by Dez Burke
“Sir, could I speak with you a moment?” He held up a badge and saw the fleeting thought of running on his face, but to the man’s credit, he didn’t move.
“Sure, officer. What can I do for you?” His voice was hesitant, unsure.
“I’m Sergeant Alvarez with the Dallas P.D., and I’m looking for a man I think you may know. Jace Dawson. Have you seen him recently?”
The man’s eyes darted around the group as the others approached, and he appeared quite nervous. “What is this about?”
“Sir, that’s police business. Do you know where he is or not?” He faced the man down while Morris and Resner flanked him, menacing looks on their faces.
Swallowing nervously, the guy shifted from one foot to the other. Finally, he seemed to slump. “Listen, I came here to stop someone from going after him. So if you’re here to do something other than arrest Dawson, you might want to get across the street, because there’s an angry, drunk man about to storm into his motel room and kill him and his old lady.”
Almost feeling Sterling’s panic rising, Alvarez placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her calm and still. “What is your name, sir?”
“Ron...Ron Rickman. But you want Alec Stone, who is on the verge of shooting two people, probably in the head, right across the street.”
Alvarez wasn’t stupid; he knew the man was throwing the heat off himself. At the same time, he knew the agents had already moved over to the motel in preparation. Nodding, he told Ron, “I want you to stay right here in the back of my police car until I get back to you. Do you understand? You’re not under arrest. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
“Yeah, okay...sure.” Ron replied, looking away.
Morris and Resner were already headed across the street, running as quickly as they could. Holding up his hands as if in surrender, Ron followed Alvarez to the car, climbed into the back, and waited.
“Stay back,” Alvarez called to Sterling.
But there was no way she was staying behind. “That’s my sister in there. I’m coming with you.” She was across the street just behind him before he could stop her, and she was adamant as she stayed right on his heels even as Morris and Resner positioned themselves outside the door in front of the bikes, prepared to shoot.
* * *
A loud thud had Jace on his feet in a heartbeat, wide awake and staring into the eyes of his former best friend, barely recognizable as Alec’s face fell into harsh, angry lines. The man chuckled with a sinister smile.
“Well, well, well. If it’s not the narc I’ve been hunting down.” His eyes cut to where Piper lay, the covers pulled erratically around her to cover herself, her eyes wide in the face of a gun pointed at Jace. “And his sweet new piece of ass.”
Jace held his hands up to show he wasn’t armed. “Look, Alec...I haven’t sold anyone out or betrayed anyone. If you leave now, all I want is out, and you can keep the money for yourself. I just want to walk away and have nothing else to do with the gun-running.”
“Bullshit, Dawson!” he exploded, his voice booming so loudly it made Piper cry out. “You’ve talked to the cops, asshole. You told Eli I wasn’t interested in the deal so his suppliers would shut it down! You’ve hung me out to dry, and here I thought you were my partner in all this. I had over a million coming in from this next order, half of which was headed straight to your bank account, and you had to go and fuck it all up. Did you even stop to think that if we weren’t running this operation, one of the other clubs would be banking on it? It’s just a matter of who claims the territory first.”
Jace shook his head, smelling the alcohol on Alec’s breath and recognizing the crack in the façade. “It’s not about the money or the guns, Alec. I have to walk away because I can’t watch another one of our brothers get hurt or killed. It was getting too dangerous, Alec. And just so you know, I haven’t told the cops anything yet, but the Feds are on your ass. They know what’s going on, and they’ll find you and book you with or without my help.”
Roaring wordlessly, Alec took a step toward Jace, touching the gun to his forehead. “Do you know who I’ve been relying on since you decided to turn on me? Ron, the sniveling fuck who thought he was worthy of taking your place. You screwed me over, Jace.”
Jace cast a sidelong glance toward Piper, whose lip was quivering as she fought the instinct to scream.
“You don’t want to kill me, Alec. You don’t want to hurt anyone. What about Patty? If you kill me, you’re going to prison. You’ll never make it out of this motel without getting caught, and then you’ll lose the person who cares most about you in this world.”
“Shut up, Dawson!” Pressing the gun harder against his head, Alec turned his focus to Piper. “I do want to kill you. But first, I want you to experience betrayal the way I have. Maybe I’ll have a little fun with your old lady here...give her a taste of what a real man feels like. Make you watch, son.” Keeping the gun pointed at Jace, he took a step toward the bed, his hand gripping Piper’s ankle, pulling her to the edge of the bed.
Jace swung out, trying to knock the gun out of Alec’s hand. The gun fired and Jace tackled him around the waist, knocking the gun from his hand. It slid across the floor and came to rest beneath the small table. Alec fought hard, fists flying, hitting Jace in the jaw.
“I’m going to kill you!” Alec bellowed.
Jace growled, his fist slamming into Alec’s face again and again.
Alec reached out, fingertips grazing the gun until he had it in his hand once again, and he tried to fire it at Jace, who struggled to pull it from his hand, the barrel waving back and forth between them as they fought for control.
Piper could hear the strangled breathing of the men, watched the blood streaming from Alec’s nose, a scream pouring from her lips. Frantic, she scrambled to her feet when the door to the room flew open. She instantly recognized the two agents from the hospital as they came into the room, guns drawn. She pressed herself against the wall as they focused on the two men fighting it out on the floor.
Piper heard a familiar voice call her name, and she looked around the corner to find her sister cowering in the doorway. “Sterling! Get out of here!”
The commotion was getting louder and louder, and another gun went off. Both agents hit the floor and Piper did the same until she heard a squeal of pain and realized it was her sister. Dragging the sheet with her as she crawled toward the front of the room, she saw Sterling slide down the wall, her hand covered in blood.
“Sterling, don’t move!”
Alvarez hit the door, took one look at Sterling, and aimed his gun at Jace and Alec. Alec had Jace pinned down to the floor, and the gun was slowly turning toward Jace’s chest.
“Please, no, please...” Piper prayed in a panicked whisper.
Alvarez fired his gun, and there was a split second of chaos before everything froze. Jace cursed, Alec grunted, and Piper knew she’d let out a cry of her own, fearing the worst as both men on the floor went stock still. Morris and Resner were on their feet and pulled Alec away from Jace as Piper watched in horror, seeing blood on both of them and trying to decipher whose blood it was.
When Jace sat up, the wave of relief was so strong she couldn’t stop the instantaneous tears from flowing. Wiping a streak of blood from his face, he glared at Alec, who hung limp from the two agents’ arms, before he moved over to Piper, pulling her into his arms, holding her tighter than he ever had before.
She squeezed his shoulders, noticing cuts, scrapes, and what she knew would later become bruises, but he seemed to be okay and she cried out in relief.
“I was so afraid I’d lose you...”
Jace kissed her forehead tenderly, his strong arms wrapping around her, protecting her.
“I know...but I’m okay. I love you, Piper.”
“I love you, too.”
Jace let out a deep breath, exhaustion settling in. “You should go check on your sister. Make sure she’s okay.”
Piper nodded before moving to where St
erling rested, her back propped against the wall as she winced in pain from the wild bullet that seemed, upon closer inspection, to have grazed her arm, skimming it rather than going through.
“It burns like hell,” she laughed as Piper inspected the wound and tore the bed sheet to make a tourniquet for it.
Piper offered her a wavering smile. “I’m sure it does, but it could have been a lot worse. What the hell were you thinking coming here? You could have been killed.”
“I could say the same thing to you!” she countered, hissing as Piper tied the cloth tightly around the wound. “You should have just told me where you were and what was going on. You should have trusted me.”
Piper nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “I know...I’m sorry, Sterling.”
Sterling smiled weakly, her head resting on the wall behind her. “Just don’t ever do it again.”
Piper smiled and then turned to the agents, who knelt next to Alec. “I can help him.”
Morris looked at her with surprise before shaking his head. “I called the paramedics. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
She nodded as she grabbed her backpack and headed to the bathroom where Jace was waiting. Inside, she collapsed against his chest, the tension leaving her body as his arms enveloped her in a comforting embrace.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him, her voice muffled with her lips pressed to his skin.
“I’m fine, baby.” He caressed her hair before pulling her back so he could plant a reassuring kiss on her lips. “We’re going to be okay. Alec’s going to the hospital, then to jail, and with him out of the picture, no one else in the club will have the balls to come after me. Everything’s going to be just fine, Piper.” He ran his fingers through her hair and felt a shiver flutter down her spine. “Get dressed so we can get back out there. You need to be with your sister until the ambulance gets here.”
Nodding, she did as he told her to. She waited with her sister until the paramedics arrived and lifted her into the ambulance.
“You’re going to be just fine, sis.” Piper kissed her sister on the cheek before jumping down from the ambulance. She made her way back to Jace, who wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.
“We’ve got Alec on breaking and entering, attempted murder, illegal possession of a firearm, and there will likely be a ton of other charges when this all comes out, even before the gun smuggling charges are laid. When we present the evidence that he’s a threat to you and tell the judge it’s going to take a few days to get you locked down somewhere safe, he won’t make bail, and no one’s going to be allowed in his hospital room except law enforcement. You’re safe now.”
Jace nodded, patting the agent on the shoulder. “Thanks, Resner.”
Gathering his things, he guided Piper out the door and over to where his bike stood in the darkness of the night. “Let’s go to my place.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, we can get a cop posted outside the door.” Jace smiled that incredibly sexy lopsided grin that took Piper’s breath away. “I just want to get you in my bed.” His arms went around her and he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her with heated demand, a kiss of love and promise that went straight to her heart.
“There’s plenty of time for that,” she laughed, burying her hands in his hair. “Because I don’t plan to leave your side.”
His hands stroked lovingly over her back and she could feel his heartbeat against her chest.
“Good, because I don’t plan to ever let you go.” The words blew quietly across her forehead, his voice soothing as he tightened his hold on her. He brushed her hair from her face, kissing her long and deep, his hands holding hers, promising to never let go. When he finally broke away, she saw that there were unshed tears swimming in his eyes.
“Let’s get out of here.”
He swung a leg over his bike, revving it as she climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Before long they were cruising down the highway, the warm night air fueling their senses, and for the first time in a long time they felt truly free.
About the Author: Adriana Hunter
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Canadian author Adriana Hunter writes contemporary and paranormal romance stories that feature irresistibly powerful alpha heroes and beautifully curvy heroines.
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Prologue
The trick to lying flat on the ground was to relax. Too tense could get you killed. If your back was too straight, that wasn't any good either. You'd be creating this tiniest amount of space between your spine and the floor. That space could be your COD if you had a drunk dad like mine. A former bike racer, my dad liked to perform stunts in our yard. One of his favorites was to run over me while I was lying on the ground. Shows off my perfect control, he liked to say in his usually slurred voice.
Another trick was to cut your hair short, like I did. Sometimes, that one strand of hair could get tangled in the wheels. It happened to me when I was thirteen. That was the first year James took it upon himself to use me as a prop for his DIY motorcycle stunts. It was an epic fail and got me ten stitches below my hairline. I chopped my own hair after that. Good thing I did since a week later we were doing it again.
Finally, you needed duct tape.
“Where the fuck are you?” James roared from the garage.
“Coming,” I shouted back. My hands worked more quickly in wrapping the duct tape around my chest. My boobs barely existed, to be honest. But with stunts like this, even A-cups like mine were still suicidal. You had to be flat. Inhumanly flat.
Pulling my shirt down over my handiwork, I ran out of the garage. My dad was already on his bike, the engine running. The sound of it was enough to make goose bumps pop all over my skin.
“I’m not going to wait forever,” my dad snarled.
His voice caused me to stumble. The drawing on the ground, outlined in chalk, never failed to make me wince. That was where I was supposed to lie down.
Kneeling down, I said a quick prayer. If I die today, God, please let it be quick.
James gunned towards me, the roar of his old Harley Davidson making me scramble. He did say he wasn’t going to wait forever. Terror licked its way all over my body as I forced myself to relax on the ground. The sound of his motorcycle was so close. James was running circles all around me now, taunting me to move. If I did, that was when he’d fly over me.
Vroom, vroom.
Little boys made that sound all the time, and every time they did I wanted to cry.
“Ready?” James asked with a sneer and a laugh.
I didn’t speak. I knew if I did, he’d love to have the chance to cut my tongue with his bike.
Vroom, vroom.
I badly wanted to close my eyes but couldn’t -—I always had this powerful fear that having the lids folded over my eyes took me one extra fraction of an inch closer to death.
So close now. Dear God, it was so close.
And then he was flying, so close that I could feel the air coming from the furious spin of his bike�
��s wheels as he soared over my body.
SWISH.
I wondered if that would really be the last sound I’d hear before I died.
****
It always took me forty-five minutes to stop throwing up.
No need for stitches today, but I did have a little discoloration on my cheek. James didn’t enjoy our father-daughter moments when there was no violence involved.
By the time I was done with my puke fest, the world had stopped spinning as well. The sound of a motorcycle whizzing past me had also stopped roaring in my ears. I pressed my hand to my chest, just to be sure I wasn’t suffering from PTSD. Shock, if left untreated, could get you killed.
A sigh of relief escaped me as I felt my heartbeat slowing down. My brain had finally accepted I wasn’t going to die. Not today at least.
Forcing myself on my feet, I grabbed my SLR from the table. It was my only prized possession. When I was looking through the lens of my camera, the world didn’t seem so bad or ugly. I liked the feeling of power it gave me. Adjust the brightness, sharpen the contrast, and find a unique angle – click. I had found a piece of world that was beautiful, and that moment would last forever.
Pressing my ear to the door, I listened for sounds of movement, any indication that James was still up. There was none. But I didn’t want to take my chances so I decided to use my other exit.
Jumping from a second-floor room window took guts when you had nothing to hold on to. But it wasn’t impossible. The first time got me a broken arm. The second time produced a twisted ankle. But nowadays, all I had were gashes, which were fine. I liked gashes. They kept me alive.
Thud.
I landed awkwardly on my side. I checked myself for wounds and saw I had grazed my elbow. The tiny rip of skin started to bleed.
Money shot!
I lifted my camera and turned my elbow out even as I winced at the effort.
Click.
That should earn me another fifty.
I belatedly remembered the slap James gave me and, twisting my face to the side, I lifted my SLR in the air for several selfies. I hoped one of those got a good shot of the discoloration on my cheek. You wouldn’t believe how much money gore shots made me on the Internet. You just needed to find out where to sell them.