An hour or so after I get the call from Oz, we run into an unexpected complication.

It starts to snow.

“We need to move,” I murmur to Angel as the men ready themselves. “We need to leave time to be sure our tracks are completely covered before anyone shows up.”

“True,” he nods. “This could actually end up working to our advantage. It will be more convincing that Isabel’s truly alone out here if the snow around the cabin is obviously undisturbed.”

We may have a long wait out in the woods ahead of us. Thankfully, the temps are only in the low thirties. Assuming Fowler shows up sometime today, we’ll be fine. Angel tells everyone we’re heading out, and ten minutes later, the Lords slip outside into the early morning half-light.

Isabel’s up with us, of course. I stand with her as we watch my brothers file out the door in pairs. I know within minutes, they’ll all be in place, in the formation we discussed last night.

“This is it,” I murmur to her as Angel and Brick, the last two, file out the door. “I’d better get out there.”

“I know.” She looks up at me. Her face is still pale, but her jaw is set. Determined.

“You gonna be all right?”

She nods, a little too quickly. “I’ll be okay.” She inhales a shaky breath, then lets it out noisily. “I have everything I need.” She pats the back pockets of her jeans. “I’ll have the phone ready to call you at the first sign.”

“We’ll probably see them before you do,” I promise. “But this way, I’ll know you’re in place and ready to go.”

Isabel nods. She takes another deep breath, shivering a little. “Good luck, Thorn.”

I start to reply, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I pull her to me. My lips find hers. I kiss her long, and hard, hard enough that we’ll both carry the memory of it with us. When I pull away, her eyes are shining.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“Okay,” she whispers with a tremulous smile.

Ten minutes later, we’re all in position. It’s snowing harder now, which means our tracks will be gone within the hour. From my spot behind a downed tree deep in the woods, I stare at the little house, with its single warm light coming from the living room. I think about Isabel in there, all alone, and ache to be with her.

I know she’s as safe as she possibly can be right now, given the circumstances. The house is surrounded on all sides by Lords. In my gut, I know it will be okay. But if I’m wrong — if anything happens to her, anything at all — I’ll never forgive myself for it. Because after all, I’m the one that set this up. I’m the one who put her in there, all by herself, as bait for the man we’re after.

We wait, and then we wait some more. The cold isn’t too bad, but it’s tough not to be able to move around much. We could be here for hours, maybe all day. Shit, maybe longer than that. Now that we’re committed to this course of action, our only choice is to wait. I can’t even smoke, because the smell might alert Fowler’s men that there’s someone here. My mind travels back to the first day at Connegut with Isabel. I remember how she wrinkled her nose and asked if I had to smoke inside.

Maybe it’s time to cut down.

The thought takes me by surprise. I know smoking’s bad for you, but I’ve never much cared. If today goes as planned though, maybe it’s time to start thinking more long-term. After all, I can’t protect Isabel if I’m not around.

The Lords keep communication to a minimum except when necessary. I hear the occasional rustle in the trees that tells me when one of them is changing position, or going out for a piss. About eleven o’clock in the morning, the snow finally starts to abate. I look down at the footprints I made when I trudged into the trees to get into place: there’s no sign of them at all.

Suddenly, there’s a buzz in my back pocket. I’ve been sitting here so long that it startles the shit out of me. Suppressing a curse, I grab the mobile and look at the screen. It’s a text from Ghost, who’s stationed further up the road with Hawk and Sarge. There’s a car coming.

Half a minute later, a slow-moving SUV with darkened windows comes rolling into view. I’m too far away and too well covered to be seen, but just the same I crouch down behind the fallen tree, lifting my head up just far enough to see the progress of the vehicle. Its tires crunch in the new fallen snow, the sound deepening as the car slows and then turns into the drive toward the cabin.

My chilled fingers work awkwardly as I tap out a message to Isabel: Theyre here.

A second later comes her response: K.

Slowly and silently, I move myself into a crouching position and glance over to my left, where Beast is stationed about fifty feet away from me. I wait until he turns toward me and nod once, lifting my hand: Wait. He nods back. Then I see him turn in the other direction and do the same to his left, where Angel should be.

I watch as the SUV stops, the door opens, and four men get out. One of them, in the passenger side, is older and slightly smaller than the rest. He hangs back, waiting for the others to surround him before they go further.

Fowler.

What happens next is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

I watch, not moving, as they draw their guns for cover and push inside the front door.

My heart is fucking pounding in my chest as I force myself not to act until the door closes behind them.

I make myself count. One. Two. Three.

Then, turning to Beast, I raise my hand and chop toward the cabin. Move.

Beast, Angel and I move silently toward the house. Gunner and Brick stay behind in the trees, each armed with an AR-15 just in case we get more company.

When we’re positioned around the house, I slide under the window that we’ve left cracked open off the front room. A deep male voice is speaking, followed by Isabel’s, high-pitched and tense. God damn it, I want to go in there right now and shoot that son of a bitch in the head. It takes everything in me to wait, to make sure the moment’s right.

“Are you my dad’s men?” she’s asking tremulously. “He said he’d come and get me and bring me home!”

Fowler fucking laughs, and the perverse sound twists in my gut. “Your father can’t help you. He thinks he’s a goddamn genius. Untouchable. But the man’s a fool.”

“Who are you then?” I can hear the rising fear in her voice even from here. God, Isabel deserves a freaking award for this acting. Fowler’s buying it hook, line, and sinker.

I risk a quick glance through the window. Isabel’s standing right at the entrance to the hallway, between the kitchen and the living room. She’s positioned herself perfectly. The men with Fowler have lowered their guns, apparently convinced she’s alone and vulnerable.

“I’m someone your father wronged. Very badly,” Fowler says, his tone ice-cold. “And you… are about to pay for his sins.”

I take out my phone and type a single word. One she won’t see until later. But the word doesn’t matter. What matters is the silent vibration of the phone in her back pocket. The one that will tell her it’s time to act.

Now.

Right on cue, Isabel takes a step backward, reaching back as though she’s feeling faint and about to grab the wall behind her for support. The eyes of Fowler and his two men are focused on her, and more importantly, away from the door. But instead of bracing herself against the wall, she brings one hand forward with the pepper spray and shoots a stream of it right at Fowler’s face before he can react.

Quick as a flash, Isabel turns and bolts down the hallway. Fowler starts to scream, but he’s choked off by a fit of violent coughing. He doubles over in pain, and starts to claw frantically at his face. A couple of his men begin coughing, too, less violently. The one who’s least affected draws his gun and runs after Isabel. Fowler shouts after him.

“Don’t harm her!” he rages. “She’s mine!”

I hear a muffled slam, and know Isabel’s reached the bathroom and locked herself in.

I look over at my brothers and nod. As one, we storm the front door and into the house, weapons drawn.

“Drop your guns!” I shout. “Now! Now!”

We have the element of surprise, but Fowler’s men are well trained. Fowler himself stumbles toward the bedroom, out of the line of fire. Two of his men turn and take aim, one of them at me. The third runs down the hall and cuts into the second bedroom — the one closest to the bathroom where Isabel’s locked herself in. I dodge behind the couch, but one of them manages to clip me in the left shoulder, making me drop the gun in my left hand. More gunshots ring out. I flatten myself on the ground behind the couch and strain my hand toward my Sig, barely managing to reach it and still stay out of sight.

Pain flashes in my shoulder, but I don’t think the wound is that bad, so I ignore it. I pull myself to the other side and peer around the couch. The fucker who shot me is on the ground, bleeding from a wound to the chest. Everything else is fucking chaos. Beast is nowhere in sight so I think he’s followed either Fowler or the third guy. Angel’s got his guy against the counter in the kitchen, working on wrestling the gun from his hand. The fucker fires wildly, hitting the ceiling, and then with a yell manages to shove Angel just enough to catch him off balance. But Angel grabs hold and takes the piece of shit down with him.

I hear sounds of a fight in the second bedroom. I stagger up and into the hallway. The main bedroom door is closed, and I take aim and fire at the lock. The flimsy door splinters on the bullet’s impact. When I kick in what’s left of it the room’s empty, the window open.

I run across the room and look out. The snow on the ground is disturbed, and Fowler’s nowhere in sight. “Fuck!” I shout, stuffing my piece into my waistband. I grip the sill, hoisting myself through the opening and dropping down into the snow below. I can’t take the chance that Gunner and Brick will miss their shots at him. Fowler cannot escape.

The tracks lead toward the front side of the house. I pull my gun and run in that direction, and round the corner just in time to hear Fowler start the engine of the SUV. I take aim and fire at the front tire. It just misses the rubber. Fowler throws the SUV into reverse, flooring it. I change angles and fire again. The bullet shatters the front windshield. From the corner of my eye, I see Gunner and Brick coming through the trees. Brick drops to his knees and takes aim, then fires off ten rounds, riddling the side panel with bullets. One of them hits the gas tank. The car swerves, but keeps going. It’s almost too far away from me now, but as a last attempt, I raise my Sig and fire into the cab.

I only know I’ve hit him when the SUV lurches wildly, careening off the gravel driveway and smashing its back end into a tree. “Grab him!” I yell to Gunner and Brick, and turn back toward the house. Just as I do, a single shot rings out from inside.

I bolt for the door. Inside, Beast and Angel are standing in the living room, two bodies in a pile between them. A third one is crumpled in the hallway.

But what makes my blood run to ice is what I see next.

The bathroom door.

With a bullet hole through it.

“Isabel!” I shout, bolting past the men down the hall. “Jesus, Isabel, are you hurt? Answer me, baby!”

“Thorn!” comes the muffled cry from the other side.

I jump over the body lying in my way and shout at her to open the door. But just the knob begins to turn, I see something that stops me in my tracks.

The wood shrapnel is on this side.

The door opens. Isabel is staring at me, wide-eyed.

On the sink next to her is Beast’s .9mm.

“Holy shit, babe,” I breathe, turning toward the hallway. “Did you shoot that guy?”

“She sure as hell did.”

I look over and Angel is grinning at the two of us.

“Fuckin’ badass,” he smirks nodding toward her.

I turn back to Isabel. She bites her lip and risks a small smile.

“Jesus, woman!” I start laughing crazily. “Remind me never to make you mad again!”

Just then, the cunt Isabel shot groans softly. He’s not dead, yet. I bend down to take a look at his wound. Isabel got him in the gut, and he’s bleeding pretty bad. He’s the scrawniest one of the bunch, with a hawk nose and a greasy ponytail. He’s not wearing any colors, but I but I catch a glimpse of a familiar tattoo through a rip in his T-shirt.

Death Devils.

This must be Playboy.

“You better hope you don’t survive this, motherfucker,” I hiss down at him. “If Oz gets his hands on you, you’ll be begging for a swift death.”

Just then Gunner comes jogging through the front door. “We got Fowler,” he announces. “He’s not gonna make it, but he’s still breathing, for now.”

I stand up and reach out my hand to Isabel. She takes it, and together, we follow Gunner back outside toward the crashed SUV.

Brick is standing beside it, his AR in his hand. A figure is slumped over the steering wheel, blood soaking his chest. His breathing is labored, as though he’s barely able to suck in the little air he can get.

“So you’re the infamous Fowler,” I snarl. “Lot of trouble we went through, for such a goddamn pussy.”

He wheezes, in… out… in. “Fuck… you,” he finally manages.

“That’s all you’ve got?” I throw back my head and laugh. “You stupid motherfucker.” I pull out my gun and aim it straight at his head. Behind me, Isabel gasps. “I should end you right now, you waste of air,” I continue. “But the lady has been through enough today, without adding seeing pieces of your skull spattered through this cab. Besides, I’m going to enjoy knowing you spent your final moments gasping for breath and knowing you fucking failed.”

Fowler’s eyes are full of hate.

It makes me happy.

“Goodbye, you piece of shit,” I tell him. “Enjoy your eternity in an unmarked grave.”

Turning away from the SUV, I look at Gunner and Brick. “Looks like we’ve got some cleanup to do.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Brick says. Gunner nods. “Why don’t you get Isabel back home. Like you said, she’s been through enough for today.”

“Thanks, brothers,” I say sincerely. Gunner claps me on the back. Brick shakes my hand.

“Congratulations, little lady,” Gunner says with a wink at Isabel. “You’re safe.”

“Thank you so much,” she breathes. Her voice is still a little shaky. “Thank all of you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Brick rumbles.

“You goin’ back to Tanner Springs?” Gunner asks me then. “I think Alix would like to meet the girl she sent those clothes to. She’s been askin’ me about her, wanting to know how she is and if she’s okay.”

I glance over at Isabel. She’s looking at me, waiting for my answer.

“Yeah,” I nod. “We’re going back to the clubhouse. I think it’s time she meets everyone else.”

* * *

In the end, Playboy didn’t make it long enough for us to bring him back to Oz. When he goes to meet his maker, he should thank Him for that kindness.

I rang Oz from the road, when we were stopped at a gas station so Isabel could go to the bathroom. I told him Isabel was safe, and that Fowler, Playboy and the others were dead.

I also told him Isabel was my old lady now, and that if he needed to have words with me about it, that was fine.

Oz didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. In the end, he told me we’d talk later. I took that as a good sign.

When Isabel comes back from the gas station bathroom, she’s looking a little less shell-shocked. If you didn’t know her, or everything that had just happened to her, you’d assume she was just a girl on a road trip with her man.

Her man, who is absolutely off his head crazy about her.

“I spoke to Oz,” I tell her when she’s back in the car.

“Let me guess. The first thing he asked about was whether you had Fowler and Playboy for him.”

“No, actually. He asked about you straightaway. He was relieved as shit you’re okay. ‘Course, I neglected to tell him you were a little closer to the action than I had originally let on.”

“So, I’m never going to get to tell Dad that I’m — what did Gunner call me? A badass?”

“A fuckin’ badass,” I correct her. “And no, not unless you want him to murder me.”

Isabel flashes me a grin that’s so normal — so fucking normal — that it just about breaks my heart.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to risk that,” she teases. “I’ve gotten kind of used to you.”

“That right?” I grin back.

“Yeah. But don’t press your luck.” She gives me a sly wink.

I can’t help but laugh. “Noted.”

“Anyways,” Isabel says, leaning back in her seat with a sigh, “my father would never believe it if we told him. Oz thinks I’m nothing but a helpless little flower. Always has.”

“He doesn’t know you very well, then.” I reach over and take her hand, looking her in the eye. “After today, I’m not sure you ever needed my protection in the first place. You’re the bravest person I know, Isabel Mandias.”

And the funny thing is…

It’s true.