She’d come to our aid without hesitation, without regard for her own safety. In return, she’d received skepticism at best from my club and her life was now most definitely in danger.
“She thinks everyone hates her. She’s keepin’ her distance right when I need to keep an eye on her,” I lamented. “If those assholes lay a hand on her, they’ll answer to me.”
For the past few weeks, Francesca had done anything and everything to avoid me. If she thought we were done, she had another damn thing coming.
“We have your back on that, brother,” he assured me firmly.
“Appreciate it.” I nodded, throwing a leg over my bike. “Gonna go see if I can get my stubborn woman to stay with me.”
The fact I’d claimed her wasn’t something I made a secret of. Whether or not she accepted it was another thing entirely.
He bit back a smile. “Good luck.”
I snorted, firing up my bike. I’d need it. With a final two-finger salute, I roared off down the road.
The ride felt nearly twice as long as it should have, despite treating the speed limit as a suggestion. Francesca hadn’t responded to any of my texts or calls, and though she’d been trying to keep her distance since she’d come to Hawthorne a few weeks back, I doubted she’d worry me on purpose.
My gut told me something was wrong.
Why hadn’t I kept a man on her? Why hadn’t I insisted on staying with her? With worry clawing at me, I’d never regretted anything more.
One thing was for damn sure, she was done getting any kind of space from me.
When I hit Vegas limits and shortly after turned down the street where the bakery was, at first I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The bakery was embroiled in flames so high they licked toward the sky. Ash rained down on the neighboring buildings as my eyes went toward the small apartment just above the bakery where Francesca lived. It was too aflame to see. My blood ran cold at the sight as I pulled my bike to the curb abruptly, nearly ditching it in my haste.
“Stop!” one of the firefighters ordered harshly as I ran toward the scene.
“My woman lives there!” I bellowed over the chaos swirling around me. “Did you pull anyone out?” I demanded, my breathing labored from both stress and smoke.
I’d never been so fucking scared in my life.
He paused, radioing in about potential victims. When the response came back in the negative I wasn’t sure what to think.
“Do you know for sure she isn’t in there?” I demanded, my knees wanting to give out as dread threatened to consume me.
“The structure was too unstable by the time we got here,” he explained regretfully. “We don’t know the status of anyone who may have been inside. I’m sorry.”
I lost my footing then, sitting down hard on the curb beneath me, my head in my hands. The thought she could be lost to me before I’d even had a chance to have any kind of life with her was too much to bear.
My phone buzzed with a text and what I saw on the screen had a red haze filling my vision.
Francesca, bound and bloody in a chair.
Not so helpful now, is she?
I resisted the urge to hurl my phone against the nearest hard surface as I choked back rage so acute it threatened to swallow me whole.
I vowed then and there that her uncle and any other motherfucker who’d laid a hand on her would pay in blood.
But first I had to find her.
Chapter 8
FRANCESCA
The smell of blood, my blood, hung heavy in the air as I struggled to hold my head up.
