31. Ash

Chapter Thirty-One

ASH

S omething had changed.

Since the great biker apocalypse two days ago, where every brother and each of their family members had crammed themselves through the clubhouse doors for an indeterminate stay, everybody had been on edge. Knives danced in people’s fingers, guns stowed down every jeans and jacket, and weary eyes watched every window, door, and suspicious mousehole chewed through the walls.

Wolf had burst in from whatever meeting had adjourned out of town with a storm on his face, and all full-time brothers had been locked up in church for several hours.

Or so my sources told me. Well, not so much was disclosed to me as they told others. I just happened to be sitting nearby with an open ear. A few less familiar members had answered my harmless probing questions before gaining insight into who I was and what I was doing there.

The only truth that continued to elude me was where Lamb had gone. He had left with Wolf and his brothers to the meeting and had never returned. It had been fifty-two hours since he’d gone MIA, and all I had been told was that he was still out on “ business .”

“You look like shit,” Mint said.

I looked up from the wood-chipped staircase, my fingers pausing on the small bare patch I had been picking at and stared down at the wide man’s form. He lingered on the bottom stair, two small Styrofoam coffee cups shared between his large hands, dark hair mussed from sleep and tired green eyes dulled by the stairwell shadows. I stared at the black liquid swirling inside the cup, steam stirring across the surface.

“It’s coffee.” He gestured to it, climbing his way up the rest of the stairs before taking a seat on the step beside me.

The coffee smelt strong but bitter, mixing with his fresh crisp scent as he settled by my side. There were many large individuals in the club, and though Mint was neither the tallest nor the bulkiest, his body was wrapped in taut muscle, trained and disciplined.

“I know it’s not booze, but it’s better than nothing,” he said as he held the cup out to me.

I took it, the heat transferring into my cold palms like an iron on ice. It burned, and I relished the sharp sting, not realising how cold I had gotten. “Thanks.”

Those sharp, green eyes scanned me head to toe before narrowing into tight little slits. “When was the last time you slept?”

I ignored him, looking into my coffee, watching light flit across the shaky surface.

A strong, calloused hand captured my chin, turning my head toward him.

“You have gotten far too comfortable touching me,” I growled, tugging my head out of his grasp with a snarl.

“Put away your claws, kitten.” Mint chuckled, my warning falling on deaf ears. “You can’t scare me off with those measly things.”

I sent him a scornful glare, but Mint shrugged, unfazed. I did not like this one bit. I used to be scary. Intimidating.

“Fine.” Mint raised his free palm in mock surrender. “Tell me the truth, and I won’t manhandle you,” he proposed. “When did you last sleep?”

“Last night—”

I yelped, pain bursting across my forehead. I slapped my hand against my skull, the sting radiating beneath my touch. “ You flicked me!”

“And you’re a liar,” Mint retorted, disarming his finger and thumb. He took a mouthful of his cheap coffee, his eyes cast out into the small section of the clubroom visible from my spot. Yesterday, it had been crammed shoulder to shoulder with people, and now, it was an empty wasteland, only a small buzz of conversation drifting in from somewhere deeper inside.

“Where did everybody go?” I sipped my coffee, redirecting the conversation away from myself. The warmth simmered down my throat and pooled in my stomach, an acidic aftertaste lingering in the back of my mouth.

“Staying out of harm’s way, I suppose.” Mint shrugged.

“Have we got problems?” I said, not touching Mint’s eyeline as I diverted my attention to some chipped paint flaking from the wall. Fascinating.

“Nothing to worry your little head about.”

I could hear the smirk on his lips. I had not fooled him. As fresh as Mint was to the brotherhood, he had earned his patch through loyalty and sacrifice. He would not give up club-sensitive information to an outsider, borderline foe, that easily.

“Lamb’s fine, as well.”

I hated how fast my head turned. I hated the smile Mint failed to fight even more. Seeing it creep up onto his face made my head turn back to my loyal wall, familiarising myself with the chip. “I did not ask.”

“No,” Mint agreed. “Not verbally.”

I frowned at him.

“I’ve seen you up here more times than not. A couple of brothers shit themselves thinking you were a ghost,” Mint explained. “Probably not wise to sit out here in the dark at night.”

My insomnia had been exposed through ghost stories. Who would have thought?

“Did they send you over”—I chuckled—“to exorcise me?”

“I don’t have enough salt or crystals to exorcise your demons,” Mint joked, but it soon softened. “But I would if I had. Yours and everyone else’s.”

I studied the young man in-depth for what felt like the first time. He was not much older than me, if not the same age, though our lives told vastly different stories. Still, I could not help but wonder: what took a man so prudent, honest, and dutiful as him to step into the life of an MC? He would look more at home in the emergency services than running drugs and guns through suburban neighbourhoods.

“Never took you for a martyr,” I mused.

Mint’s gaze wandered into the distance. It travelled far past the club walls, the gates, and beyond Fellpeak’s borders. “There’s a lot people don’t know about me. And a lot I don’t share,” he spoke. “Nor will I.”

I wanted to ask more. I wanted to pry. I wanted to know what had ruined and scarred this man so terribly. I let my curiosity wither in my chest. Something about that distant gaze made me think that if I did ask, he would be too far away to hear me.

“Mint!” A frighteningly loud voice jolted us back into our surroundings.

I whipped my head to the bottom of the stairs, hot liquid spilling over the rim of my cup and onto my fingers as I caught sight of wild, blond curls. A wide grin parted the boy’s plump, rosy cheeks, wearing a ragged set of overalls covered in patches of oil, paint, and who knew what else. His big bright eyes were set on the biker beside me, and even in the dimly lit hall, and my lack of glasses, I knew they would be a vibrant emerald green.

“Adair.” Mint frowned, his call-to-action softening. “What’s up?”

“Uncle Hummer’s lookin’ for ya.” He began to climb the stairs two at a time with wide, strenuous steps, not waiting for Mint’s response.

The large biker heaved a deep sigh. “All right, all right, kiddo. I’m coming.” Mint stood, collapsing his empty coffee cup in his palm, tracking down the stairs, and meeting the mountain climber in the middle. He dropped his shoulder, scooping an arm around the small being’s wriggling frame, and stood. Adair went limp under the brace of the large man, legs and arms dangling like wet noodles.

His bright green eyes jumped upwards, curiosity glowing through his every expression as he stared wide in my direction. “Hi.” He waved, giggling as Mint’s steps jostled him up and down like a theme park ride.

A smile fought to break through at the charming little gesture, but I schooled my face, not wanting to encourage the child’s good faith to an ill-fitting suitor. The boy did not falter, smiling unfazed whether I responded or not.

The pure giggles continued long after Mint and Adair disappeared out of sight. I wished they would last forever, but even they echoed into silence and I was once again left alone. I stared into my full cup of coffee, taking a small bitter sip.

It was cold.

L oud, shrill screaming tore through the clubhouse.

I was startled, throwing myself upright from the bed I had been lying in, staring at the ceiling moments before chaos erupted. Panic roiled through my veins, my stomach shivered and spasmed, my fingers grew cold and my feet hot, and the air turned thin.

The noises grew louder, and scuffling, smashing, and shouting swelled with each passing second. I tore my mind out of shock and scrambled towards the bedside table, knocking my glasses clear off the side. I swore, my eyes failing in the dark to find them.

I wasted no time looking for them, throwing myself across the room and slamming my shoulder into the door as I tore it open.

Air blasted across my face as people bulldozed past, thundering straight down the stairs leading to the main hall. I could not tell the brothers apart, not when they melded into one large and angry meat wall surging straight to the source.

The floor vibrated with their charging rumble, and I pressed myself tight into the wall, all too aware my ruined vision made me a prime candidate for a trampling. I took deep breaths, tampering down anything that threatened to rise from within, and hugged the wooden panelling, tracing every nook, cranny, and snag that signalled where I was. Darkness had swallowed the halls; no windows or doors could light my way, and the lack of light meant a lack of power.

I crested the staircase in the aftermath of the stampede, and the screaming voices began to separate, and words formed from the chaos.

“FBI!”

Icy tentacles surged from the earth, twining around my ankles and arms, and my heart and brain stopped dead in their grasp.

He’d found me.

Panic seeped from my blood into my mind like poison, my heart shivering in my chest, waves of adrenaline and cortisone tightening my muscles into knots as every fibre of my being screamed.

Run. Run. Run.

I fought for my breath, but fear held tight and crushed my lungs under its leaden weight, suffocating me from the inside out.

If you stay here. You’ll die. YOU’LL DI—

A bang burst through the room. Light flashed across the space, bouncing off every wall and ceiling for a blinding second, leaving in its wake … silence.

A soft, ringing buzz grew in my ears, and I realised that it was not that the world was not screaming. It was that I could not hear it.

The flashbang screamed in my ears, its resounding cry drowning the dull, distant shouting and scuffling piercing through the deafening veil.

A sudden pinching grip latched around my arm, and I swung.

Air sliced past my fist, a wave of red hair burning across my vision as my attacker swerved and ducked beneath my swing. Their hand clamped around my wrist, the inertia pulling me forwards as I stumbled and slammed chest first into the wall.

My jaw ached, and my nose rebuffed the concrete wall with a loud whack .

“Ash,” my attacker hissed. “It’s me. Calm down.”

I thrust my chest and hips forwards, the momentum pulling back my shoulders with just enough force to break free of my bonds. I spun, whirling, ready to fight. Until I saw their face.

“Kay?”

“Yes, thank God,” Kay sighed, reclaiming her grip on my arm as she hauled me into a brisk jog at her side. “Come with me.”

“Wait.” I shook my head, fighting the confusion and disorientation. “That bang. Someone’s throwing flas—”

“That’s Anna’s doing.”

“What?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Kay growled, glancing over her shoulder, impatience burning through the worn grooves of her aged face. As the old lady of the late president, it was not a surprise she was familiar with these situations. But the concern growing on her face made me uneasy and my heart stumble. This was not like other times. “They should be here by now.”

“The FBI?” I asked, jerking around a corner as we dove deeper into the encrypted clubhouse. “They’re already here.” That familiar panic, momentarily subdued by confusion and adrenaline, was rearing its head. “I have to get out of here, Kay. I need to go before they get to me!”

“I know,” Kay grunted. “Last thing we need is to be caught harbouring an illegal alien.”

Unease roiled in my chest as Kay began opening doors, slipping down corridors and turning hidden corners. I did not know the place well enough to track where we were going and, in the dead of night, I was truly lost. The compound was not a large place; not large enough for this myriad of turns and back routes. It would be an impossible maze for strangers. Impossible for me.

The further we ran, the more distant my escape felt, and the more power my mind took. My chest grew tight under its hold, my heart throbbing in my ears, and the unmistakable iron taste perverting my tongue. Oxygen thinned, and fog seeped into my mind, lead pooling in my feet as they began to catch and snag against the floor.

You will never get out. He is here. He is going to catch you.

“Wait,” I panted, my breathing slow and shallow. “Slow … down.”

I heard a curse from Kay sounding far away from me now. My arms and fingers tingled with numbing pain as I fought for each half-filled breath. Arms wrapped around my shoulders, and the force dragged me forwards, my feet catching my staggering body with great effort.

I wanted to run or walk without tripping. I needed to exhale the panic or take just one full breath. But I could not. Darkness swam around me as my world began to crumble.

He was here.

This was it.

It was all over.

“I cannot,” I gasped, my voice weak and agonised. “I cannot go back.”

“You won’t, honey.” Kay’s voice was soft and sweet in my ears. “I’m getting you out of here, okay? You’re going to be all right.”

A beam of light sliced across us, consuming us with an endless bright ocean as an icy-cold wind battered my skin. It swirled and sucked itself into my lungs, the cold jarring in my chest as it stirred a strong, resonating breath inside. We were finally out. But where was I supposed to go next? Where—

“ Babe .”

I jerked upright, my oxygen-deprived muscles screaming in agony as I almost threw myself around.

Warmth wrapped around my cheeks, fingers grazing my neck as thumbs rested against my cheekbones. Palms pressed tight into my face as I looked up into a familiar pair of brown eyes.

“Lamb?” I whispered, fearing if I spoke too loudly, my hysterical illusion would disappear with a stroke of the wind. I searched the warm brown eyes staring down, as harsh and sharp as I remembered them, a deep running warmth stirring beneath the surface.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Lamb answered, hands shifting around my head, soothing my hair and gripping my shoulders, eyes scanning up and down my length, a relaxed wave washing over his movements as he recognised that I was uninjured.

The noise that had shifted away surged back with a booming force. An arsenal of bangs and shouting rocked through the clubhouse, smothered and tamped by the concrete walls. They were still trapped at the foremost part of the clubhouse, but it would not take long for them to advance.

He was here. He was coming.

“Lamb,” I rushed, my hands clamping onto his jacket, his attention snapping back to my face, reading the concern and panic flooding it. “The FBI, they are here. They have come for me. They are going to take me. Lamb, I cannot—” I stumbled over my tightening chest. My breaths shorted again as images of them bursting down the door, tearing us apart, and dragging me away took over my mind. It could not end like this. It could not .

“I know,” Lamb cut me off, those hands wrapping tightly around the sides of my face. “But right now, you’re having a panic attack.” He lifted his arms, draping something warm and heavy around my shoulders. It was drenched in his sandalwood scent. Then Lamb wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest as his large palms rubbed up and down my back in soothing, rhythmic waves. I struggled against the hold, my adrenaline and panic wanting to burst free and run as far away as I could. I was numb, and my legs were like lead, but I was ready to drag myself claw by claw to get away.

“Let me go, Lamb! We need to—”

“Ash, babe,” Lamb said, pulling back just enough to look at me. One arm stayed planted around my waist, keeping me pressed into his warmth, as the other reached up and cupped my chin, tilting my head to his. “I know we need to get out of here, but I can’t put you on the back of my bike if you’re going to pass out.”

“I am not, I will not, I—”

“After me,” Lamb interrupted me once again. Frustration burnt through my chest. “One …” Lamb said as he took a deep inhale.

“We do not have time for—”

“ One … ” Lamb persisted.

I glared at the stupid man. We didn’t have time for this. I could hear the chaos and confusion grow louder. They would soon be—

“ Ouch !” I yelped, slapping a hand to my cheek. A dull pain throbbed across the thick skin from the tight pinch of his fingers.

“You weren’t listening.”

“I was.” I slapped away at his hands, pushing out of his hold. “All I have been hearing from you is babe this, babe that.” I stabbed a finger at his rock-solid chest. “Why the hell are you calling me your babe?”

Incredulous belief rushed through my feet up to the tips of my hair as I saw his lips curve.

“Are you smiling ?”

“Looks like we’re good to go.” Lamb turned abruptly, his wide back rushing towards his bike, swinging one long, limber leg over the machine’s waist and sinking comfortably into the seat. He leaned back, pulling two helmets from the floor, before extending one towards me.

I was cemented to the ground, the interaction still processing in my mind. This man was unfathomable.

“Come on, babe; we gotta go.” Lamb urged, gesturing with the helmet in his hand.

The noise had grown silent behind me, and the situation began to dawn, breaking through the mental whiplash. I was unsure if it was for better or worse.

“I know,” I grumbled, stomping over to his side. Strength gathered in my legs, and even though my hands shook, I took the helmet without dropping it. If time had allowed, I would fear the power this man now held over me, but fortunately for him, it did not. “And stop calling me babe.”

The material Lamb had draped over my shoulders, I realised, was a thick, protective leather jacket, a little too big for my size but still comfortable around my form. I slid my arms into the sleeves, embracing its warmth. I fiddled with the helmet, refusing Lamb’s lurking hands, and clicked the strap into place. Then I swung my leg up over the side with a lot less ease and practice than Lamb had and slid down onto the smooth black seat.

Lamb fitted his own over his face, leaving only his burning brown eyes piercing through the dark material.

“You have never worn a helmet before.” It was not the time or the moment for the comment, but seeing the jet-black helmet over his head filled me with concern. I would not have enough fingers to count the number of times I had seen him astride his bike, hair blowing in the wind, face exposed to the elements.

“The second my engine starts up, we will have a tail riding my exhaust. Our only hope is to outrun them.” Lamb’s answer only deepened my anxiety. He turned, his tight, muscular body turning to grab the hem of my jacket, fit the zip together, and pull it up beneath my chin. “Any mark on your body should be my making and my making alone.”

His words summoned something in me. Something I had tried to repress.

For the first time since Lamb had left me alone, I felt the cold of my bones and the hollow hole in my chest. I felt how his warmth seeped into my skin. How the firmness of his back fitted against the curve of my chest. How his scent swirled in my lungs and sent fire down to the tips of my toes.

Entranced by the sudden and overwhelming presence of the man who had my heart truly at his mercy, I did not realise he had moved until his fingers locked around my wrists. They fit in perfect rings around my slim arms, pulling me tighter against him until my arms coiled around his tight waist and not even the wind could slip between us.

My breasts plastered against his leather, and though we each had two thick leather layers between us, I could feel the ridge of his muscles and the solidity of his spine. My core singed against the back of his jeans, my nose pressed into the slope of his neck, his warm woodsy scent making me dizzy and dazed.

I gasped as he adjusted on his seat, a searing burn flashing through me faster and hotter than any fever. “Lamb,” I all but moaned in his ear.

“Fuck,” Lamb hissed. “Babe, if you keep purring, I’m not going to be able to ride, and we ain’t got any more time.”

Pressing my palms flat against his rigid arms, Lamb released me. “I’m going to need you to hold on as tight as possible.” Lamb turned his head, his helmet knocking softly against mine. “You let go even a little bit, and I’m pulling over.”

I could not tell whether the lingering woozy sensation was from my panic attack or from lust, and I had neither the time nor the patience to figure it out. Being a second skin to Lamb for the entire ride seemed like torture and pleasure; I could not decide who had it worse. “Got it.”

“We’re going fast,” Lamb continued. “You feel something’s up or isn’t right, you let me know right away. Pinch me if you have to.”

I loosened my hand enough to thumb his tight skin beneath my fingers and pinched. Hard .

The bastard did not even flinch.

“Good girl.” He smirked.

Torture. It was definitely torture.

With those final words carved into my head like a gravestone, Lamb turned the key, and his engine roared to life.

“Let’s rid—”

Before Lamb could finish his words, the back door burst open. It bounced off the concrete wall with tremendous force, the metal ringing like an ancient gong across Fellpeak. Men in blue and black vests stormed through the small entry, shields and guns aloft.

Several had their weapons raised, barrels pointed directly towards us. Lamb did not wait for them to pull the trigger.

He released the throttle, and we shot forward, wheels screeching as dust and debris flew into the air. We rocked off the grounds and out the side gate, sliding onto Fellpeak’s streets faster than the wind could carry us.