A couple of gunshots popped, but nothing hit me so I kept running. Kept my gun gripped tight as I focused on the path leading me to that pool of light. To the two shadows firing at me. As I reached a slightly steeper part of the hill, I dropped and rolled, coming back up in a kneel and raising my gun. One shot was all it took to drop Tiny. Wolf, on the other hand, had the self-preservation instincts to run. To try to escape me once again. Not today. Not again. Not my family.
But Wolf made it to his bike. He started that engine and gunned the motor, throwing gravel from under the rear tire as he pulled a tight turn. No way could I make it in time. No way would I be able to hit that target. I was losing him, and as much as one side of my brain said I needed to chase him down, the other refused to let me. Mercy and Beckett were in that house. They had to be my priority, which meant Wolf would escape again.
And, for once, I was okay with that.
“Fuck,” I said, breathing hard. Coming to a stop before Wolf even made it up the driveway. But I had angels on my side—or at least a really good shot in the form of a vigilante sheriff’s deputy. Zane jumped up onto a rock and took a shooter’s stance—legs spread and braced, both arms holding one hell of a pistol, and eyes locked on his target. Three shots fired in quick succession sounded through the night, but his mark fell. Wolf was down.
That fact didn’t bring me the joy or relief it should have.
Elijah strolled up behind us, clapping. “That was an excellent show.”
Zane took a bow from his spot on the rock. “Better than Hamilton?”
“Nothing is better than Hamilton.”
Jesus, those two were another Deacon and Alder. And I didn’t have time for any of this. “You two finished now? Because there are people trapped inside that house who are likely scared.”
“Right.” Zane hopped down and hurried over to the rest of us. “Plan?”
“He’s your mark,” Deacon said, nodding toward Wolf. “You make the call.”
But I was already moving in the opposite direction. “Someone else deal with them. I want to get my family out of there.”
I stalked into the cabin, throwing open the door and letting it slam into the wall behind it. I didn’t even think to holler for Mercy, just immediately began searching her out. Hunting through the space like a dog on a scent. Single-minded in my task.
The cabin was a bit of that open concept thing I saw on television—big living spaces linked together without walls. Not the kind of place to hold someone prisoner. One door off the back hallway sat closed, which was the one I headed for. They had to be in there. Had to be. The door was locked when I reached it, but that certainly wasn’t going to stop me. I took a step back then rushed forward, growling through my shouldering of the door. Thankful as fuck when the thing gave beneath my weight.
And then falling to the floor as something hard and heavy slammed into the side of my head.
“Run, Beckett.”
Mercy’s sweet voice kept me conscious, and I reached out a hand into the dark. “Beauty. Wait.”
There was a pause, then a shuffling of feet before light stabbed me right in the eye sockets. Motherfucker, that hurt.
“Parris?” My beauty appeared above me, looking pale and so damn scared that I wanted to rage against the world for putting that expression on her face. Once my head stopped pounding. “Oh my God, I thought you were that guy.”
“Mister Parris!” Beckett jumped on me, not helping my head but easing something inside my chest. Making the perfect object to hug to my body. “I prayed that you’d show up.”
“Then I’m glad I made it, little man.” I sat up, taking Beckett with me, bringing a hand to my head and pulling it away to find blood on my fingertips. “What the hell hit me?”
Mercy shrugged, holding up a cast iron skillet. “I did.”
Okay. That actually made sense. “You’ve got a good arm.”
“Yeah, well…I wasn’t staying in the house a second longer.”
“Brave woman.” I rose to my feet, wobbly but still holding Beckett in my arms. Gripping her hand and tugging her along behind me as I led the way through the hall. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Mercy resisted, though. “Sam’s in there,”
The glassblower. Her friend and someone she worked with. Yup, he needed saving too. Just not by me.
“Someone else will get him. I want you two out of here. Now.” There was no way I was stopping. No way I was letting her spend another second more than absolutely necessary in that house. Gas cans and fires and what could have happened had I been just an hour later swirled through my mind, bringing out my protective side even more than usual. No, we weren’t sticking around. I didn’t care who was still inside.
Mercy squeezed my hand and stopped trying to hold me back, keeping close to my side. “Good plan.”
Yeah, it was. Escaping alive was always a good plan.
I carried out Beckett with my arm firmly wrapped around Mercy as well. I couldn’t let go of either of them, couldn’t put an inch of space between us. Tiny and Wolf—they had been prepared to burn my family. If Zane hadn’t been there, if Deacon and I hadn’t been close, if anything had gone wrong… I would have lost them both. I really wished I could kill those fuckers all over again.
“Zane,” I hollered before I even left the porch. “There’s a man inside—looks like he needs medical care.”
The lawman took a solid look from me to Beckett and then to Mercy, his face expressionless, his reaction unreadable. “I’ll take care of him.”
Mercy’s gait stuttered, but I pushed her along, leaning down to whisper, “He means he’ll take Sam to the hospital. Not any other kind of take care of.”
She nodded, silent, her steps fast and her body trembling. I needed to get her out of here, needed to take her home. Sadly, I had a crew of men who were unwittingly in my way.
“You two okay?” Deacon asked as he came up beside me, not putting himself in our path.
Mercy huddled against my chest, still not speaking. I gave Deacon a look that I really hoped said Leave them the fuck alone, one he apparently recognized because he nodded once then slowed down. No longer keeping pace with us.
“I’ll be calling in Gage for cleanup,” he said, before raising his voice. “Hey, Elijah, you know how to ride a motorcycle?”
Elijah walked closer, frowning. “Yeah, I do. Why?”
“Parris needs to take his family back to town.”
My heart jumped, and something close to a primal urge to mark territory and protect my den surged through me. My family—damn right, it was, and I would do anything to protect them. Including leave my bike up in the woods and let the fucker rot. Let Elijah drive it down to Justice—it didn’t even matter at the moment.
“I can take care of it,” Elijah responded.
“Anything else, Parris?” Deacon asked.
If I weren’t so torn up inside, my emotions roiling from rage to relief to terror again, I would have laughed. “Do you really think we need to take care of more stuff today?”
Deacon chuckled. “Nope. I think we’ve covered just about everything.”
Elijah nodded, suddenly looking a number of years older than even me. “It’s been a long fucking day.”
It had, and there was always more to do. Like telling Cartel to fuck off. Like walking away from not just the Vegas chapter of the Black Angels, but the entire club. Fuck my nomad patch. They’d tried to take out my girl and her son, two innocents. Two people who deserved so much better than espionage and drugs and being targeted just because they were important to me. They deserved to get all of me, not just the part left over after what the club took.
Yeah, there was a lot of shit to do still. Just not tonight.
Mercy’s SUV sat under the glow of a large halogen light, looking like pure heaven after the last few hours. I led us straight there, helping her into the passenger seat before buckling Beckett into his booster seat. That didn’t work, though, because Beckett whimpere
d and reached for his mom, which had Mercy turning in her seat as she tried to soothe her son. Fuck, I couldn’t separate them. I yanked open Mercy’s door and pulled her out of the seat, racing her around the vehicle without a word. Not caring that she seemed even more upset at being farther away from Beckett. That was fine—it was temporary. Within seconds, I had her on the other side of the car and was popping her into the back seat so she could stay close to Beckett.
“You good?” I asked, leaning into the cab and looking from one to the other. “You need anything else before we go?”
Mercy shook her head, clinging to Beckett’s hand as he appeared to doze. That kid was about to knock out. Good. Sleep off the bad stuff and start tomorrow fresh.
“All right, then.” I tapped the roof of the SUV and shut the door, ready to drive them home, but Deacon stood in my way. “What?”
“They okay?” he asked, his voice restrained. Quiet. Not wanting anyone inside to hear him.
“They will be.”
He nodded, glancing over my shoulder. “Keys are still in the ignition. Zane will follow you into town. Gage is already sweeping Main Street to make sure you’re clear to get them inside. Once you’re secure, we’ll move on medical for Sam and clean up.”
“The glassblower going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “A little dehydrated, a little beat-up, but he’s a tough old coot. He’ll be just fine.”
“Good.” I grabbed the handle of the driver’s door, ready to end this. Unable to calm my racing heart. Not yet. Not until I had Mercy and Beckett back home. Until I had locked doors between them and the outside world. Maybe then I could breathe again.
“Hey, Parris?” Deacon stepped closer, keeping me from opening the door. “It wasn’t a kill shot.”
One of our two targets hadn’t died from his wounds. Not yet.
I clenched my hand into a fist. “Which one?”
But I knew…of course, I knew. No way could it not be the man I’d been hunting for so long. No way could my past not be coming to bite my ass when I needed to focus on Mercy and Beckett. No way had killing the man who’d murdered my sister been that easy.
“Wolf,” Deacon said, confirming my assumption. “Zane didn’t get the kill shot. He’s incapacitated, but he’s technically not dead yet.” The sniper ran a hand over this face, looking tired beyond reason. “Do you want to handle him? He seemed awfully important to you.”
He had been. I’d chased the man for years, had been hunting him for almost as long as Beckett had been alive. I’d gone to jail because of him. Lost the last member of my biological family because of him. I was about to answer, but Mercy’s drawn face turned toward the door, her red-rimmed eyes meeting mine through the glass. The woman looked exhausted and in need of something we wouldn’t find on that mountain, something I couldn’t give her if I were out there torturing Wolf.
She needed me to be better than my past, which meant putting her and her son first.
“Just take care of him,” I said, knowing this was the most anti-climactic ending to my story possible. But that didn’t mean it was the wrong ending. “So long as he’s dead, I’m good.”
“Understood.” Deacon stepped back, giving me plenty of room to hop into the driver’s seat. “Drive safely.”
I glanced into the back seat, taking in a sleeping Beckett and an exhausted Mercy. Understanding my role in this moment.
“I will. I’ve got precious cargo.”
Chapter Twenty
MERCY
PARRIS DROVE us down the mountain, another truck following close enough behind us for me to see his lights the entire way. I still couldn’t believe what had happened, couldn’t wrap my head around what we’d been through. From that first moment of fear at seeing the knife at Beckett’s throat—which was an image I’d never be able to scrub from my brain—to finding Sam inside the room and being clueless as to how to help him. To waiting in the dark for something, anything, to happen so I could take my shot at getting us out of there. To whacking Parris upside the head with a pan. This whole day had been shit, and I just wanted it to end.
I wanted all of this to end. Justice—the bikers—the fear and constant being on guard. None of this was normal. None of this was what Beckett should have been exposed to. He wasn’t safe, especially not around the man at the wheel.
“So, this is it?” I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to wake my boy. “Is the whole battle with the Soul Suckers thing over?”
Parris didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What do you mean?”
“You said you wouldn’t be back until you’d cleaned a few things up. Are you done?”
He sighed, giving me his answer before he opened his mouth. “No. But I got rid of the Black Angels, at least. They won’t be hanging around Justice anymore.”
I closed my eyes, my heart sinking. “That’s your club.”
“Yeah.”
“You got rid of all but one.”
“One what?”
I opened my eyes and met his in the rearview for a brief moment before he refocused on the road ahead and I turned to look out the window. “The man who put a knife to Beckett’s throat wore the same jacket you do. So you got rid of them…except for one.”
Parris stayed silent, gripping the wheel a little tighter. Not like I’d expected him to say anything—what could he do? Say sorry he missed one? Whoops, I forgot about that one guy who decided to come after Beckett and me because of him? The Black Angels were his crew, his brothers from how I understood those biker gangs. They were him.
And one had put a knife to Beckett’s throat.
“Look.” I pointed out the window as we made another turn, the lights of the vehicle behind us illuminating a large tree trunk. “Beckett said that tree looked like a dragon.”
I’d promised to take pictures with it if there would have been daylight. So many hours later, it was too late and too dark and too scary to even pause. After everything, maybe Beckett wouldn’t even remember. Maybe he wouldn’t care that I hadn’t been able to keep my word. But I would.
Parris grunted at my comment but didn’t reply, driving faster as he hit pavement. Taking us back home to Justice, where we still weren’t safe.
“Two Black Angels left,” I said, not looking at him. Keeping my eyes firmly staring out the window. “The guy who locked us up—and you.”
His club. His guys. Him.
A battle brewed inside of me, one I already knew the ending to. As much as I wanted Parris, as much as he made my heart jump and my body sing, he was a biker. A Black Angel. His so-called brother had put a knife to Beckett’s throat. The man was dangerous, and no matter how much I may have wanted him, I couldn’t have him. I couldn’t risk my baby again.
The rest of the trip was made in silence, him driving and me fighting to stay awake. When we reached the alley behind the hardware store, Gage stood at the back door, looking all sorts of dark and terrifying as he practically bled from the shadows. I’d never seen a more welcome sight.
“All good?” he asked, not even glancing my way but staring hard at Parris. Looking mean and mad and ready to go to battle if needed. I really hoped all that rage wasn’t needed.
“Yup.” Parris moved around the truck to grab Beckett as I slipped out my side, practically bumping into a silent and sneaky Gage. The mechanic stared down at me, those almost-black eyes of his seeing all the way down to my soul, it seemed.
“The question was for you, too,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Are you all good?”
All good with what had happened, what I’d seen, with Parris coming home with me, with life in general. No, I wasn’t all good with any of it. But there wasn’t much I could do at that moment.
“I’m fine.”
He looked over my shoulder before dropping his gaze to mine once more. “That changes or you need anything, you let me know.”
“I will.” But I was too distracted to say any more. Parris had just rounded the back of the SUV wi
th Beckett in his arms, my little boy looking almost toddler-like in the big man’s arms. I didn’t want to be away from my baby again, not for a minute, so I followed Parris to the door, slipping in front of him to unlock it before holding it wide. “Thanks, Gage.”
“Anything you need, Mercy.”
“I’ve got them,” Parris said, sounding far angrier than he had any right to be. “Thanks for your help.”
Gage didn’t answer, just stood and watched as the door closed behind me. As the metal seemed to slam so hard into the frame and close out the rest of the world. As I locked my son and myself in with one of them.
I trailed behind Parris down the short hallway and up the stairs, slipping around him again to open the door to my apartment. Letting him lead the way to Beckett’s bedroom. He tucked my son into bed, giving him a sweet kiss on the forehead before moving out of the way. I couldn’t help it—I crawled into bed and clung to Beckett. Needing a moment or two of peace and calm before I dealt with the storm inside of me. Needing to know he was here and okay before I walked out of that room. My baby kept sleeping, his warm body curling around mine the way it always had. His breath blowing across my face as I simply stared at him.
I could have lost this.
Parris disappeared into the hall, leaving us alone. Giving us space. I could sense him close, though. He hadn’t even left the hallway. I didn’t care. I had my son with me, which was all I needed.
Time passed—maybe minutes, maybe more like an hour—but I didn’t move. At least not until Beckett sighed and rolled over, chattering in his sleep the way he did sometimes. Talking to himself in gibberish I would never understand. The move released something inside of me, gave me the strength to leave his bed and rise to my feet once more. To face the imposing man still standing just outside the door like some sort of sentinel.
Or at least, that’s what I’d assumed he’d be doing. Instead, Parris stood hunched over just outside of my bedroom, looking about as worn-out and exhausted as I felt. Looking shattered. I understood that look—I probably wore the same one.
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