by Kati Wilde
Dogs without training, rumors of booby traps that aren’t there, a compound that’s really just a bunch of mobile homes on an old farm. It’s easy to spot the clubhouse in the photos—all the bikes were parked around it—but the rest of the place is littered with junkers. Real security would be cleaning that shit out so a team of three men couldn’t make their way toward the houses without exposing themselves. Instead we’ve got dozens of rusted vehicles to hide behind.
Crouched behind the tail of an old Ford, Gunner glances at me. We’re all wearing greasepaint so our faces aren’t targets in the dark. I can’t read his expression, just see the movement of his eyes. “Blowback’s running late,” he says quietly.
“Give him another minute. Having a team probably slowed him down.”
Stone huffs out a silent laugh and says, “You still got us?”
Not speaking to us but into the mic against his throat. Hashtag’s answer comes through the receiver in my ear—one of Gunner’s toys. Between him, Stone, and Blowback, we’re better equipped than I ever was during my short stint overseas.
“I’m looking into your pretty eyes now.”
Grinning, Stone flutters his eyelashes just as bright orange lights up the sky. An explosion pounds through the air. His grin drops away. “Here we go. Masks on.”
To filter out whatever toxic shit is being blown into the sky right now. I pull mine up, gritting my way past the pain in my jaw. I’ve healed enough over the last couple of days that I can take my sling off and move my arm around, but everything is still as sore as fuck.
“Holy shit!” The shout comes from the left.
Some laughter. “It’s the fucking Fourth of July all over again!”
Hashtag tells us, “Runners are coming up on your nine. They’re not looking your way.”
Because a meth house blowing due to a chemical spill or fumes building up is as expected as fleas on a stray dog. They’re simply running out to see what happened. It’s just human nature. And that nature will pull them all out into the open.
“I got eyes on Burke.”
The Eighty-Eight’s enforcer—the motherfucker who shot me and would have grabbed Jenny. God damn it. I wanted eyes on Reichmann before we start firing. Right now the Eighty-Eight are thinking it was just a chemical explosion. As soon as the first shot goes off, the whole game changes. They’ll take cover and start shooting back.
A sharp crack splits the night. The game changer. Zoomie, covering Blowback’s team. The tone of the shouting around us changes. Not just surprise but alarm.
“Red?”
“I got him.”
Another crack.
“Shit!” Hashtag says in my ear. “I just got eyes on Reichmann but he saw Burke go down. He ducked into House Nine.”
House Nine. We numbered them all on the map we made from the photos. It’s a one-bedroom northwest of us.
“Are we clear?”
“Keep low and behind the junkers. You’ll have about twenty yards from the last one to the back of the house.”
We move quick. Everyone’s still scattered, probably heading for weapons. Zoomie and Red will keep most of them from poking their heads out. We pause behind the last junker. One short sprint with no cover.
“Are we okay to go?”
“I got infrared on the house. There’s no one at the windows, but— Shit. There’s either women or kids in the bedroom on the north side of the house. I think they’re women, though. Six of them. No one real little.”
Fuck. “Is Reichmann in the same room with them?”
“No. There’s two other men in the house. They’re all in the living room. And—” He hesitates for a second. “Boss, I think the women are chained.”
Chained? Only one reason for that. The rage is quick and hot, but I make it cold. So fucking cold.
So they’re not just running meth and guns. They’re selling girls, too. And if they’d ever gotten to Jenny, there’s no fucking doubt what they’d have done after they’d finished with her. “The bedroom’s north?”
“Yeah. They’re sitting on the floor against the south interior wall. Other side is a bathroom. There’s a window in the west wall but it’s boarded up.”
I look to Stone. “If we take out those other two, Reichmann’ll go for the girls and hide behind them.”
His nod is short, his face hard. “So we’ll be quick, yeah?”
Hashtag comes in. “He must have got on the horn for help because there’s five men headed your way, coming from the north.”
The other side of the house. So we’re still covered for now.
“I’ve got the five, Red, if you want to light up the clubhouse,” Zoomie breaks in. “Blowback’s team is out and heading for the meet point.”
I look to Stone and Gunner. “And we’re heading in.”
Only twenty yards and the night around us sounds like a battlefield. Zoomie’s taking out the five Henchmen on the other side of the house but they must have grabbed cover behind more junkers, because they’re firing back. I don’t know if they can see her or if they’re just shooting into the night. A streak across the sky is one of the flares Red’s using to hit the clubhouse. Burning it all to the ground.
We’re at the house quick and get our backs against the south wall, crouching low. There’s still gunfire coming from the other side. “Zoomie?”
“Almost got ’em.” Her voice sounds strained. “And the rubber on our dick broke. I need some bleach over here.”
“You’re bleeding? How bad?”
“I’ll pull her out,” Blowback comes in.
“Back off, Jack. I’ve got these fuckers and I’ll walk out. Just bring me some goddamn bleach.” She pauses and the noise from the north suddenly quiets. “Okay. They’re down.”
“Pull her out and clean it up, Blowback,” I say. “Hashtag?”
“Two men on either side of the front door. Reichmann’s farther back in the same room. They’re all armed. Shotguns or rifles.”
“You’re sure it’s Reichmann?” Infrared doesn’t give that detailed a picture.
“I’m sure, boss. His wrist’s in a splint and his foot’s in a cast. I figure that’s because someone cut his fingers off and someone else busted his ankle.”
“Blowback can claim the ankle,” Stone says quietly. “But I’d like to point out that I got some teeth.”
From the beating that was coming to him after he touched Jenny. The fingers were Red’s.
His life is mine.
I point toward the front of the house. Immediately Stone and Gunner move out like they were sharing a brain, every step like they were two parts of one whole. They served together a long time—longer than they’ve been Riders—and don’t need words to communicate and know what they’ll each do, so they’ll go through first. They’re razors. I’m just a big fucking fist.
Long dried grass crackles under our boots. No avoiding that. It’s thick around the house. But there’s still enough shouting and dogs barking—and now engines revving in the distance—that no one inside should be able to detect the sound. There’s no lights on. Someone inside is smart enough not to stand in plain sight, then, but the second we move around to the front the glow from the clubhouse fire will let them see us.
Raising his brows, Stone looks to Gunner, who says real low, “Hashtag, are they still by the front door?”
“Affirmative.”
“Standing?”
“Yep.”
“And the girls are sitting? You double check now.”
“They are.”
Gunner looks to Stone, who shrugs. “Hold off a sec, boss,” he says, and as one they’re striding out like the two ballsiest assholes I’ve ever seen and open fire on the front of the house with two of the assault rifles from Blowback’s stash. The automatic weapons shred the upper half of the door and rip through the siding like a chainsaw. Jesus Christ. Even if the guards who were standing by the door are still alive there’s no chance they’re still upright. They’re either cowering o
r running. No doubt Reichmann’s running—but there’s only one room to hide in.
I head for the door. Stone and Gunner stop firing and are right ahead of me, sweeping through together. One of the guards is groaning on the floor, bleeding from his shoulder and his gun in hand. Gunner barely looks down, capping him with a short burst. I expect to put on my night vision lenses but there’s faint light coming from the narrow hallway now—coming through the bedroom door.
“He’s got one of the girls. Dragged her into the bathroom Looks like they’re standing in the tub and he’s got her in front of him.”
Like a shield. Shit. Eyes on the bathroom door, I point Gunner and Stone to the bedroom. “Get the others unchained and out.”
Stone nods and covers Gunner as he slips down the hall.
“Not arguing,” Red says over the radio, “but this ain’t going to be getting out of here clean. Blindfold them if you can and we’ll drop them off at the Episcopalian church in La Pine. And watch your mouths. Don’t use each other’s names now.”
Gunner flips off the bedroom light—using the night vision so that he can see but the girls can’t see him. There’s still a strip of light under the bathroom door.
Muffled shrieks come from the bedroom, shrill with terror. Gunner’s voice is low and reassuring. I cover Stone as he heads in to help.
“Does Reichmann have his weapon on the girl or the door?”
“On the door.”
A rifle or shotgun. That’s gotta be real hard to hold when one of his hands is still healing. But if I go through the door, I might be a dead man. If I shoot through the door, there might be a dead girl.
That’s not going to happen.
Bare feet slap the floor. Four women, looking terrified and holding onto each other. Stone’s carrying a fifth over his shoulder.
“I got two brothers coming out with five women. Do they have a clear path outside?”
“Yes, sir.”
I gesture for them to go. “Head to the meet point.”
Gunner hesitates. “Boss—”
“Get the fuck out.” I say it easy, but if I have to say it again, it’s going to go down real hard. “I’ve still got eyes watching my back.”
They head out. I watch the strip of light under the bathroom door. Reichmann’s got a shotgun and a gimp hand. Unless he’s using a semi-automatic, it’s going to be damn hard for him to work the action after he fires his first shot. And even if he’s got a semi-auto, he’s holding onto both a girl and the gun. The kick is going throw his aim off and if he’s not steadying it with both hands, he won’t be able to aim quickly again.
And he’s a fucking coward. He won’t hold steady. He’ll panic.
In the living room, I grab one of the guards’ phones. The screen is cracked but I don’t need to use it. Returning to the hall, I crouch low. I put the bathroom door in my sights and aim the assault rifle at the top of the frame. I’m not looking to hit anyone inside; I’m just going for the light.
The recoil jackhammers against my right shoulder and the bullets rip a hole through the drywall above the door, into the bathroom ceiling. The light winks out. Plaster dust and wood splinters rain across the hallway floor. The woman’s screaming but I can barely hear it through the ringing in my ears.
I toss the phone at the remains of the door. It hits with a thunk. An instant later, the center of the door blows apart and Reichmann’s shotgun blast booms through the house.
I’m thinking of Jenny as I charge down the hall and kick through the remains of the door. Thinking of how he had her crammed against that wall in that booth, thinking of the fear and anger on her face. Thinking of the bruises on her arm and her thigh. Thinking how she hadn’t seen him coming.
He doesn’t see me coming now. He’s dropped the pump-action shotgun and is fumbling for the blade sheathed at his waist, trying at the same time to hold onto the woman pulling away. Her tears are ghostly tracks over her cheeks through the night vision lenses.
I knock away the knife and slam my fist into his face.
That’s all it takes. His head snaps back against the tile wall and he crumples into the tub. Fifteen years ago, I killed his brother with one kick. I didn’t mean to—and I didn’t even know that he’d gone into a coma and died until the cops showed up.
I don’t know if I killed Reichmann now with that hit. But this time, I mean to. Grabbing his head, I jerk his chin around until his neck snaps.
Now I’m sure.
Jenny
There’s no moon in the sky. Only darkness outside. My heart lodged in my throat when Saxon left; the lump hasn’t moved yet. I haven’t moved either. For hours now, I’ve been sitting in window seat in my room with a burner phone in my hand. Scarecrow is standing at one of the other windows. Bottlecap’s out in the orchard, making the rounds. Uncle Thorne is downstairs.
Just in case it all goes wrong and Reichmann comes straight for me.
Light suddenly fills the window alcove. The phone. I blink against the sudden spots in front of my eyes and try to read the message. It’s from the second burner that Saxon picked up.
It’s done.
My heart clenches tight. I’m not supposed to respond. I’m just supposed to toss the phone. But I’m going to hold onto this message until he gets home.
Scarecrow pokes his head into the alcove. “That was them? Is everything all right?”
I let out a ragged breath. “I think it is.”
8
Saxon
Landauer comes by the ranch house two evenings later. Red goes out on the porch to greet him. I stay with Jenny in the kitchen, where she’s chopping tomatoes. Her dark hair’s up, so I kiss her bare nape before drawing her back against my chest. Her heart is racing.
“All right?” I ask softly and she nods.
Good. I kiss the side of her neck before grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge. I offer one to the sheriff as he comes through.
Hat in hand, he shakes his head. “Still on duty.”
I nod and open one for Jenny. Landauer looks us over. I’m pretty damn sure what he’s looking for. But the only one who walked off that compound with an injury was Zoomie—a flesh wound in her upper arm—and the women we found chained up.
I didn’t look back as I walked away from House Nine. I simply told Red to burn it down.
Landauer’s gaze settles on Jenny. “My son tells me that you’ve been showing him around your place, teaching him a little about brewing.”
“Hashtag?” Her brows shoot up. The prospect isn’t shadowing her anymore but he’s been showing up at her barn for a few hours every day. She’s already asked me if hiring him will create any conflicts within the club. “I didn’t realize he was your son.”
“His mom and I haven’t been together for a while.” He clears his throat and shifts his hat from his right hand to his left. “Anyway. He seemed real interested in what you were doing.”
She grins. “Every guy that age is interested in beer.”
“True.” His amusement tightens into a grave expression. “You probably know the reason for my visit.”
“We can guess, or you can make it real explicit,” Red says.
“You heard about those six women who showed up at that church in La Pine?”
Jenny grimaces. “I read about it this morning. Are they all okay?”
“I suppose in cases like that, ‘okay’ is relative. They’re better off than they were.” He scratches the side of his jaw but he’s watching her close. “They came off the Eighty-Eight’s farm.”
Her pink lips part in sheer surprise. Brow creasing, her gaze shoots to me, then back to Landauer. Her shock’s genuine. Red and I haven’t said a damn word about it. “They were trafficking women?” Then surprise bleeds into anger. “Women?”
“Seems like.” He shrugs. “It’s just what I hear. Like the rumors that the investigation’s going to be taken away from Deschutes County and put into federal hands. Something about them finding weapons that suggest a big c
artel was all mixed up in it, and the women saying that they thought it was law enforcement or military who came for them.”
A cartel? Jesus H. Christ. “What cartel?”
I’m not faking my surprise, either. Blowback has some goddamn giant balls, that’s for sure.
“That’s all I hear. Except for what I came to tell you about.” He looks to Jenny again. “The medical examiner just confirmed that some of the remains they found in a burned-out house belonged to Luke Reichmann.”
Her face stills. She stares at him for a long second, then her eyes fill. “Are you sure?”
“We’re sure.”
Her breath catches and shudders. The next second she’s in my arms, burying her face against my chest. “You don’t have to do it,” she whispers and her tears soak into my shirt. “You don’t have to.”
“I would have fucking liked to,” Red says, his voice hard and rough, and I don’t think he’s acting. He doesn’t resent that I did it, but he’d have liked to.
I don’t say anything. There’s no hiding my satisfaction and I’ll let Landauer make of it what he will. He’s got his suspicions but he’s got his doubts, too. But there can be absolutely no doubt that it makes me damn happy to think about Reichmann dead.
And this woman in my arms—she’s protecting me, even now. Having my back, even now. My back, her dad’s, and every one of my brothers. Crying against me, but so damn strong.
“Anyway.” Landauer dons his hat. “I just wanted to let Miss Erickson know that Reichmann won’t be bothering her again.”
She turns toward him, sniffling and shuddering and wiping her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Just fucking amazing.
Jenny
I’m reading in the window seat when Saxon comes out of the shower with just a towel around his hips. God. I let my book fall to my lap and drink in all that thick, gleaming muscle and tanned skin. He went in to get his wounds checked out today and the bandages are smaller now. Just a patch against the side of his neck and a square over the worst part of his shoulder. His dark hair’s still damp. He doesn’t have it pulled back, and the ends fall even with his strong jaw. For now, he’s been shaving instead of growing his beard back, and I can’t decide which I love more. He looks big and mean and sexy either way—and all mine.