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The response came only a moment later.
BRUCE: Wasn’t me. Got alert. Want me to head that way?
ARBOR: I’ll check it out and get back to you.
BRUCE: Keep me updated. Be careful.
“Arbor?”
Arbor shoved his phone back into the pocket of his cut and started getting dressed. “Gate alert,” he said as he fastened his jeans. “I’m going to go check it out. Stay here.” He yanked a tee over his head before he went to her side, bent over her, and kissed her lips. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll go with,” she said and went to move the blankets off of her.
Grabbing her hand, he stilled her. “Stay here. I’m sure it’s just one of the foremen. Probably forgot his wallet or something.” He kissed her again, then he grabbed socks from his dresser, his cut from the hook, and headed out to the living room.
After putting on his socks and boots, Arbor headed down to his bike. It was the first time he was heading into a situation like that at the property where he didn’t know what he was facing. If it wasn’t Bruce, he didn’t really know who it could be. Generally, the foremen would message one of the owners or Arbor to get access to the property if they needed to after hours. The code wasn’t handed out willy-nilly, but it wasn’t as if they were stingy with it either. It wouldn’t be a shock if one of the other workers had it, which is why they changed it every time they fired someone or a worker quit.
Bruce was too laid back to be a tyrant about security, but that might have to change if this was the beginning of a trend.
Arbor rode the few minute drive to the business and stopped outside the gate. After parking his bike off to the side, he approached the barrier and examined it. If someone wasn’t paying too close of attention, it would look like nothing was amiss, but Arbor saw the problem. There was something sprayed over the sensor.
This wasn’t a foreman who forgot his wallet or keys. If that were the case, the gate would be fine. If he had to guess, someone opened the gate, drove through, sprayed the sensor, punched in the code to close the gate, and sprinted through the opening before it shut all the way.
His lion was prowling inside of him as Arbor’s instincts were screaming at him. Rather than opening the gate and having the alert go off inside the office, Arbor shifted and headed into the trees surrounding the property, following the security wall. Two hundred yards in, he scaled a tree, turned, and leapt over the brick security wall, landing on his paws in a clearing in the trees on the other side. Shifting back, he told his lion to shut the hell up when the animal started roaring about Arbor not letting it handle the problem.
He jogged through the woods, keeping his eyes and ears open for a sign of what was going on, and made his way to the stretch of grass just behind where the temporary office sat. Taking a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever he was about to face, he slowly crept around the building, making sure to stay under the windows.
When he reached the front, Arbor saw that the door was open, and he made a mental note to find out how this fucker got keys to both the gate and the office. It wasn’t until he approached the door that he saw that the intruder must not have had the office key, since the window on the door was smashed. They must have smashed the window and reached in to unlock it. So that left the gate key as a problem.
Slowly entering the office, he glanced around and saw a dark figure coming out of the bathroom. Once his eyes adjusted, the situation became clear. The fucker was Kitten’s ex, Joshua Pennington, and he was there for her.
Not bothering to shout orders or try to talk to the man, as soon as he saw the man reach for something, Arbor dove at him, tackling him to the ground. He yanked Joshua’s hand away from the gun shaped lump at the back of the man’s waistband, but Joshua managed to roll them at the same time. When Arbor was mid-roll, his head banged against the corner of a filing cabinet, knocking his wits from him for a moment. That was when Joshua got to his feet and reached for his gun again.
TWENTY-ONE
MEGAN
Thefrontdoortothe treehouse had barely closed when something in Megan’s gut told her to get up and follow him. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Arbor. She absolutely did, more than she had ever trusted anyone in her entire shitty life. No, it was more sinister than that. Something bad was happening. Her gut was alerting her to that, and having made a promise to herself to follow her gut, she got dressed and headed out.
Whatever was happening at the Trenfell, Arbor wasn’t going to face it alone. He said they would face their problems together, and that’s what they were going to do, damn it. She wasn’t about to be the damsel in distress or the good little woman waiting at home while her man faced off with whatever was going on. Nope. She was a survivor, a fighter, and that meant she would fight at his side.
With her property cut on and sporting her new biker boots Arbor got her two days before, Megan sped up to the gate and slammed on the brakes. Putting her car in park but leaving it running, she got out of the car and retrieved her work keys from her pocket. She made quick work of opening the gate before she hopped back into her car and barreled down the driveway.
When she saw the doorway to the office open, her heart started to pound out of control in her chest. Preparing herself for anything, she parked in her usual spot and got out. Pocketing both her work keys and her car keys, she headed for the office.
Just as she stepped inside, she saw Arbor shift into his lion. She took a few quick steps to the side, knowing the man he was facing off with was going to have to move or be knocked over by the sheer size of her mate.
That was when she heard the gunshot. Her breath froze in her lungs as she watched red appear on Arbor’s flank, spreading over and staining the tan coat of his lion. Anger grew to rage as she spun around and grabbed the bat from the bottom of the coat rack. Without missing a beat, she spun back around and swung that bat right at the back of the assailant’s head.
At the last second, the man turned and grabbed hold of the sock-covered end of the bat. As she yanked the bat out of the sock, she met the eyes of her ex and recognition dawned. It was dark in the office, but she could see enough. It was him. He was there for her. And he just shot her mate.
Enough.
Shouting her rage, she swung again, putting all of her might into it, and brought that bat right up against his temple. Joshua flew to the side and collapsed on the ground, unmoving.
End him. Don’t let him win.
Determination and survival ruled her as she lifted the bloodied bat up over her head and brought it down on his face repeatedly.
