Gunner was on the road again, the wind hard in his face. So many times over the past few days he’d been on his bike. It was where the world made the most sense, and where things were easiest to cope with. Especially hard things, like this—when the Viper had shown up at the clubhouse, spinning a tale about Lola being walked out of the mall by men in suits.
Horse had half a mind to dismiss it, but the Viper member had described the outfit Lola had been wearing to a T, and what reason did he truly have to lie? Gunner had taken to the road with half the Breed at his back, and half the Vipers on their way. The Viper had sent the location where the SUV had taken Lola to his club and led Gunner and the Breed there personally.
Outside the old office building, he took just a moment to make sure that everyone was ready. And then they rushed the door.
Gunner had been in more than a few firefights in his life, but he’d never enjoyed them. He’d never felt good about firing a gun, and he’d never been entirely sure if he’d killed another person. He didn’t want to know. He’d been sick enough over the various beatings he’d given. But this was his daughter, and the woman he—Well, loved was an awfully strong word. But he cared about Lola. He cared about her a lot more than made any sense given the short time he’d known her. And if he had to kill someone because they meant her harm, well, then that was just what was necessary to keep her safe.
With his siblings at arms, he rushed through the door, through a confusing series of corridors and old cubicles, coated with dust where they weren’t draped in plastic sheeting. The building smelled like mouse shit and something else, darker, that he couldn’t quite place.
There were clear tracks through the dust to follow, and he followed them easily, letting them lead him deeper into the dark maze of a building. He could hear voices, and after a few turns, lights. He held up before he and the rest of the club members rushed the room, spending a moment getting an idea of what was happening.
He could see a long conference table. Several suits around the table, who looked lazy, soft. One at the head of the table who looked like a hell of a snake, but not the kind who would be a threat in a fight. More you wouldn’t want against you — Well, at a table like this one. There were guys in suits all around the table, the kind who wore dark sunglasses inside and had their fancy suits cut so that they wouldn’t betray the shoulder harness worn underneath them. And at the end of the table was Lola. He recognized her from the hall of her dark, curly hair in its ponytail, and the set of her shoulders. She was nervous, but not as much as she could’ve been. He waited until the others with him were close by, guns out. His heart throbbed in his ears as he took a deep breath, let it halfway out, and then nodded.
They boiled into the room in a rapid wave. He couldn’t track each moment as it happened; he reacted on instinct and movement, rather than consideration. There were shouts around him, of “Don’t move” and “On the ground” and “Listen up scum.” He saw one of the standing suits go for a gun and saw him fall backward, clutching at his shoulder. Another moved, close to Gunner, and he brought back the gun before bringing it down hard across the man’s temple, crumpling him to the floor like a sack of potatoes. It felt like ages, but it was just a few moments before the men were surrounded, put in their places, hands up in the air or down on the ground. Horse seemed to have the situation contained, and when he shared a quick nod with Gunner, Gunner let himself go to Lola.
She all but flung herself up out of the chair, wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing her weight so hard against him that he wavered slightly on his feet.
“Hey,” he let himself murmur into her neck, looking up at the ceiling so that the stinging in his eyes wouldn’t turn into something embarrassing. “Hey. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
“Damn right I am,” she whispered back, and he could hear choked wetness in her voice as well. “But I’m getting really tired of this damsel in distress routine. Real tired.”
“Well, tell you what,” he said. “Next time, you can rescue me. Deal?”
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
He pulled back enough to see her face and give her the shit-eating grin he knew she loved. “So how did a pretty girl like you end up in a—” He looked around, considering. “Crappy broken down office building like this?”
Instead of laughing, though, the joy on her face stilled down into something between fear and worry.
“They have Grace,” she said. “Or they know who does. But they don’t know where she is. And Gunner… we have to get to her first.”
Something inside of him twisted in a knot, and then let go with a sharp and sudden wave of emotion. “We will. I promise. Tell me what you know.”
He listened while Lola told him about the man who’d kidnapped her the previous day, who she’d seen at the mall, and who these men had told her had taken Grace and Laurel both, trying to find out if they knew anything about whatever Sam had been mixed up in so many years ago. He listened, but if he was completely honest, he struggled to actually hear any of the words.
All this time, Sam had haunted him, her belief that Gunner’s love of bikes, riding, and being with people who loved it just as much as him, would get their baby killed. It had nearly broken their relationship dozens of times, and he had to admit that he’d wondered now and then if it had gotten Sam herself killed. But it hadn’t. None of it had shit to do with him. It was all about Sam, and her relentless passion and drive to right the wrongs of the world. It felt like a weight he’d carried for so many years was shifting off his chest, and he had the ability to draw a deep breath for the first time.
And with that weight shifted, he could see Lola with new eyes. Fresh eyes. This woman had walked through fire right alongside him, put herself in danger over and over with no guarantee that anything was going to get any better or be any different, and she’d never paused. She’d never questioned if it was the right thing to do. She’d just helped. She was beautiful. She was here, in his arms. And maybe it was the emotion talking, maybe it was the stress, but he could only think of one thing to do.
“I love you,” he whispered. Her eyes widened, and before he could scare himself wondering if she was surprised or happy or something in between, he kissed her.
He’d shared plenty of kisses with her in the past few days, and every one of them had been good. There was something about this one, though. Whether it was being surrounded by his family, or the thrill of life or death, or the knowledge that they finally had a good lead to try and get his daughter back, something felt amazing and deep and powerful. Kissing her felt more honest, more real, than it ever had before.
She seemed to share his feelings. She tightened her arms around him, molding her body to him, and letting out tiny little moans as he fit their mouths together perfectly. The kiss ended only when Horse let out a little throat clearing chuckle.
“All right, lovebirds,” Horse said. “Reunion’s over. Time to get cracking on to where the hell this girl is.”
Gunner forced himself to loosen his grip on Lola, but before he actually let go, she squeezed his hand. He glanced at her, and she mouthed the words, “I love you,” back before she let go of his hand. Something deep inside of him swelled, and he had to buckle down to keep from exploding into a grin that would have split his face open. He moved to Horse, who had his gun on the man who had been sitting opposite Lola, at the other end of the table.
“This is Damian Roth,” Horse said, his voice calm and level. “Runs a few banks downtown, but more importantly, keeps money clean for any number of dirty interests in the area.” He gestured with his chin at one of the Vipers, a tall and burly man with curly black hair and dark brown skin. “Carl ID’d him. Says the Vipers used to use his services, but that the company went dark a few years back, then resurfaced with a shiny new client list, and old friends were no longer welcome.”
Gunner nodded. He put his hip up on the table, trying to look conversational and “Good Cop.”
“I suppose you’ve already tried tracing the feed back to that camera?” He pointed at the screen without letting himself actually look at it. He didn’t want to see his little girl’s face, twisted with stress and worry.
Roth didn’t look up and didn’t say a thing. So much for “Good Cop” then; there was no way Gunner was going to be able to control himself in the face of a pissant in a business suit who thought he didn’t need to speak to a man who had a question. Horse was just going to need to be “Good Cop” for a change.
Gunner shifted his balance so that his foot rested on the edge of the chair, the steel toe of his motorcycle boot resting right on top of Roth’s junk.
“I’m not a patient man,” he said, keeping his voice as calm and level as he could. Which wasn’t very calm or level at this point, but hey, it was worth a try. “I’m going to ask again. And if you don’t answer me, I’m going to squash your fucking pencil dick into paste. We clear?”
He saw Roth’s jaw clench, but the man didn’t look up. He glanced at Horse, who nodded and gestured at one of the women who’d come along with them. She went to the bank of monitors and started tracing wires. As soon as she found the main computer bank, she pulled something out of a small knapsack, and he could hear the clicking of keyboard keys.
“We’re going to track down whatever you have going on here,” Gunner said, still striving to make his voice conversational. “I just want you to answer now, so you know that you will. So you know I don’t give a shit about what you think, what you want, what you think is most important. Who you think you might be protecting. Did you try and trace the signal yourself already?”
Roth was clearly gritting his teeth, expecting the pain. It seemed only right to give it to him.
It was a while before he screamed, but by then, Gunner had found out everything he needed to know.