Chapter 15

We should’ve gone after her.

Three days have passed since we last saw Nadia. We know she’s okay; we’ve got eyes on her—former Navy buddies who look out for her twenty-four-seven. She is careful whenever she goes out, looking twice everywhere, ever vigilant. According to our boys, she doesn’t seem to be too cautious around civilians but appears skittish around any bikers she may cross paths with. Although I don’t like the idea of her being out by herself, I’m happy to hear that she’s being somewhat careful. Knowing our guys are always watching is a huge relief.

“We need to call her,” I tell Orion as we come out of the clubhouse.

It’s been a quiet week so far, but word on the street is that Colton is getting ready to make his move. We’ve tightened our ranks, and every Iron Horse—prospects included—is to carry a weapon at all times. Even the local PD is getting jittery about what might go down, but they are helpless against a club as powerful, resourceful, and connected as the Black Devils.

Today, Drake, Orion, and I are going to visit the Wolves and talk to Lucius about his old man, about his legacy and about what’ll happen to his club if he lets Colton get away with everything he’s done. We’re hoping for a positive outcome, but I’m not holding my breath. Colton has his hooks deep. The fear factor became key from the moment Lucius’ father washed up on the beaches of Balboa.

“We will as soon as we’re done with the meeting,” Orion says, looking over his bike before turning the key in the ignition. “I just want to get him on board first. We need a win here more than anything.”

“I worry about her,” Drake confesses. “Something is going on, and I’m not sure it’s connected to our current situation with Colton.”

“Listen, Nadia has every right to be frustrated with us,” Orion replies with a heavy sigh. “We know what’s ahead and what we may need to do, and we all agreed she can’t be a part of that. Until it’s over, we can’t give her false hope, either. Dammit, Drake, I want her just as much as you, just as much as Kai. But we cannot even imagine a future together unless Colton is out of the way.”

“Or six feet under,” I add.

I agree. I’m not a fan of killing people, but I will not allow Colton to threaten or get anywhere near Nadia, ever.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Drake is just as head over heels. Orion will burn the whole planet down for Nadia. We didn’t imagine it would evolve into this as quickly and as intensely as it did. But the Black Devils are a considerable risk, and the last thing any of us wants is for Nadia to get somehow dragged into this—or worse—spend the rest of her youth mourning us should we fail.

I would give anything to be able to be with her out in the open for everyone to see.

But Colton is a cold and calculating bastard. On top of that, he’s likely a certified psychopath. I saw what he does to the people who challenge him. And he’s about to come after us for precisely the same reason. We will lose everything we’ve worked so hard for—our club, our legacy, our future.

The Navy left us with deep scars on the inside, deeper than the physical injuries we sustained during our service. The things we’ve seen. The things we had to do. There’s no wiping that slate clean. When we came back to the States, we had a plan and we struggled to set it into motion. I would rather die than let Colton toss everything down the garbage chute. Blackthorn Riders MC is going legal, whether he likes it or not.

The old days are over. We’re going to make money off this thing. Good, clean money. We’ve got the infrastructure, the resources, and the motivation for such an endeavor. We just need to survive this coming war. But if Colton somehow gets anywhere near Nadia, I will fucking lose it.

And if I lose it, then it’s game over for all of us.

“How’s Lucius doing?” I ask Orion as we gear up for the ride. “When’s the last time you spoke to him?”

“Earlier this morning. He wants us to meet outside Stacy’s Roadhouse, off the San Diego Freeway.”

“That’s far,” Drake remarks, and I nod in agreement.

“He’s scared Colton might pick up on his move,” I reply. “He’s being cautious, but we still need to watch our asses.”

Orion checks the magazine in his gun, then puts it back and makes sure the safety is on before he holsters it and zips his jacket up. We’re wearing slim bulletproof vests these days, something I never thought I’d do again since my time with the SEALs, yet here we are. “We’ll be fine,” Orion says. “In and out of the roadhouse. We’ll keep it short and sweet. Fifteen minutes, tops. If Colton starts calling him, at least Lucius can tell him he’s on his way back.”

“Medina’s bike parts shop isn’t too far from there,” Drake points out. “He could use that as an excuse.”

I shrug. “Provided Medina isn’t already chugging Colton’s dick like the rest of those pricks.”

“Yeah, the mechanics have been a consistent disappointment,” Orion sighs.

They’ve been a fucking menace to all of us. In the past, mechanics used to be trustworthy. They’d help us out with bike parts and custom repairs, and we’d pay them a pretty penny and send more customers their way. It was a win-win situation. We’d facilitate certain processes with the IRS or the local government, and they’d keep an eye out for us—new rogue bikers coming into town, gang activities, rival clubs chattering about a hit here or there. There was a time when the mechanics were our eyes and ears in and around Orange County.

Nowadays, however, they seem to have turned into snitches, exclusive snitches for the Devils. I think Colton knew exactly what he was riding into when he crossed state lines and decided to make a new home here.

“It’s a tragedy when you can’t trust your own mechanic,” I say.

“We should pay Medina a visit after we speak to Lucius,” Orion suggests.

I’m inclined to agree.

Once we get on our bikes, we ride south.

The skies are blue and clear, and the sun is up and gleaming. Everything about this day is meant to be a good omen, but my instincts are flared up. My nerves are wound tightly as I grip the handlebars and steer my bike along a wide curve leading toward the freeway. Orion rides first, while Drake has my flank.

Constantly checking my mirrors, I don’t see anything out of place.

Yet the hairs on the back of my neck are stiff as I give my hog an extra kick and increase my speed, the wind blowing in my face. Behind us, a familiar sound emerges—other motorcycles. But they’re not Harleys, like ours.

They’re sport touring cycles.

I check the mirrors again.

At first glance, I count six speed bikes. Judging by the sound of their engines, these are big girls, with at least 1000ccs each and plenty of horsepower. They are black and red, each painted similarly, a custom job. My stomach tightens as the color scheme creates several connections in the back of my head.

The road ahead is about to melt into the San Diego Freeway. This last stretch is empty, though, with nothing but dirt and dry shrubs on both sides.

The bikes roar, getting closer.

Too close, too fast.

They’re aggressive in their approach, and it only takes a couple of seconds for me to realize what’s about to happen, so I pump my bike hard until Orion hears it. He looks over his shoulder, and I can tell that he understands. Drake is also accelerating, riding alongside me while our pursuers shorten the distance between us.

We know where this ends if our reflexes aren’t sharp enough.

The speed bikes reach us and surround us, constantly revving their engines in an intimidating manner. The riders are clad in black leather, comic-book-style red demons glinting on their helmets as they swerve closer and closer.

“They’re trying to box us in!” I shout.

But Orion goes faster and gets ahead of the group. I know this maneuver all too well, and so does Drake. These fuckers may have potent bikes, but we’ve got massive hogs between our legs. The crash bars alone are enough to knock them off their game, and we’re not afraid to use them.

One of them tries to inch even closer, foot gradually extending to try and kick my side.

I let my Harley swing toward him. As soon as he sees the beast leaning into him, he slows down by a single hair, just enough to save his ass. It’s the opportunity I need to take my gun out and point it at them. They shout something and rev their engines even louder, so I fire a warning shot in the air.

Their speed bikes snarl, but they dare not come closer.

Instead, they go around and dart forward, quick to melt into the freeway traffic while Orion, Drake, and I pull over. I’m shaken to the core, understanding how close we came to a skirmish—the kind that might’ve ended with our entrails spread along the side of the highway.

We may not be the devilish kids we were when we rode our first hogs, but we’re not to be messed with. I hope they got that message loud and clear. Colton might be younger and bolder, an avid risk-taker, but there’s a reason why we’ve survived for so long in a game where you rarely get to hit your forties, in the first place.

Drake hisses as he takes his helmet off. “Colton is teasing the leadership directly. That’s fucking bold.”

“He’s sending us a message,” Orion adds, running a hand through his black hair. “Any day, now, he’ll be coming, guns blazing.”

“Colton is trying to throw us off our game,” I reply. “We need to shake these tails before we meet up with Lucius. We can’t risk exposing him.”

Orion is already on his phone, texting the man. “Yeah, he’s been made aware,” he mutters, waiting for a reply. “He changed the meeting location. Arby’s. The one near Dana Point.”

Hopefully, we make it that far. Every day seems to be like Russian roulette for us: Either we survive it, or we don’t. Colton Harrow seems determined to shatter our nerves before he comes gunning for us. I wonder if he knows our history and our ability to obliterate any adversary if we have to.

I wish we didn’t have to.

But his minions just tried to run us off the road.

Blood requires blood.

And I will spill all the blood in the world if that’s what it takes to survive and get back to Nadia in one piece. She’s the unexpected kind of motivation I didn’t see coming until she was already burrowed deep within my heart.

My phone rings. It’s Paddy. Given the timing, something tells me we’re about to get unpleasant news on top of the shitstorm we just rode through. “Yeah, Paddy, what’s up?” I answer.

Orion and Drake eye me intently. They can tell from the look on my face that things just got worse. As Paddy brings me up to speed on the events of the past couple of hours, it becomes clear that the assholes we dealt with mere minutes ago were part of a coordinated action. Colton is only getting started.

“We need to get to the hospital,” I tell the guys once Paddy hangs up.