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“My father won’t make the deal.” The Hummer door opened, and she reluctantly climbed in. “We aren’t on good terms.”
Pillar shrugged. “If not, I’ll sell you with the rest of the women. Either way, I win.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kevlar
Tires squealedin the snow as one last round of gunshots echoed along the road. Snow fell steadily, making visibility near none. Kevlar kept his gun trained and cautiously peeked around the snow-covered rock. No sign of the Cutthroats. He glanced over his shoulder at his brothers. They were all in one piece, a couple somewhat cut-up from the broken glass. He rested a hand to his chest, the bulletproof vest intact.
Kita’s car idled nearby, and he sprinted toward it, the worst scenarios running in his mind. The front and back windshields were cracked with bullets, and a red tinge lined the glass.
Please don’t let it be Kita.He repeated the words in his mind. Reaching the car, he noticed the body in the passenger side. He kept low in case of any straggling bullets. Opening the door, he cringed at what met him. Mandi’s body was slumped over the seat belt, eyes wide and empty. The blood matted her hair, the scent of death lingering in the car. Her gun lay at her feet, hands limp above it.
He glanced to the driver side.No Kita.Panicking, he looked in the back seat and even popped the trunk. Seeing scuffled shoe prints in the snow near her door, his pulse skyrocketed. He followed them and reached tire tracks.Dammit.
“Kevlar? What’s their status?” Rubble asked, jogging toward him.
He jerked a thumb toward the car. “Mandi’s dead.” He looked past Rubble to Hawk. The man hadn’t heard the news yet, and he wasn’t looking forward to informing him.
Rubble pushed up his cap. “Damn. I’ll tell Hawk.” His eyes slid to the open driver door. “And Nikita?”
“Gone. Not sure which MC took her either.” He crouched in the snow, flakes hitting his face sweetly despite the havoc in his heart. “Could’ve been either one. They all wore the same color.”
“I don’t understand what happened.” Rubble holstered his gun. “The FBI….”
Kevlar looked up and saw the suspicious glint in Rubble’s eyes. “You don’t think….”
“Yeah, I do.” He pulled out his phone and dialed. “We’ve been played. C’mon, we need to get to the clubhouse.”
Standing upright, he reluctantly walked back to their truck. Doc met his gaze, and he sadly shook his head. Immediately, the medic called the sheriff, letting the man know the situation and the dead body.
“I’ll stay with Mandi,” Doc offered. “The rest of you secure the clubhouse.”
Hawk shook his head, his face unreadable. There’d be time to grieve later. Now, they had to defend Macha. “I’m staying here too. Better to stick in groups of two or more.”
The brothers knew the true reason behind Hawk’s request to stay behind, but none voiced it. Leaving Doc and Hawk behind, the remaining men climbed in the bullet-riddled truck and started toward Snowshoe. There’d be hell to pay. And the Cutthroats and Diablos would be held accountable for it.
Along with anyone else who betrayed us.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nikita
A black baghindered her vision for the duration of the car ride. She didn’t know the area well enough to map where they were headed, but she timed every turn and curve in case she was able to escape.
Metal rock music blared from the speakers, and she did her best not to react. The FBI trained assets in case of capture, music being one of the torture devices. This method wasn’t the worst, but her ears begged to differ. She could barely think straight, let alone hear what the men were saying.
The Hummer screeched to a halt and a hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her out of the back seat. She didn’t struggle. It’d do no one any good. She needed to keep alert, and getting whacked with a gun wouldn’t get her there.
The ground was hard, but not frozen grass. Footsteps echoed in the space, and she guessed they were in a large garage. A mixture of Spanish and English words were tossed back and forth. Mostly about hertight ass, of which she chose to feign naivety.
“In here,” a gruff voice said, nudging her forward.
She grunted when large hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her onto a metal chair. The material chilled right through her jeans, immediately making her wish she were back in Kevlar’s cozy bed.
The bag slid up, and light blinded her on impact. She winced and held up her hands to shield her eyes. When she finally adjusted to the room, she scanned it quickly. It was empty, save a table, chairs, and a large black TV screen on the wall. The low ceiling, florescent panel lighting, and white walls resembled an old office building, an abandoned water cooler in one corner.
“Where am I?”
