Is it just me, or does this feel fucked?" Savage says, looking wary. "Only ten guards for what's supposed to be a huge chunk of the Death Kings' income? Something's not right."
"We've only been watching them for half an hour," Connor says. "We should give it a few days to get a better-"
"No." Everyone shuts up when the word leaves my lips. I glare at them all and put on my best don't you fucking dare face. "We can't afford to wait. I'm not leaving Tiffany to be raped and drugged or worse in that basement. We go in now. I trust you guys to get us out."
"We need to assume there's at least twice as many guys and plan for it," Connor finally says, breaking the silence that fell after I spoke. "And we shoot to disarm, not to kill. The whole reason we're bothering to send Gigi in to get proof of what the Death Kings and your traitors are up to, is so we can cut off the fucking head of the snake. If we plan to kill them all, this whole thing is pointless."
"Fuck, he's right," Savage says, scrubbing his palm down his face. "Don't kill anyone unless you have no choice. That means tasers and tear gas with guns as a last resort. Am I clear?"
His guys murmur their agreements as he stares them down. "Good. Ruin, you're on gas masks. Make sure everyone has them fitted the right way before we leave. Grim weapons and ammo. Saint and Shadow are with me on strategy. Be ready to ride in thirty minutes," Savage orders, looking at me for that last part.
I wander around aimlessly for the entire thirty minutes. Everyone else is busy, and I've got nothing to do but overthink everything that's happening. I consider backing out a thousand times, but if I do, Savage will never feel safe enough to let me go live my life. Even though he's been in my life for years, it's never been in the family context, and now that I know who he is to me, I don't want to let him go. He's all the family I've got, and as far as I know, I'm it for him, too.
Connor's jaw is set tightly when he motions me over, and he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around me when I step into him. I take a second to breathe him in before spinning in his arms so I can face the rest of the crew. "Tell me what to do," I say, and it's probably the first time in my life I've said those words and been totally open to whatever I was about to hear.
"Riff's going to ride his bike to the shack with you on the back," Savage starts, and my eyebrows dip. Riff has his bike here?
As if sensing the question, Saint cuts in and answers. "Your boyfriend brought the bike back in his truck."
I nod, leaning back further into Connor while Savage continues outlining what to expect. "You'll have two phones on you—one in an obvious place, so when they find it, they hopefully don't think to search for another. That's how we'll communicate, assuming they don't have their shit together and take the backup."
"We're going to give you twenty-four hours," Saint picks up where my brother left off, and Connor's whole body goes stiff behind me. One glance up at his face, and I can see he hates this part. "If you can manage to escape, that'd be the best possible outcome. If you do, use the phone, and we'll pick you up once you're out. That's the best course, but it's unlikely."
Grim steps up and rolls his neck in a way that makes me think he's hoping for bloodshed. "The more likely scenario is you have a miserable twenty-four hours where they try to break you for information, they fuck with your mind, and they play with your body. If that happens, we'll repay them tenfold, but you need to prepare yourself. If we don't hear from you before the twenty-four hours are up, we're coming in, and anyone who gets in our way will regret it."
"You sure you want to do this?" Savage asks me, the look on his face hard to read. After Grim's fucked up sort of motivational speech, my legs are shaking and not in that awesome post-orgasmic way. My heart's in my throat, and I'm really starting to regret advocating for this. Maybe it would be better to set fire to the whole thing and call it good.
Except I can't let the girls go through that. There's also been no indication that any of the guys who betrayed the Reign of Chaos are there, and ultimately they pose the most threat. No, I can't walk away from this until the end.
Eventually, I nod.
Connor'
s arms tighten around me, and I know he doesn't want to let me go, but when Ruin drags a bandaged and pale Riff into the room and pushes him toward his bike, I know it's time. Saint holds out two phones for me, and I quickly familiarize myself with how to unlock them and where to find the contacts before I slip one into my back pocket and the other into the waistband of my underwear against my hip. It's the smaller of the two, and I hope I can get it through undetected. Briefly, I thought about sticking it in my bra, but that's the obvious hiding spot, and I really want to up the odds that I can hold onto it.
Knowing I can call or text Connor or my brother will make this whole thing a lot more bearable.
"Send us anything you can from inside to give us a better idea of what to expect. Anything you get, we'll save up to hand over to the police," Connor says, and I lift my eyebrows. I'm surprised my brother would've agreed to that, and based on the scowl he's currently wearing, I'm betting he's pretty pissed off about the fact he can't make an example of the traitors. Grim's standing there looking like a nightmare with a moody expression on his face looking even angrier if that's possible. How Connor got them to agree to turn everything over to the cops, I have no idea.
Saint steps up and pops an earring in my ear before I can protest. "Camera, in case they get the phone," he says, looking pleased with himself before he flicks his gaze over to Connor, and the smile drops off his face. He holds up his hands and backs away with a roll of his eyes.
"You can still back out," Connor murmurs close to my ear, turning me so my face is buried in his chest. He's crushing me against his body like he's afraid to let me go, and I'm clinging to him like it's the last thing I want to do.
But I have to, so I slowly peel myself away, leaning up to kiss him with everything I've got before I tear myself away and hurry over to Riff. The last thing I want to do is wrap my arms around him. I don't know how he's even able to ride with how messed up he looks, but I don't have a choice. This is my only somewhat believable way in, and from here on, I just have to hope my luck turns around and everything goes according to plan.
I take the helmet Riff hands me with a shaking hand and secure it before throwing my leg over the seat of his bike and settling in. He revs the engine and takes off for the highway. Tears sting my eyes, knowing I may never see the people who've come to mean so much to me again, and I can't imagine how scared Tiffany, Crystal, and Jade must be right now.
Steeling my nerves, I look back one more time to see Grim and Ruin holding a thrashing Connor back. My heart feels like it's ripping apart leaving him here, but I have faith in him. He'll come for me, and in the meantime, I have a job to do.
“How long has it been?” I snarl as I pace back and forth, recognizing in some distant part of my brain I’m being irrational and also not giving one single fuck when it comes to Gigi and whether or not she’s okay. I haven’t stopped moving since she rode out of here on the back of our fucking enemy’s bike, and I’m so far from okay I want to crawl out of my skin.
“A couple of hours,” Saint says, looking up at me from his laptop. Sebastian hooked him into the video feeds we have on the shack, and he’s been monitoring it from a table in the bar. Most everyone else bailed a long time ago, either not knowing or caring enough about what’s going on or not wanting to deal with my shitty attitude.
Again, I couldn’t give less of a fuck.
“We should’ve heard from her by now. Why the fuck did I let you assholes talk me into leaving her there for twenty-four hours? I’m going to get her now.” I’ve had enough. If she’d been able to keep her phone, she should’ve sent us something letting us know she was in and okay by now. Every second that ticked by without any sort of sign she was still alive, and that the plan worked sent me closer and closer to the edge of losing my shit.
“You’re not doing shit. Sit your ass down,” Savage snaps from behind the bar. The only people in here are me, Savage, and his officers. The death glare I give him would’ve intimidated a lesser man, but not him, so I fold my arms over my chest and clench my jaw, but I cross the room and lower myself down onto one of the stools.
He pops the top off a beer and slides it across the polished top with a smirk. “Drink up.”
I scowl at the beer, waging war with myself. The last thing I want to do is not be fully ready to spring into action in less than a second if Gigi needs me, but if I keep this up for the next twenty-two-ish hours, I’m going to be a wreck when the time comes to get her out. Reluctantly, I pick up the beer and take a sip. I’ll drink it slowly and stop at one, but hopefully, the massive amounts of adrenaline firing through my veins will slow down enough that I can take a deep breath and think rationally.
“I know it’s hard, but we have to be patient,” Savage says almost kindly, and I glare at him.
“You don’t know shit. Your sister’s been miserable here for years, and you let it go on like it was no big deal. She’s strong, and she never broke, but she was too fucking close when I got here. We should never have let her go in there, and I’m not sitting on my ass and waiting for her to come back.” My lungs are burning from how hard I’m breathing, and I really want to punch something or stab something.
Yeah, stabbing might be the better way to go.
“You done?” Savage asks with an almost bored expression that has my fingers itching to draw my knife out of my pocket.
“Not even close,” I grumble, taking another sip of my beer to give my hands and mouth something to do other than unleash the violence thrashing around inside me.
Savage sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to tell me I fucked up with Gigi; I already know. I’m trying to make it right and fix my club, so this type of shit doesn’t happen again. But first, we need to end this, and to do that, we need to have faith in her. She knows how important that proof is, and she’s stronger than I give her credit for. She’ll come through.”
My phone buzzes, and I scrape my knuckles, shoving my hand into my pocket to yank it out. There were two numbers programmed into the phone Gigi took with her—mine and Savage’s—but I have a feeling she’ll contact me first. It’s what I would do in her situation. I don’t think she fully trusts her brother yet, and after the way he handled keeping her here even after he knew the truth, I don’t blame her.
“Is it her?” Savage asks, leaning forward over the bar to try and see the screen of my phone. I’m huddled over it, scanning the message with equal parts intense relief and rage at the situation she’s in.
“She’s okay for now,” I say, breathing out a sigh of relief and trying to ignore how much my stomach is twisted up seeing the pictures she sent. There were pictures of the girls bound, metal collars connected to chains in the wall or shackles around ankles or wrists attached to the same sort of chains.
Some of the women were in cages, and it looked to me like Gigi didn’t have bars around her when she sent a selfie to show she was okay, so at least there was that. The red and swollen cheekbone on her right side is new and makes me feel homicidal, but Savage and Saint are right; my blinding rage isn’t going to help the situation, and if I want Gigi to come home safe, I need to keep my mind clear.
Sliding my phone across the bar, he picks it up and scans the messages. His jaw clenches when he sees Gigi’s selfie, but he mutters a thank fuck that I think we all agree with before passing the phone back. I upload everything she’s sent so far to my company’s cloud drive for Sebastian to compile and take a deep breath, the first one I’ve really been able to since I had to watch my little demon ride away.
I don’t bother slipping my phone back into my pocket and instead leave it on the surface of the bar so we can see when new messages come in, and they’re starting to come in regularly. There are pictures, sure, but also audio files of conversations between her captors. The Death Kings are there, but so are Bomber, Vandal, Poison, and Brutal. All four of them at the same time. They must’ve used magic or some shit to haul Poisin’s near-dead ass out to that shack in the desert be
cause he sure as fuck wasn’t getting on a bike anytime soon.
I don’t know how much evidence will be enough, so I fire off a message to Ronin to find out.
With the four of them at the house at the same time, it would be a good time to move in and grab them. My eyes flick up to Savage, who’s staring off into the distance, looking lost in thought. “You still good with turning your four traitors over to the FBI?”
Ronin’s answering text pops up, and essentially, it’s as much as she can possibly get. You can never have too much. Get lots of identification on camera if you can—names, faces. It all helps.
He shakes his head, his jaw ticking and his eyes flaring with anger. “All the Death Kings involved will be getting turned over, but Brutal, Vandal, Bomber, and Poison belong to my club. Sending them to jail would be seen as a weakness on my part, and I can’t have that.” He shifts his eyes in my direction and gives me a slightly sadistic smile that’s a clear reminder he’s earned the stitching on his left cut patch.
“No, I have to make an example of their betrayal to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m going to be making a lot of changes to the Reign of Chaos, and the brothers need to understand if they don’t like it, too fucking bad. It’s my call, and they patched in for life with the understanding that eventually leadership would change. They committed, and we don’t take that commitment lightly. You turn on us and work with our rivals, your life is forfeit.”
His words might be chilling to some of the members, but I’m in wholehearted fucking agreement with his plan. Those four assholes have more than earned their fate, and my only regret about how this is going to play out is as soon as I have Gigi back, we’re getting the fuck out of here, so I won’t be around to see it.
“You know if we go in there now, we can catch-”
“We can’t go yet, and you fucking know it, so knock your shit off. She’s fine. She’s sending messages regularly. If they stop for more than half an hour, we’ll consider going in but not until then.”
Captive: A Bodyguard Romance (Hollywood Guardians Book 1) Page 25