Pax

 

“Fucking piece of shit!”

 

I fell back to the floor harshly, a grunt leaving my chest in a whoosh of air. The back of my head clunked against the damn floor, but otherwise, I was unharmed. Instantly, I reacted to the hand that had clamped down on my shoulder and dragged me down. I reached up for it, wrapping my own hand around the man’s wrist. Twisting it around awkwardly, I jerked him forward so that he had to fall across my body towards the floor.

 

The man slammed down onto the floor with an oomph. I followed through, twisting his wrist harder until he started hollering.

 

“Fuck, man!”

 

I kept applying pressure until I heard a snap. His screaming increased, louder than before. But even as he screamed, his skin went pale. His voice fumbled, and I heard him mutter something that sounded like “Jesus.” He looked about ready to pass out, but I helped him along in that respect. I cocked back my arm, balled my hand up into a tight fist, and then swung it forward. It made harsh contact with his face, and I felt something break beneath my knuckles.

 

His head fell back, and his whole body went limp, motionless.

 

“Dick,” I muttered, picking myself up off the floor. I reached my feet just in time to see Diego Huxton coming up from those stairs by the kitchen.

 

Guess I’d picked wrong with the second floor, I thought almost idly.

 

Even as the thought went through my head, the rest of my body was already reacting to Huxton’ presence. I didn’t want to give that cocksucker even a half a second to get the drop on me. I charged at him, crossing the expanse of the living room quickly as he reached behind him to the waistband of his jeans. I knew he was reaching for a gun, and I knew I couldn’t let him get to it.

 

As I raced, seemingly in slow motion, not moving anywhere near fast enough, I saw him pull the gun out from behind his back. Gritting my teeth, I braced for the bullet, hoping that I might still be able to catch him before it went off.

 

I didn’t.

 

The shot came, and it was instinct alone that saved me. My body dodged to the right as he leveled the barrel at me. A searing pain shot through my arm, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I slammed into Diego Huxton’ chest, colliding with him, even as he was about to shoot again.

 

“Fuck!” he yelled, trying to get the gun pointed at me again as I slammed him into the wall.

 

But my hand was already wrapping around his wrist, gripping tightly and shoving it against the wall to keep him from shoving that fucking gun in my face again. He spat at me and cursed, but I ignored him. I shoved his hand against the wall and then again until his fingers spasmed and he released the gun.

 

It clattered loudly to the floor, and for a brief second, both of us seemed to think that it would go off. But it didn’t. Now that he was unarmed, I cocked my arm back and readied myself to put him down, just as I’d done his man on the floor, but Huxton took the opportunity and used his free hand to plant against my chest and shove. I stumbled back. The man was strong, and while I thought I was stronger, that didn’t mean he didn’t pose a certain challenge.

 

Recovering my balance quickly, I went to charge for him again, but Huxton was already shoving off the wall and diving for the gun. I intercepted him, catching him in the midsection once more, sending us both tumbling to the ground this time. We rolled there, him reaching for the gun and me trying to hold him back. Briefly, I thought of going for either his gun or mine—my Benelli had fallen to the ground as I tangled with the jackass by the stairs—but I didn’t want to give him my back.

 

And I admitted it, I wanted to make him bleed with my own two hands.

 

We grappled on the floor, him trying for the gun and me trying to just get the better of him. We tumbled and moved until I finally got on top of him. Grabbing at his collar, I yanked my fist back and sent it flying towards his face. He moved his head to the side just as the blow landed, and I ended up doing little more than grazing the edge of his jaw. The rest of my fist continued to the floor beneath him, and that fucking hurt.

 

But I didn’t slow down, neither did he.

 

Realizing he was going to have to get me the hell off of him to get to his damn gun, he put three quick jabs to my side. He hit a kidney, the impact shooting intense pain up through my body. I groaned and for a second, felt like I couldn’t even move. He shoved me off of him and made another dive for the gun.

 

Even dazed, I knew I couldn’t let him get his weapon. I reached out with my hand and snagged his ankle. I jerked him back, causing him to slump forward and catch his chin on the hardwood floor. He spit out blood, probably from biting his tongue, but didn’t stop from going for the gun. He tried to kick me off, jerking his leg in my grip and shoving it back at me. I dodged a kick to the head and jerked at him again.

 

The hardwood floor worked in my favor, his clothes sliding easily on the smooth surface. I yanked him away from the gun and then tried my damnedest to get up onto my feet. I made it to my knees and crawled over Huxton, flipping him onto his back. From there, I threw another hard punch, this time making contact with his face. But when I went to hit him again, he caught my fist and bucked me off of him.

 

I went down on my back. He scrambled up, once more going for the gun, and I had half a damn moment to think that he was nothing but a chicken-shit, too scared to fight me like a man, desperate to get his damn weapon because he didn’t think he could win without it.

 

Then I had to shove the thoughts aside because I had to make sure he didn’t get to that gun. If he did, it wouldn’t matter how much stronger I was.

 

My arm and back stinging from the grazes of bullets and my kidney still sore, I leapt across the room for the gun in the hopes of reaching it first. We landed at about the same time, one on top of the other, and grappled for the gun. Neither of us were quiet able to reach it, but my fingers grazed the still warm metal of it. It wasn’t enough to grab the gun but it was enough to bat it away. I sent it sailing across the floor to disappear under a piece of antique furniture.

 

“You fucking bastard!” yelled Huxton, but we didn’t spend a lot of time chit-chatting.

 

He threw a hard kick to my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, then got to his feet. He pulled his leg back to let loose another kick, this time with more force thanks to his standing position. But I rolled away and quickly got my legs beneath me.

 

“What? Scared you have to fight me like a fucking man now?” I taunted him, wanting to get him riled up.

 

He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Scared? Of a pussy like you? Not likely.” But I thought he was despite his words. He hesitated for half a second, then charged at me. He swung wildly, catching the side of my jaw, but I didn’t stumble back. Instead, I threw a hard right to his ribs. The impact caused him some very obvious pain.

 

“Bastard,” he gasped.

 

I threw a second punch—this time a left—that collided harshly with the side of his head. He staggered backwards a couple of steps before regaining his footing. Then he swung at me wildly, catching the edge of my jaw and popping it backwards. It wasn’t a very pleasant feeling, but I bit back any cry of anger or pain.

 

Again, I swung at him, aiming for his head. But this time he was fast enough to move out of the way—or maybe I was just slowing because he seemed like he was starting to get winded—and my fist smashed into his shoulder instead. He let out a grunt of pain but didn’t let it deter him.

 

He shoved at me, then caught my next incoming punch. Using my own momentum against me, he tugged on my arm, drawing me forward. He wrapped his other arm around my neck and squeezed. Air got trapped between the room and my lungs, making me gasp. I fought back against the panic that came with suffocating as I tried desperately to suck in wind.

 

My hands clawed at his arm in an effort to get him off of me, even though the reasonable part of my brain told me that clawing at the thing around my neck wasn’t the way to go. It was funny how much instinct took over like that.

 

Huxton leaned forward until his cheek was practically pressed against my face. “What the fuck did you think was going to happen here, Pax, eh?” he asked me, his tone eager like he was suddenly enjoying this. I was sure that he was now that he wasn’t getting pummeled. “Did you think you were going to ride in here like some fucking white knight to save the damsel in distress?”

 

I didn’t answer him, partially because he was squeezing my neck and trying to choke me, but also in part because I sort of had had that image—the one where I came in with guns blazing to rescue Jamie from the evil claws of the Chaos Disciples. It was one I’d mostly tucked away, but the idea of saving her had permeated my thoughts as soon as I’d known she was taken. Protecting her had been in the forefront of my mind a lot over the last few days. There was no denying that.

 

But that didn’t mean I was going to fucking tell this son of a bitch any of that crap.

 

“That’s sweet, really,” he continued, working hard to keep his grip on me. “Too bad you’re too fucking late.”

 

For a second, everything froze—the sounds outside the house, the gunshots, the yelling, the stomping and the revving of motorcycles, everything stood suspended in time. The high intensity that was brought on by adrenaline that had, just moments ago, amped up all of my senses was suddenly dulled. The whole fight seemed to have stopped for just a moment as my brain struggled to process those words.

 

Too fucking late? What the fuck was he talking about?

 

“Oh? Did that upset you pretty bad?” asked Huxton, his tone mocking. He tightened his arm around my neck, but I suddenly had newfound reason to break loose—I needed to know what had happened to Jamie.

 

“Where the fuck is she?” I managed to choke out, getting my hands half-gripped around his forearm, just enough to get a little air down my throat.

 

He laughed, and I felt bile try to rise up my throat. I didn’t like that fucking sound, and all of me wanted to punch his fucking face until it stopped.

 

“Oh, she’s around,” he answered, and I could hear the grin in his voice, like he was some Joker rip-off. “In fact, she’s just down those fucking stairs.” He jerked his head behind us, presumably towards the stairs that he’d just come up from.

 

A little bit of hope trickled into my system. She was just down those stairs. All I had to do was get to her…

 

At least, that was what I thought, until he spoke again. “That’s right, just down those stairs. She’s tied to a chair. I fucked her up while she was there, and I really thought she could handle more. But I guess we all have our limits. Too bad she had to die to figure out where hers were.”

 

Cold washed through my system. It swept through my chest out to my extremities, numbing my hands, my fingers, my toes, and everything in between. I felt like I wasn’t breathing anymore, like I didn’t need to. When my whole body was enveloped by this numbness…that was when the rage came.

 

White-hot fire turned to a bright, blinding red swallowed my whole being. I saw in red. I tasted red. I smelled red. Everything was red, on fire, burning. My whole world was red.

 

It was effortless to squeeze Huxton’ forearm until he cried out and gave me enough room to jerk his arm away from my neck. It was easy to swing around and face him, to clock him hard with my fist right in the nose until something cracked and blood spurted out against my face and my shirt. Everything was easy, as though the hot fire burning through me fueled my body’s movements.

 

I threw my forehead against his and didn’t even feel it. He staggered back, his face bloodied, his eyes wide. For a second, he looked ready to turn and run. Somewhere buried deep down in the back of my mind, there was a voice that told me I could let him go and not worry about it, that he could survive this day.

 

But that voice was drowned out by the white hot rage that was consuming my whole being.

 

I stepped towards him, reaching out to grab him by the neck. My fingers dug into the skin there, choking him. His eyes went wide and his hands went to do the same thing I’d been doing only moments before. They clawed desperately at my hand, scraping and snatching at me, anything to get me away from his throat. But I didn’t let him get away. I held on to him tightly, my fist closing in tighter and tighter on his throat. At the same time, I forced him to back up farther and farther.

 

He tripped over something, a table, a chair, the fucking rug, whatever. He fell. But if he thought that would be his escape, he was wrong. Dead wrong. I followed him down, straddling him and pinning him down to the ground. I punched him. Over and over again, until I felt his face break. Then there were only squishing sounds as I pummeled his flesh.

 

Jamie was dead.

 

Pain erupted through me all over again. Raw, hot pain that was all-consuming. It started in my chest and continued outward until I felt like I might implode.

 

My hands went to Huxton’ face. He’d stopped moving a while ago, but I couldn’t let up. That red, boiling rage was still controlling me, fueling me and pushing me forward. I gripped his head in both of my hands. I didn’t even register what I was doing. Pulling his head up off the floor, I slammed it back down against the hard wood. Then I did it again. And again. And again, until there was a pool of red beneath his head, and I was pretty sure that I’d cracked his skull.

 

Beneath me, he was unmoving, completely unresponsive. His chest didn’t rise with breaths, his arms didn’t try to ward me off. Nothing. He was motionless.

 

I, however, was breathing heavily. Red still clouded my vision, and it made me wonder if I really saw the blood on my hands or if everything had just turned that color. The floor, my hands, his face…

 

There was some part of me that was still aware of reality, a tiny part that I could barely even consider right now. It was telling me that Huxton was dead and I’d killed him—with my bare hands. As that tiny part whispered to me of what I’d done, the red started to fade. It was still there, though, an inconsolable emotion that clutched at me tighter than I could possibly imagine. But it wasn’t the same emotion. It wasn’t the rage. It was something else.

 

My shoulders slumped as I stared down at the body of the man who had killed Jamie.

 

That anger threatened to sweep over me once more, but I was burned out, and the man was dead. I couldn’t make him any more dead. I would probably have tried if there was any possibility of such.

 

Slowly, I got up. My limbs were shaking, and I felt unsteady on my feet. My eyes remained trained on the lifeless body below me.

 

I wasn’t sure what I needed to do just then. I suddenly felt…lost, like my whole purpose for being here was gone. Even though I knew I was being dramatic, that I was…that I had other reasons to storm the Chaos Disciples’ headquarters. But even as I knew that, it was hard to see the point anymore. My main purpose for the raid was to rescue Jamie.

 

I’d failed the person who needed me the most. Jesus fucking Christ. Jamie’s dead. She’s…she’s dead.

 

My body trembled, and for a second, I thought I was going to crumple back down to the floor. But I was too strong for that, even if I didn’t feel it right then. I might have stood there staring at that fucking dead man, thinking of all the damage he’d caused, forever if I hadn’t heard the soft voice filtering across the room.

 

There was still a lot of racket going on outside, though it had settled significantly since our arrival, yet somehow, I had absolutely no trouble hearing her soft, sweet tone.

 

“Pax?”

 

Trembling, my head turned towards the sound of that voice. My name had never sounded so sweet, and for half a fucking second, I thought I must have been imagining the whole damn thing. But then my eyes landed on her. She was so goddamned beautiful that I felt my heart beating to get out of my chest just to be with her.

 

“Jamie? You’re…” I couldn’t and wouldn’t say dead, so I just broke off and left it there.

 

He said she was dead. That lying sack of shit. Dead shit. Lying sack of dead shit.

 

A strange cocktail of anger and relief swam through me, making my body tremble with the intensity of it. My eyes drank in her features, sipping in her sweetness. Her shirt was speckled with what looked like dark spots of blood. Her hair was tangled and messy. Her cheeks were unnaturally red, bruises beginning to form there. And her feet were bare beneath those long jean-clad legs of hers.

 

She looked like a total fucking mess, and I didn’t think she’d ever looked so damn beautiful before.

 

She smiled tentatively at me, but I saw it drop a little as her eyes slipped down to the floor near my feet—where the dead body was. I sucked in a breath, for the first time worried about the repercussions of my actions.

 

Would she freak out? Would she call me monster and murderer?

 

I knew the body looked bad. I’d given it a real beating, but I couldn’t say I was sorry for it, not when I knew for sure that I’d do it all over again.

 

“Is he…?”

 

She stopped short of finishing her question, likely realizing how stupid it was. If I was guessing right, she wanted to ask if Huxton was dead. And there was no doubt that he absolutely was. Unquestioningly. You didn’t look like a sack of beaten, ground-up hamburger meat and continue to breathe.

 

Swallowing down those words, she returned her focus to me. “You came to save me?” She said it like a question, though I could see the hope in her eyes, like she wanted it to be a statement. Like she wanted it to be the truth.

 

It is, baby, it fucking is.

 

I stepped over the body, not even glancing at it and went towards her. She was the only thing I wanted to fucking see, ever. She was gorgeous, perfect. “I said I would, didn’t I?” I pointed out, closing the space between us. I hesitated, not sure if I should risk an embrace. I wasn’t the type to be worried about taking what I wanted, but right now, I was. Blood coated my hands and my clothes. Huxton’ blood stained the hardwood floors, his face caved in by my own fists.

 

Maybe now wasn’t the time to be overconfident in exactly what she wanted from me.

 

She seemed to be trembling, and I now noticed that there were red, raw rings around her wrists and her ankles. She’d been handcuffed. How the hell did she get free?

 

Biting her lip, her eyes seemed to go over my every feature. Finally, she said, “No. You said you’d come back for me.”

 

Throwing caution to the wind, I reached for her. Grabbing her by the hips, I jerked her to me. Pressing our bodies together, I captured her mouth with a kiss that spoke of my rage at losing her and my relief at finding her again. She melted beneath me like butter in the sun. My hands slipped from her hips to move around to the small of her back, clutching her to me until our bodies were pressed so close together that we could be fused together into the same being. One heart, one soul, one mind.

 

My tongue explored her mouth, digging and delving to make sure that I’d explored every inch of space there, to prove to myself that she was here and she was alive. And she was fucking mine.

 

Her lips were soft and swollen by the time I finally pulled back. Her eyes fluttered, her lashes sweeping against her red cheeks, before opening to look up at me again.

 

“Same difference,” I finally told her, feeling breathless and almost…giddy, not a normal feeling for me, but I embraced it today. It was a good feeling. Everything was a good feeling right now. Jamie was alive. I’d get her out of here, and she’d be okay.

 

She licked her lips as her eyes dropped down to my mouth. She looked ready to kiss me again but resisted, despite my personal willingness to let her do just about anything she wanted to me right then.

 

“Kato,” she blurted.

 

I blinked at her. “What?” What in the fuck was she doing talking about Kato at a time like this? A second later, I felt like a complete fucking dick. Both she and Kato had been sent with Alex—who was dead now, dammit, that poor kid—for their own protection while I took care of the Chaos Disciples. It had backfired, but of course, Kato would be here, too. They’d taken him alive…at least, it had certainly seemed that way.

 

“Is he here?” I demanded, glancing towards the stairs she’d just come from.

 

She nodded her head quickly. “Yes, he is. He’s downstairs, but…but he was held in a different room.” She winced, looking legitimately upset and not for herself, though she had every right to that. Instead, she looked guilty and sad, eaten up over something. “Oh, God, they did horrible things to him.”

 

My brows pulled together. “You saw?” I wasn’t surprised that they’d tortured Kato. If I’d had one of their guys…well, I’d have probably done the same, especially if it meant saving my own guys.

 

She shook her head. “No. I…I heard them. Through the wall. They…he—” she gestured to Huxton’ bloodied body, “—had him tortured. Every time I didn’t answer a question, he ordered them to torture Kato. Oh, God, it was awful.”

 

Her eyes grew watery, her lashes damp with tears that were threatening to spill down those rosy cheeks of hers at any moment. Just before they fell, she buried her face against my chest and clung to me like her life depended on it. I let her hold on like that for only a few brief seconds before pulling her back.

 

“We need to find him.”

 

She nodded. We hurried down the stairs. As soon as we got there, I noticed the light pointed over the row of silvery tools—knives and scalpels and other, more creative things that I instantly knew were meant for torturing. But they were shiny and clean, leading me to believe that, at least, they hadn’t used them on Jamie.

 

Kato was another story.

 

Other than that one light, the room was pretty dark. I could just make out a chair overturned on the floor, and a body lying not too far from it.

 

“I—” Jamie began, but I cut her off quickly.

 

“It doesn’t matter. You did what you had to,” I told her, referring to the body. Most people weren’t comfortable with killing someone, and I was willing to bet she definitely wasn’t. She was a nurse, meant to help people, but it sure as hell looked like that poor bastard was dead. If I had to guess, it was a good fucking thing, too. I had the feeling the reason he was dead was his own damn fault.

 

Jamie didn’t say anything else. She just hugged herself, staring down at the body. I needed her to get away from him before it really started to eat her up. Right now, she mostly seemed like she was in shock.

 

“We need to find Kato,” I told her sternly in my best demanding and commanding tone.

 

Her head jerked up, her gaze moving away from the body to find me again. “Right,” she murmured. It looked like it took everything she had but she kept her eyes from landing on the body again.

 

Together, we began searching the room. There wasn’t a lot in there, but there had to be a door or something that led to the other room. Otherwise, we were missing a very noticeable staircase upstairs.

 

I was just about to suggest that maybe there actually was a second staircase when Jamie let out a yelp of triumph.

 

“Pax! Here!”

 

I hurried over to her and saw what she was excited about—a door. I tried the knob, and it was open. Someone must have decided he wasn’t worth worrying about with all the excitement upstairs. Briefly my mind wandered there. Were my men winning? Losing? Were they all dead?

 

No, they know how to handle themselves.

 

Jerking the door open, I stepped through and then froze. It was only for a second as I took in Kato dangling from a chain, his arms suspended over his head as he half stood, half slumped into a pan of water. Across his bare chest, amidst the myriad of other wounds on their way to healing, were burn marks—black stains where someone had clearly pressed the connects to a car battery. The battery was sitting not far from him, the attachments hanging loosely from it.

 

Normally, I’d have cursed and told him he looked like shit, but Jamie was right behind me. I didn’t want to freak her out any more than she already was, and I hoped that being calm myself might do the trick.

 

Unfreezing, I walked farther into the room, knowing that Jamie was directly behind me and that she would witness all of this in a matter of moments.

 

I heard the exact moment when she did see him.

 

There was a gasp behind me and then a muffled sob like she’d slapped her hand across her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the sound. The urge to glance back at her, to check that she was alright, was strong, but I ignored it in favor of helping Kato.

 

I crossed the room to him in quick strides. When I reached for his wrists, preparing to catch him when I released him, he jerked back from my touch. My eyebrows shot skyward. I really hadn’t expected him to be even semi-conscious. Hell, I was half convinced he was already dead…

 

“Kato? It’s me.” My voice was gruff, pissed off and concerned at the same time.

 

“Boss?” he croaked. His voice sounded awful, like he’d swallowed a bunch of broken glass.

 

I had to shove that image away quickly because I wouldn’t have put it passed them to try some crazy shit like that.

 

“Yeah.” There was a long stretch of silence, then I cleared my throat. “Think you can manage to stay out of fucking trouble for two damned minutes?”

 

He laughed…or tried to anyway. The sound was more of a burst of air from his lungs, followed by a wince from the movement. I gave him a second to compose himself before speaking again. Licking his lips, he said, “Don’t worry about me. Worry about Jamie. She—”

 

“I’m here.” She stepped forward, though Kato’s eyes were half closed, so I didn’t know if he could see her.

 

But more to the point, what the hell? I was thoroughly caught off guard by the concern in his tone. When I’d left the two of them together, I’d been worried that he’d try to kill her himself. It was only a confidence in my own orders that made me comfortable enough to leave him alone—well, mostly alone—with her. Now he was worried about her personal safety?

 

Staring at me with bleary eyes, he must have seen the surprise written across my face because he grinned at me. It wasn’t a pretty expression at that moment. “What? Torture can change a man.”

 

Despite the joking tone he used, there was real honesty beneath it. Torture really could change a man, and right now, he looked almost…haunted. I stared at him stupidly for a while, and it was actually Jamie, brushing past me, that went to Kato.

 

Her fingers dusted along his exposed chest, and something in me tightened. I had to remind myself that he was injured and that she was a nurse by trade, that there wasn’t a damn thing sexual about it. That was the only thing that kept me calm and just barely, at that.

 

“Don’t worry, Kato,” she told him in a cheery voice that I imagined was her bedside tone. “These wounds look pretty superficial. With a little burn cream and some nursing, you’ll be as good as new.”

 

Kato let out another hoarse laugh. “Sure, sure,” he told her, but his face remained grim, despite his attempt at lightheartedness.

 

I swallowed, then went to his wrists again. “I’m going to get you down, okay? Lean on me.”

 

Kato nodded.

 

They were cuffs around his wrists, attached to a chain, and I realized my mistake. I didn’t have a damn key. And while I could pick locks, I wasn’t likely to do it without a damn kit. I should have been more prepared, but when I left, I hadn’t anticipated having to rescue hostages.

 

Before I could get too frustrated with the whole thing, Jamie nudged me. “Here. See if one of these works.”

 

I glanced down to see that she was offering me up a set of two keys. Frowning, I asked, “Where the hell did you get these?”

 

Her eyes shifted slightly until she was staring past me and out of the room, her eyes focusing on the floor in the next room to the man, the dead one, who was lying on the floor. Anger rose swiftly. It was so strong that I felt like trying to rip those handcuffs open with my bare hands, which would have been infinitely stupid, and thankfully, I could curb myself enough to avoid that moment of stupidity.

 

Taking the keys, I put my hand against her cheek, pulling her gaze away from the body and back to me. “Thanks, baby,” I told her.

 

She nodded, forcing a shaky smile.

 

I tried one key first, then the other. The second one actually worked, which was a huge relief. Kato slumped forward heavily, and I only just managed to catch him. He barely put any weight on his legs for a moment, but with me bracing him and Jamie going to his other side, he managed to half-walk, half-stumble out of that damn bin of water.

 

We were in the midst of slowly dragging him out of the room when one of the boys came rushing down the stairs. It was Jarren. “Boss! We’ve got ‘em. Bastards started running and surrendering left and right once they realized that Huxton was dead. Shit, have you seen him? Fucking head’s bashed in!”

 

I gritted my teeth, thinking of the rage I’d seen, but Jamie barely batted an eyelash, and Kato was too wounded to really poke at the topic. He’d do that later, I was sure.

 

“How many you got upstairs?”

 

Jarren shrugged his big shoulders. “Fuck, boss, I don’t know. A dozen? More? We lost a bunch who were too fucking chicken-shit to stay and fight and more died. But some just put down their weapons, man. It’s been crazy!”

 

I believed it. Occupied with Kato, I urged Jarren down the stairs. When he caught sight of the injured man, he swore. Kato looked pretty bad. Jarren brushed Jamie aside and took up Kato’s weight on her side. Together, we hauled him up the stairs to the main part of the house. Jamie trailed behind us.

 

When we got to the living room, I saw that Jarren hadn’t been kidding. The living room had about fifteen men sitting down, legs pretzeled beneath them, with my men holding guns trained on them. They looked about as happy as a kid without his candy, but they sat without a fuss. I motioned Chevy over, and he willingly took my place beneath Kato.

 

“Get them outside.” I motioned towards both Kato and Jamie. Hesitating, I thought for a second, then said, “Get the keys to one of the cars outside. Kato’s not going to be able to ride.”

 

Chevy nodded and both he and Jarren carried Kato outside. Jamie, however, lingered. She folded her arms across her chest, and I remembered how damn stubborn she could be.

 

“What, woman?” I asked, irritation spiking quickly.

 

She lifted her chin. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

 

I fixed her with a glare, but secretly, I was pleased. She was mine, and in my eyes, her statement meant that she now knew it, too. “You’ll do what I fucking tell you.”

 

“The hell I will!”

 

I laughed, running a hand through my hair. The only one that didn’t listen to me was a damn woman. Figured. “Just go, woman. We’re all leaving.”

 

She hesitated, her eyes darting from the dead Huxton lying on the floor to the row of men lined up along the walls. I could practically see her mind ticking through scenarios of what I might do. Part of me felt sort of insulted that she thought I would just outright kill these men. I would have done so in battle, sure, but what would be the honor in an execution?

 

Finally, she made up her mind about something, then stepped forward. Her hands ended up on either side of my face, then she pulled me in for a long, lingering kiss. There was passion, a little anger, and a lot of relief in that kiss. When she broke away, we were both breathless.

 

“Fine,” she said, then she followed Kato and the others out.

 

For a second, I just watched her go. When the door closed behind her, I turned to my men and the remaining Chaos Disciples. I addressed them with a hard, edged voice. “You boys wanna live?”

 

They didn’t say anything.

 

“Well? Fucking do you?” I boomed.

 

Several of them murmured “Yes” in response. I grinned. “Good. Then abandon the Disciples. Your leader is dead, and if I see one more of you flying those colors, I’ll make sure the rest of you are, too. I’m giving you one chance to walk. If you fuck it up, it’ll be the last decision you ever get to make.” I motioned to my guys. “Get these assholes out of here.”

 

They did so quickly, but before they all left, I pulled one of my guys aside—Lonnie was his name. “I need something from you…”

 

He nodded quickly and rushed outside. A few minutes later, all of the men were outside. My guys were still holding them at gunpoint. Lonnie came back inside carrying three gas cans. “Found what I could, boss.”

 

I nodded in approval. “Good. Start upstairs.”

 

He took one of the cans and hurried to the second floor. I started with the basement, dumping gas along the walls, the body, the chairs—everything. I trailed it up the stairs and then started on the first floor just as Lonnie started coming down the stairs from the second. He made sure to coat those stairs, too.

 

We used the last gas can for the first floor, and when I felt that wasn’t enough, I went to the kitchen and turned on the stove and the burners. I found a couple of bottles of alcohol, motioned for Lonnie to leave, and brought the bottles with me to the porch. I dumped them out there.

 

That was when I flicked open my Zippo and threw it on the porch.

 

It didn’t take much for the place to go up. Once the fire caught, there was no stopping it. The house was old, the furniture antique, and everything was doused in gasoline. There was no chance that the place would survive.

 

Turning back to the men who were being forced to watch the blaze, I announced to them, “The Chaos Disciples are dead! This is Hellrider territory!”