We’d gotten word from an informant that our adversaries, the Rev and Riders, were due through the mountain pass—with a brand-new shipment of arms. We’d successfully run them out of city limits, but it’d quickly become clear that wasn’t enough. Now, sitting in the midst of the Rockies, I wondered if we needed to run them out of Colorado altogether.
Though I’d always look out for my club, my objective was entirely selfish. I wouldn’t bring Grace to Colorado until it was safe for her here—and I wasn’t there yet. Until that day, I’d have to survive on the phone calls I was absolute shit at and the images of her burned into my brain, guaranteed to keep my cock rock-hard despite my best efforts to tame it.
When a low rumble sounded in the distance, I let out a low whistle, which was immediately answered from across the road. No doubt Lincoln and Ryland were at the ready.
After years of combat fought together, my men and I were well prepared for any battle—overseas or fought at home.
“Here we go.” Tank sounded as gleeful as his cantankerous demeanor would allow.
“Want to shed some blood, brother?” I quirked a brow.
He scowled. “Assholes broke into my house, scared the hell out of my wife—do I really need to justify that shit with a response?”
“Just makin’ sure you’re with me,” I replied, my eyes to the road—the approaching rumble of a vehicle louder now and clearly not the street bikes the Revs normally rode. Not that we’d expected anything less.
Hard to carry AK-47s on Yamahas.
“Box truck,” Lincoln reported through the walkie. He had an uncanny sense for identifying motors at a distance.
“Easier to overtake,” Ryland chimed in.
“Not if they brought backup,” Tank replied.
“They didn’t,” Linc confirmed definitively.
We didn’t question him—he’d never been wrong.
“Ry, wait for my cue,” I ordered our marksman just as headlights appeared from behind the bend, indicating a white box truck maneuvering the windy pass.
“Didn’t tell us it’d be white.” Ry chuckled through the walkie, clearly trying to get a rise out of Linc.
“Fucker.”
“Quiet,” I clipped, knowing from years of experience when I could let them fuck around and when I needed them to focus.
With a vision of Grace swirling in my mind, my future so close, I couldn’t afford a misstep.
“Now,” I ordered just as the truck passed. Two rapid reports of gunfire sounded in answer as Ryland shot out both rear tires.
The truck banked left, then right as the driver fought for control. It was a fruitless effort, one we waited with expert patience to play out.
“Two in the cab,” Tank confirmed. “Means if our intel’s correct, there’s two more in the back.”
“Good. Would hate for this to go easy,” Ryland muttered darkly. Out of all of us, Ryland seemed to long most for the days of combat.
“They got magazines for those AKs back there, it most definitely will not go easy,” I confirmed.
“Doubtful they’re transporting them loaded, and they’d be having a hell of a time trying to do that now,” Linc muttered in amusement as we watched the truck continue to spin out.
“Minute that truck stops, we won’t be giving them that opportunity,” I ordered.
“Here we go,” Tank replied as we abandoned our bikes, guns drawn toward the truck clearly headed for the guardrail.
It slammed into the metal rail with a resounding boom, and for a moment, all was quiet.
“Go,” I ordered as we advanced. With hand signals, I commanded Ry and Linc to the front while Tank and I took the back.
I aimed, shooting the metal lock apart and tossing the back slider up. What greeted me had me swearing under my breath: two boys no older than eighteen looked at me with wide, fearful eyes—hands held up in surrender.
