Page 73 of Property of Quake

Lyric and I exchange a look, trying to delay the inevitable. Time runs out.

"Fine," he groans. "But you stay behind us."

Whitney's expression immediately suggests she has no intention of doing that.

"Whitney."

"I'll try."

Beside me, Zombie laughs. "Well, we're doomed."

Normally I'd argue, but not tonight. Because for the first time since Carrie took Melissa, hope outweighs fear. Not by much, but enough.

Nobody, absolutely nobody, fucks with the Kings and gets away with it.

22

WHITNEY

The drive feels endless.

I sit in the passenger seat of Quake's truck, staring into the darkness beyond the window as the convoy of Harleys cuts through the night. Trick and Romeo are in the back, monitoring Romeo’s laptop… for what, I have no clue.

Headlights illuminate stretches of lonely road before they're swallowed by shadows again. Nobody talks much because there isn't anything left to say. Either Melissa is at the cabin or she isn't, and every mile that passes tightens the knot already wrapped around my stomach.

In the driver’s seat, Quake is unnaturally quiet and calm. I’ve learned enough about him to know that’s not a good thing.

Most people get louder when they're angry. Quake gets quieter. The calm exterior he presents to the world is nothing more than a silent siren before the tornado hits. His eyes remain fixed ahead, his jaw clenched tightly enough to make me worry.

Without thinking, I reach across the seat and slip my hand into his. His attention immediately shifts toward me, and his fingers tighten around mine. The gesture isn't romantic. It's survival.

When we finally turn onto a narrow dirt road, the atmosphere inside the truck changes immediately. Every person becomes alert, focused, ready. The road winds through dense forest, branches scraping against the vehicle as we make our way deeper into the woods.

Eventually, a glow appears through the trees, and Quake cuts his lights and slams on the brakes. Each motorcycle engine dies as they come to stop behind the truck. Hopefully, Carrie doesn’t hear our approach, but we have to be quick, just in case.

Nobody speaks as they all gear up. Some carry guns, others carry knives, and the rest will rely on their fists. As for me, I carry all the love in my heart.

Lyric quickly issues quiet instructions, and then he and Zombie disappear around the sides of the cabin while others fan out through the surrounding woods. Quake and I stride right up the front steps.

The operation unfolds with frightening efficiency.

Prior to leaving the clubhouse, we discussed our approach and decided that we’d try simply knocking. I know it isn’t what the guys want to do, but it reduces the risk to Melissa.

Before he lifts his hand to the door, Quake glances down at me. “You should really go to the truck.”

“Not happening.”

“Whitney,” he urges.

I pound on the door, taking the option out of the equation.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You stay behind me, got it?”

“Understood.”

We stand there for what feels like forever, and I start to worry about my whole ‘knocking is safer’ approach. No doubt fearing the worst, Quake lifts his leg and kicks the door open.

“Entrance breached,” he says into his coms.