No one fucking crosses me. I never lie or bullshit. My word is the gospel, and you better believe every fucking last word. I’m not a brother of the Hell’s Lovers MC, but they’re my family. By my side through thick and thin. Sent protection to guard my girl when we had our own trouble. The one man who stood by dedicating his time to keeping Caitlin safe was Brick. So, you better fucking believe they will pay crossing my own.

Blood will be shed at the mercy of my own hands, and not one single regret will be given. The plan is clearly laid out. The Hell’s Lovers chapter here in Denver knows exactly who these fuckers are. They’ve had eyes on them for some time now knowing this cartel was up to no good. So, when the call came in from Curtis, they were more than happy to help for more than a few reasons.

Rocker, the prez here, is a badass. He rules his club with an iron fist, much like Curtis. The difference is, Curtis is young for a prez, while Rocker has been around the block a few times. The man holds nothing back. Then there’s the Diamond family. These cunts won’t see the triad of death knocking on their front door.

Our men surround their pathetic excuse for a compound. Fools like these rely on their intimidation factor to keep the enemies at bay. They messed with the wrong folk this time. Intel was relayed back to Rocker. They have Brick in the warehouse and still no sighting of the boy. Our best guess is he’s in the house up on the hill a few hundred yards from the run-down excuse for a warehouse.

I wait fifteen minutes here behind a tree with the end of a barrel focused on the front door. My orders are to wait thirty minutes, then we go in.

“C’mon. C’mon. Little fuckers. Let’s play,” I sing to myself.

Safety off, my finger on the trigger, I’m breathing steady. My entire body thirsty to squeeze the trigger with ease, not missing my mark. Right between the eyes of my target. Fuck, I need this. I hear a whistle in the far-off distance. It’s the signal; five minutes and counting. I’m a selfish bastard, really, hoping that front door flies open.

There’s always a clock running in my mind. I know at least three minutes have passed since the call. Not one second of the day ticks by without me being aware and knowing it. Then it happens; the door swings open and four men step out.

“Game on, bitches.” I steady my breathing. Study the men through the scope to make sure none of them are Alejandro or Ricky. Those fuckers will still get a bullet, but one to take them down. Not a kill shot. The man has a meeting with me and Curtis. Those cunts have full access to the VIP line to their appointment.

None of the men are Ricky or Alejandro, so I play a lethal game of eeny, meeny, miney, mo. The fucker covered in the most blood and taller by a few feet than the rest is my first choice. It’s fucking Brick’s blood, that I have no doubt about. The crosshairs line up right between his eyes. I let out one final breath then squeeze. The silencer on my gun does its job, making no sound when the round is fired. The monster falls back. His compadres going for the Glocks, looking around. I want to laugh right now but don’t. I repeat the process over and over until they all lie on the ground.

I send my own whistle two times over then wait two full minutes before I’m on the move. The rifle with the silencer is tossed into the bushes, replaced with two automatic guns. My feet move with purpose and swift action. Before I’m at the entrance, Curtis is by my side. The crazy fucker isn’t supposed to be here. It’s not part of the plan. But one reason I love the man. He won’t be sitting idle while one his brothers are in danger. I give him a nod, then we proceed into the warehouse not making a sound.

There are two voices. One heavily influenced with an accent, while the other is a quivering mess. I turn to look at Curtis and smile like a kid on fucking Christmas morning. Jackpot, Bingo, and that flashy shit. We continue on our silent mission until we have a clear view of the two men.

Just like I suspected. A gutless, pleading Ricky being beaten down by Alejandro. There’s a mixture of Spanish and English spewing from his lips as he backhands Ricky over and over. The dumb fuck made a crucial mistake sending his men away. There isn’t one fucking person here to protect him. By the time his other men hear our guns, the other men will be attacking. Checkmate, cunts.

Curtis lets out an audible sigh. I see what made him do that. Brick. His lifeless body beaten and burnt on the ground. How we missed the smell of burning flesh when we snuck in is beyond me. I chalk it up to the excitement of cornering these rats in their own maze.

Curtis puts his hand on my shoulder. I know the man needs support right now. Seeing anyone in that shape would take you to your knees, but seeing Brick nearly knocks us both on our ass. I wait on Curtis. This is his war, and I’m his soldier. Always. Curtis steps out of the shadows. I’ve never seen him like this. The man has lost his shit and can only see one thing right now. Death. I’ve been there and experienced the same exact shit.

“Que chingaos.” Alejandro spins to see where the noise is coming from.

He’s greeted with four guns pointed his way. Curtis and I walk side by side, not missing a step. Unified doesn’t even begin to describe it. Ricky pisses himself. The sight is pathetic, like his slime ball soul. I laugh. The sardonic noise finally escapes me.

“The badass bikers finally came out to play.” Alejandro pulls a toothpick from his pocket and begins rolling it between his lips. “Been waiting on you, bitches. Got a bit bored and started playing with one of your men.”

Curtis flinches, and I know he’s fighting everything inside of him to not glance over to Brick.

Alejandro loves to hear himself talk, because the fucker doesn’t shut the hell up. “My men will be back in approximately thirty seconds. If you have the guts, do it now. You’ll never find the boy. He’s well past Tijuana in the heart of Mexico, learning the trait.”

The toothpick tumbles from his lips like a light match igniting the battle. At the same time, his hand reaches down to his waist. I never know what he’s going for because I’m faster. My finger pulls back the trigger just enough to send one round into his fucking foot. The squeal of pain the pig screams out fuels me, so I shoot his other fucking foot.

Ricky begins sobbing, throwing his arms up like we are here to save the fuck. I decide he needs a round in each foot as well. The fuckers fall to the ground. Curtis has his burner out, calling Rocker. I only hear his side of the conversation.

“Need the van and medic right fucking now. Warehouse is secure.”

Curtis throws his burner in the back pocket of his jeans then looks over to me. “House is clear, no sight of the boy.”

Curtis goes to Brick. The two pussies writhe in pain on the ground. This Alejandro character is all smoke hiding behind protection. The dumb fuck doesn’t even go for his Glock. He’s too worried about his thousand-dollar shoes and the pain he’s suffering. He has no idea what kind of hell is about to rain down on him.

I stride over to the two men and send my boot into their temples. They flop back on the unforgiving cement like dead fish. Then I’m over to Curtis, kneeling on the other side of Brick. Not many things can take me down leaving me speechless. In fact, there’s only been one. Caitlin in danger, and now this.

Never in my life have I witnessed torture like this. The only recognizable thing is a shred of his cut lying next to him. I glance up to Curtis to see a lone tear running down his face. His thumb swipes it away, then he’s up on his feet, striding over to Alejandro. I don’t stop him. I place two fingers on Brick’s wrist, finding a pulse, and keep it there while watching Curtis bring redemption to Brick.

He grabs the crisp collar of Alejandro’s shirt, pulling him up to his face. There’re words exchanged, but before Alejandro can respond, Curtis slams his head back into the concrete. He freezes peering over to Ricky.

“Where is the fucking boy,” he growls.

Ricky stutters; none of it making sense.

“Now,” Curtis roars.

“There-there’s a trap door on the second floor. It’s a closet at the end of a long hallway. Go to the back of the closet and there’s a code.”

“Get the fuck on with it,” Curtis interrupts him.

My brain counts out each pulse Brick gives me.

“The code is 4667. Wilder is down there with his nanny. He’s been protected the whole time.”

Curtis cuts him off. “Katch.”

Only one word is needed. I grab the gun and fire a shot, the target: Ricky’s nuts.

“If you’re lying, the next one is in your fucking head,” Curtis growls.

This time, it’s me reaching into my pocket with my free hand, relaying the information. I don’t hang up until I have confirmation.

“Yes, it’s like a fucking daycare down there. Eyes on the boy and the nanny.”

“Stand back. Guard the door until we get there,” I bark into the phone then end the call.

Curtis doesn’t need me to relay the message. Alejandro stirs underneath him.

“All I want to do is slam your fucking skull until your brains spill out on the ground.” Curtis pulls his knife from his hip. “But I’ve noticed you like leaving your mark.”

He flashes the blade in front of Alejandro’s face then tears his shirt open. Buttons scatter across the floor. Then nothing but blissful screams echo around the warehouse as Curtis carves his chest.

The large doors rise open and a van backs in. People scurry from the back. Men surround Brick paying attention to his wounds. It’s Rocker’s strong point in his club. Several of his brothers are former medics from the Army. They have Brick loaded up in the van and off. The last minute, his pulse was one hundred fifty-five or was it... The number is useless to me. The only comfort is there was a pulse.

I rise to my feet, cross my arms over my chest, and let Curtis finish what he started. Alejandro is marked with bleeding flesh. His final demise a long cut across his throat. Curtis leans back and roars as he bleeds out.

It doesn’t last long before he’s on Ricky. Curtis stalls. And I know exactly why. This was promised to Brick. All of us would’ve surrounded Brick as he took Ricky down. All the hours and sacrifice paid in full.

“Do him proud.” I nod to Curtis. “Make our boy Brick smile.”

Curtis doesn’t hesitate, taking it to Ricky just like the details explained on Zoe’s death report. He doesn’t miss a beat going to show how much he’s examined and studied that piece of paper. All too soon, Ricky’s body lies in his own pool of blood with the back of his head bashed out.

The man I call my best friend rises to his feet covered in blood with no resemblance left of his old self. A few brothers of the Denver chapter are there to take care of him. They usher him off to another waiting van.

I’m left alone in the warehouse. And before I know it, I’m moving, covering the dirt road leading up to the house. Not a person to be seen until I enter the closet where the member stands guard. He nods his head, letting me pass knowing damn well who I am.

The door is already cracked. I’m fucking baffled at how vicious Alejandro was yet had no security system in place. Burn in hell, cunt.

I take the steps two at a time. And by fucking God, I walk into a daycare just like the ones you see in those parenting magazines. A boy full of life and not ruined by the ways of the world sits in the corner putting together a puzzle. An elderly woman looking over him. My fucking heart stops just like it did the other night at the club when I saw my woman for a brief second and she whispered in my ear, “You did it. I’m pregnant.”

We’d been trying for months. My girl so broken over not being able to get pregnant. I read those fucking magazines and even experimented with different positions. Now, I stand here after the bloodshed I witnessed and see this.

Fuck me. I scrub my face silently watching from the steps. This is the end goal we all laid everything out for. Eden’s tirade during church. It all falls together, just like the puzzle his clumsy fingers fight to piece together. Never thought my world would come full circle until now. A woman, my complete opposite, brought it all to me. And I’ll be for damn sure taking it home to Brick and his lady. Apology and all.

I clear my throat and walk the rest of the way down the stairs. My appearance is always intimidating, but I don’t give a shit.

“Wilder,” his name slips from my lips.

The little boy’s head flips up. His caretaker steps back, pushing a panic button. I raise my hands over my head.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m taking the boy home to his aunt.”

“Eden!” His bright blue eyes fire to life. The table topples over as he hops up. “Is my mommy home from vacation?”

The question brings me to my knees and I respond with the only thing I know that comes to my mind.

“I’m taking you to your Aunt Eden. She’s missed you.”