I’m gonna make them fucking suffer.
They all would. Killcreek wasn’t known for showing mercy or restraint. They would get the wrath of the entire MC and beg for death in the end.
“We’ll meet in an hour. Get shit sorted and a plan in place. We’ll head out after midnight. Ambush for a fucking ambush.” Ace slapped his back and headed toward the door of the clubhouse.
For all his anger and rage, an innocent thought emerged in his head. He turned, calling out for his president.
“Ace?”
He grabbed the door handle and glanced back, lifting his chin.
“I want at least five prospects hanging back with Cleo.”
Ace furrowed his brows. “That’s more than half we got, brother.”
It was, and they’d need all hands on board with this attack. But? This was about Knox. Cross knew him better than anyone. If he was alive, he’d want his sister protected. And not alone. Cross would honor that silent request.
“Two is enough to cover her and keep her safe,” Ace said.
No.This wasn’t up for negotiation.
“And five is enough noise to make sure she knows she’s not alone.”
Ace sighed, grasping the back of his neck. “She’s barely left her room, Cross.”
Cross shook his head. “She’ll hear them. She’ll know they’re there. She won’t feel alone.”
Ace stared back at him without saying a word. Cross understood the hesitation. They needed as many members and prospects for their own safety to make this attack flawless. Numbers were key. But right now? Cleo was more important than anything else. That’s how Knox would see it.
Ace sighed, blowing out a heavy breath as he pulled open the door.
“She gets five.” Ace walked inside, and the door slammed behind him.
Cross dropped the bottle on the ground. He’d conserve his energy and rage for its intended target. He walked toward the back door and glanced over at the wooded path.
Revenge is coming, brother.
Chapter One
Addison rushed around her tiny apartment in search of her phone. She would’ve bet money that she’d left it on the kitchen counter, but when she went looking, it was nowhere to be found.
She grabbed her hips and gave a slow perusal over the living room. It had to be here somewhere, and in a six hundred square foot radius, it shouldn’t have taken this long to find. “Where the hell are you?”
Like most people, Addison was attached to her phone. In the last month, she’d tried distancing herself for her own well-being. It wasn’t healthy to be this addicted to puppy videos and unsolved true crime cases. She’d made some strides limiting her time. And now it was working against her.
“Dammit!” she snapped, catching the time on the stove.
She’d overslept. In fairness and showing herself some grace, she’d gotten home late after pulling a double shift at the bar downtown. She was scheduled again tonight for a closing shift, which left her morning and afternoon open to work on her project. Eight months and she’d made minimal progress. Hours upon hours of videos, manuals, and reading anything she could find on the internet, and she still had so much left to do.
I hate that damn bike!
It had become her nemesis. Every time she walked into the garage, she found herself glaring at it as though it was her mortal enemy, and she was ready to do battle. In a sense, it was a war pitting her and the bike against each other. Countless days of combat. The motorcycle was definitely winning.Oh, the irony.Addison never had an interest in motorcycles. Never ridden oneand never wanted to. Sure, she could see the appeal. Beautiful, loud, and fast. For others.For me?Safety was a concern. Even with a helmet and leather gear, the risk of crashing was too great. It wasn’t worth the adrenaline rush. At least not to her. But it was forhim.
She pressed her finger to her temples, massaged slowly, and inhaled a deep breath.Think!
“Retrace your steps,” she muttered.
After she woke up, she’d checked her messages, made her coffee and… She snapped her fingers and rushed into the bathroom. There it was.Exactly where I left it.
