Chapter 31

Rocky

The sun had set, and I'd been on the road for nearly two hours now. Slate, the fucking genius, had given me an address, and after continuous research and hacking and whatever the fuck else magic he did while I was on the road, he was pretty confident we were following the best possible lead.

Zachary Augustine, twenty-six-year-old with no social media presence, who lived alone and worked cyber-security as a freelancer online. He'd worked briefly in a college IT department, until he'd gotten fired six months ago. I did a double take at the name, it was the same college Peyton and Nolo attended, and I wondered if he had first seen her there. The car was registered to an address in Vegas, but apparently, the dude had a small lodge out in the butt-fuck end of Mercury with no neighbors—which sounded like a perfect place to lock an abducted woman, if you asked me.

I pulled to a stop on a dirt road a little way back from where I could see his cabin, with his shitty little Hyundai out front. The lights were on inside, and according to Slate, the boys weren't far behind me. But if Peyton was in there, I wasn't about to leave her to the mercies of that fucker for a second longer than I needed to. Leaving my bike right there on the side of the road as a marker for the others to see when they arrived, I headed silently towards the cabin.

I circled the small property twice, searching for all ways in and out. Two windows, and a single door. That's when I saw her.

She was on the floor, on all fours. But that wasn't the only thing I noticed. There was duct-tape around her ankles and wrists, and she was crawling desperately across the room while his back was turned. Her gaze darted often towards the pale-haired man who stood cooking in the kitchen, and she reached under the wooden table for something.

My hands flexed into fists as I watched her, my anger growing and festering at the idea that this motherfucker had reduced her to this. I was going to fucking kill him.

But I caught the flash of a gun at his waistband and decided to play it safe. Just in casethe fucker was a good shot.

Slate could have probably come up with a good plan, involving back up and probably even the police, but Slate wasn't here. And I wasn't waiting.

My style? Barrel in headfirst, guns blazing, and shoot everything until no one was trying to kill me anymore. It'd worked out well enough for me so far, so…

Sucking in a quick breath, I pulled out my gun and rapped on the front door. Then I pitched my voice as high as it would go. "'Scuse me, my car has broken down."

I winced at how dumb I sounded, even as I plastered myself flat against the wall beside the entrance. I didn't need him to believe me, I only needed him to open the door—or for Peyton to start shouting and give me a good second or two of distraction. Which is exactly what the fuck she did.

"Help, this fucker's got me tied up in here!" she screamed, loud and shrill and angry, which was accompanied by a clatter in the kitchen and the thumping of footsteps away from me.

I immediately shot at the flimsy handle and kicked the door in, rounding into the room gun first. There was a flash of a skinny man running past and the loud pop of live fire, and I jerked back out the cabin on pure instinct. When I tried to re-enter, another pop, pop, pop came at me, and I pressed myself once more against the wall by the door outside.

Fuck. That hadn't gone according to my non-plan.

"Give me the girl, fuckface, and I'll leave here without killing you," I bellowed, snarling and angry at the fucker's quick response.

"Leave now," came the quavering voice of a man cornered, "and I won't shoot the girl in the head."

Double fuck. Good going, Rocky.

His voice sounded like it was coming from where I'd seen Peyton by the table, and I immediately slipped around to the back window.

"Rocky?" Peyton's voice was shaky and filled with hope, and when I risked a quick look, I could see that she was curled in a tight ball on the floor, hiding something in her lap, while he was crouched around her. "Oh god, baby, is that you?"

"Shh," Zachary shushed her angrily. He had her body pressed tight into his chest, one arm holding her while the other pressed a gun to her head. "I'm going to shoot her if you don't leave!"

I ground my teeth together as I silently made my way back to the door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I had a clear shot of his back, but she was so tightly pressed to his body I couldn't risk my bullet going through him and into her. I needed the others here, now.

"Zachary," I said, hoping I could stall long enough for my boys to surround the fucking place. "Let's talk about this."

"Let's not." His voice was filled with fear, and why not? He was just some tech nerd with a gun. And I was willing to die for the woman in his arms. "I'm—I'm going to count from ten!"

"I'm going to fucking destroy you," I growled back.

"A-and when I finish, if you're still here, I'll…you know…"

"You've never killed anyone," I said, as cocky and brash as I could manage, hoping to goad him into further talk, instead of action. "What makes you think you can do it now?"

But to my surprise he started to laugh, high pitched and frantic and full of panic. "I know how to kill a girl, Mr. Lombardi."

My jaw clenched, and it took all my willpower to keep my feet locked down.

"It's surprisingly easy."

"Come out here and face me like a man," I shouted, "you fucking coward!"

But he only laughed again and started to count. "Ten…"

Oh Jesus Christ.

"Nine…"

"Rocky, are you ready?"

"Eight…"

Automatically, my legs braced, and my gun came up even before I even fully registered Peyton's words or managed to yell a warning for her not to do anything stupid.

"Seven…"

And then I heard the briefest feminine grunt—followed by a blood-curdling scream from Zachary, and a gunshot.

I whipped around the corner on pure instinct, gun up, half afraid to see Peyton's brains splattered over the wall. But she wasn't dead. The two were flat on the floor and she had a kitchen knife held in both her bound hands, still embedded into Zachary's shoulder.

She'd managed to twist around and stab the fucker, and it looked like he'd pulled the trigger and shot an innocent pillow.

I took all this in, in less than a second, and immediately shot at the ground beside the two of them. Because Zachary still held the gun, and he still held Peyton, and he needed to fucking know that danger was in the room with him, and he had more to worry about than the woman holding the knife in his flesh.

His eyes slammed across to meet mine at my gunshot, scrunched with pain and panic, and his own gun whipped away from my girl to aim at me. Good.

I barreled towards him with a roar, he still held Peyton tightly and I couldn't shoot the bastard.

"Rocky!" Peyton screamed my name, while Zachary just screamed. His gun went off and I felt a sting.

"Let go of her!" I bellowed as I tore across the room, pain ripped through my body, but I didn't stop. all I could see was the terrified pale eyes of the man I was about to kill, and before he knew what was happening, I'd grabbed his wrist aiming his gun under his chin and his fucking trigger bit down beneath my finger.

And his brains blew out the top of his fucking head.

"Rocky!"

The world became silent and still, save for a persistent ringing in my ears. And then a warm body was pressed to mine, fingers clinging to my vest. I was kneeling on the ground, and Peyton's lips were all over my face, butterflying across my skin. I slowly raised my hand to her hair.

I'd almost lost her.

I'd almost lost her.

"Rocky… Oh my god, Rocky, you've been shot! There's so much blood. What do I do?"

I blinked as Peyton's face appeared before mine, and I smiled at her. "I'm okay, sweetheart. Are you hurt?"

Tears were leaking from her big, blue eyes. "I'm fine, you stupid son of a bitch, you've been shot, doesn't it hurt?"

She was safe. The danger was cleared. It was over. "Nah."

"Your stomach, oh my god… We need to call an ambulance, where's your phone?"

My brows creased as she started rooting through my pockets, and I noticed all the blood. I finally turned my attention away from her.

Was it my blood? I could see it seeping into the denim of my pants. I stared down as her fingers darted through my pockets, wrists still bound with duct-tape. I was bleeding from my stomach, but the adrenaline still ripping through my body made sure I couldn't feel it. I pulled my vest up to look.

"Jesus Christ, you stupid fuck." That was a man. I turned to the door. Diesel? "You couldn't wait five minutes for the cavalry to arrive?"

"He's shot in the stomach!" Peyton shouted, reaching out and practically dragging Diesel over once he was within her reach, as Hawk and Rebel appeared in the doorway. "That's bad, right? We need an ambulance!"

But I just shrugged as Diesel dropped to a crouch and ripped my vest open to inspect.

"Missed the vitals," I told him, as he looked and saw for himself. "Barely grazed me."

"You're one tough fucker, you know that?" His blue eyes looked relieved as they met mine, and he snorted. "You're not gonna die in the next five minutes. But it's best we get you to a hospital, anyway."

***

"They're just a couple of grazes," I told the doctor, feeling impatient to leave. "You've cleaned and wrapped my wounds, what more could you need to do?"

The doctor, a South Asian woman with a completely unimpressed expression and a no-nonsense manner, raised her brows. "Sir, you've been shot. Sit still and let me finish checking your vitals."

"You have two minutes," I grouched, "and then I need to go check on my woman."

The hospital staff had separated us the moment Peyton and I limped into the hospital, which was fucking bullshit. I was fucking fine. What I needed was to make sure Peyton was safe, to keep her in my sight. Preferably forever.

"All right, that's good enough for now, your blood pressure is a little low. Nurse Martelli will just—"

"Nope!" I interrupted, bouncing up off the bed I'd been sitting in. "I'm good. Gotta go."

And with that I pushed out of the exam room and asked every person I saw in scrubs where Peyton was, until I found her on the second floor inside an otherwise empty room, where a middle-aged nurse doted on her.

"Alright honey, your baby's moving well. You'll need another scan at twenty weeks just to check everything's going okay. But you're past the critical period of early development so the sedative he used isn't likely to cause any problems to the fetus. You should still be able to come to full term without complications—"

"Excuse my fucking ears?" I whispered, as I stared in shock at the two.

Or rather, I thought I whispered. The way they startled and jumped to look at me made me wonder if maybe I'd shouted.

"Rocky!" Peyton was staring at me with huge, wide eyes. "How long have you been—"

"You're pregnant?" I looked down at her perfectly flat stomach, and then back at her face, which was dancing with about a thousand different emotions.

"I'll just… Hmm." The nurse began to back out of the room. "I'll leave you two for some alone time, shall I?"

I barely even registered her leaving, as I moved towards Peyton. "You're… How long? Is it…"

I couldn't seem to get a full sentence out of my pie hole, so I decided to just snap it shut as I stopped before her.

She bit her lip, and her face finally settled on a scrunched look of worry. "I'm sorry, Rocky. I didn't mean for you to find out like this."

"Is it mine?" I asked flatly, and she chewed her lip harder and looked away.

"Yes."

I blew out a breath, my heart hammering and my chest bursting with warmth. My hand found its way to her cheek, and I dropped my forehead to press against hers. "Peyton."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

The doors to the room burst open again, and Peyton startled and pulled away from me, turning guiltily towards the entrance. I turned too, watching as the dark-haired girl I'd seen come visit Peyton at the clubhouse a few days ago ran in, dragging Nolo behind her.

I noted, with a blank sort of surprise, that her fingers were interlocked intimately with my son's, and remained that way even when the two came to a stop before us.

"You're alive!" the girl panted, before flinging one arm around Peyton's neck. "Oh my god, Peyton, you're alright!"

"Lisa," Peyton said shakily, her voice small, "what are you doing here?"

"I was with Nolan when he got a call about your abduction, and then Rocky flying off after you without a plan or any backup."

"You were withNolan, huh?" She sent a meaningful look at their still intertwined fingers, brows raised, and Lisa blushed and let go of my son.

"Uh, yeah, about that…" She reached over and took Peyton's hand in place of Nolo's. "Excuse us, boys, we need to have a chat in private, and I think you do too."

And then she tipped her headed towards the door. I took the hint and stepped out, with Nolo on my heels.

A long, awkward silence filled the corridor.

"So, uh, you and that pretty brunette are a thing?"

"Maybe."

Nolan wasn't looking at me. His shoulders were stiff, his gaze on the ground, and although his face was turned firmly away from mine, I could see a deep crease between his brows.

A cold, sinking dread weighed down through me. Had he seen the way I was holding Peyton just now? I was reminded of all the moments I'd wondered whether he knew what was going on between his ex and me, and I clenched my fists.

"That's good." Oh god, I sounded like an idiot. I cleared my throat. "She's pretty."

"You said that already."

He still wouldn't look at me. What the fuck was I supposed to say? Well, now that you're fucking someone new, you don't care anymore if I have a go at the redhead, right?

Jesus fuck.

All that heartbreak I'd put Peyton through, just to avoid this moment.

But I'd ended up falling for her anyway, and here I was with my son, having hurt him all the same.

I am well and truly emotionally fucked up,I confirmed to myself as I stared at my boy and didn't know what to say. I hope to god he doesn't take after me.

I opened my mouth to speak, dug my nails into my palms, and snapped my lips shut again. Nolo sighed before me and looked down the corridor as if he was about to walk out.

I could let him. He might walk out of here, and I could let him go, and we could never speak of it.

But then where would that leave me? And it wasn't just me and Peyton and Nolo to think about now, there was a baby. A baby…

My jaw worked, but my lips didn't part. Nolo began to walk away.

"Son."

He stopped mid stride and turned to look at me. His face was clear of expression.

I took a deep breath and steeled my resolve. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Dad?"

But he didn't look confused. His face was blank. He was waiting for me to say it.

Ice trickled down my spine, every muscle in my body tensed, and I had to forcemy jaw to open, and my tongue to speak.

"I'm in love with the woman you dated." When the words finally spilled from my lips, something relaxed in Nolo's shoulders, and he faced me more fully. "I'm in love with Peyton. She came to me for help, and I kept her in my house, and I…fell the fuck in love with her. I hid it from you. I didn't want you to know, didn't want to hurt you, to betray you. But I fucking made it worse. I'm sorry."

Another silence filled the corridor, this time thick and painful with unspoken emotions, as I stood there and waited for my son to tell me how much he hated me.

Nolo's jaw was working as he clenched his teeth, and just before he looked away from me, I saw a glimmer of unshed tears in his green eyes. Then he let out a shuddering breath and threw his fucking arms around me in a tight, tight hug.

"Fuck, Dad," he whispered, his voice shaking. "You're such a fucking dick."

I hugged him back, warmth bursting out through my chest and overtaking the ice that had been building. "You don't hate me?"

He grunted, slapped my back, and then leaned away. "Unfortunately, no."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me, so glad, so fucking gladI hadn't ruined everything with my boy. "Then you're as stupid as your old man."

"Probably," he snorted, sending me a wry smile before shoving both palms into his eyes, and stepping back. "I am mad at you. For lying, for going behind my back, for…for taking the girl I wanted."

"Nolo—"

"But, it's…done." His hands dropped to his side, and he sent me another shaky smile. "She didn't want me. And it's going to be okay. We'll be okay."

"I love you," I told him, hoping he was ten thousand times smarter than me and knew just how much I meant it.

He chuckled and looked away, tears swimming through his eyes again, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Love you too, Dad," he mumbled.

I grinned, stepped forward, and crushed him in another hug, making sure to grab his head and mash my palm over his hair just the way he hated it most. "Good."