Chapter Forty
Alone in the less than luxurious motel room, Kori hopped in the shower—a quick rinse to rid herself of the road. Then she brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and redressed.
Nervous energy fluttered in her stomach as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her foot wouldn’t stay still and bounced like the ground was laden with hot coals. She glanced at her phone.
All right. She did pretty well. Held it together like a champ for the fourteen minutes since Lucky left in a rush to investigate Acer’s cryptic and concerning text.
Good enough.
She sprang off the bed, stuffed her room key, identification, and some cash in her pocket, grabbed her phone, and darted out the door. Three minutes later she climbed into an Uber and sped off toward the clubhouse.
Maybe she needed to rethink being an ol’ lady, because it seemed she was shit at taking orders. Particularly the kind where she was told to stay away and out of her man’s business. Lucky would be pissed, but that was just too damn bad for him. She wasn’t the type of woman who could sit by and knit while the man she loved battled danger without backup.
And she did love him.
Another thing that was just too damn bad for him.
The six-minute drive felt more like an hour and somehow in that short time, she managed to think of every worst-case scenario possible. By the time the driver braked in front of the clubhouse, she was a jittery mess of extreme anxiety, convinced she’d find a clubhouse full of dead bikers.
“Thank you,” she managed to get out to the driver despite the arid quality of her mouth.
Men, both Vegas and Arizona, lingered in the parking lot, the tension so thick it was practically a fog around them. Acer hovered by the entrance to the clubhouse, arms folded across his chest, his head inclined toward the door.
Where the hell was Lucky?
A loud crash sounded from the clubhouse and Kori’s heart skipped multiple beats. Every head in the lot swiveled and stared at Acer. He frowned, but kept up his position as sentry.
Her legs felt disconnected, separated from her brain as they propelled her forward despite the screaming in her mind that this was a horrible idea. Something was wrong. Lucky should be out here. If she walked in that clubhouse and found him injured—or worse—she wouldn’t be held accountable for her actions.
“Kori! What the hell are you doing here?” Acer was the first to spot her and he vacated his post, tromping across the lot.
Yikes. He was one pissed off biker, and Lucky’s anger was guaranteed to be ten times more intense. Whatever. He could rail at her for hours as long as he was safe and unharmed.
“W-where’s Lucky?” She held her breath waiting for the answer.
“Kori…” Acer stopped her forward progression with a firm hand on each shoulder. “You need to go back to the motel. Now.”
Everyone stared at her, but after the show she put on at the meeting the week before, she was becoming accustomed to being a spectacle.
She shook her head. “Not happening. Where the hell is he?” Another crash broadcasted from the clubhouse and she met Acer’s sympathetic gaze. “Is he in there?” she whispered.
The door to the clubhouse flew open and Savage stumbled out looking like someone from a cheap slasher movie. No, not just someone. The lunatic-eyed murderer. Blood flowed from his nose and somewhere on his head, raining down his body and soaking his torn shirt. He still moved well, as though he suffered nothing more than a papercut.
“Oh my God.” All rational thought fled her mind. Self-preservation flew out the window. Thoughts of safety and her personal wellbeing, gone. She shoved Acer with all her might and darted around him charging for Savage.
“Kori, no!” Acer yelled from behind her, but his words glided in one ear and straight out the other.
“What the hell did you do to him?” Kori screamed as she rushed toward Savage. Her palm connected with his face before her brain had time to warn her of the danger in attacking such a lethal and furious man.
He was on her so fast, she never saw the assault coming. Pain exploded on the left side of her face as his fist collided with her cheek. The punched rattled her brain and stars danced in front of her vision. Unable to remain upright after being unbalanced by what felt like a Mack truck, Kori dropped like a stone on the unforgiving ground.
Disoriented, she tried to scramble away, but Savage was too big and too fast. His booted foot connected with her side and she screamed in agony. The next thing she knew, a crushing weight pressed down on her chest. Finally, her vision cleared and she looked into the face of a murderous Savage straddling her chest and impairing her ability to breathe.
She screamed, grappled, and slapped him with everything she had left, but she was no match for his strength. The bare skin of her upper back and shoulders felt like it was being ripped from her body as she struggled between a two-hundred-pound man and the scorching asphalt.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. The entire encounter couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds. Savage managed to connect one more face-smashing blow before he was violently yanked from her body. His boot snuck in one more rib shot while three huge men dragged him away. “You’re fucking dead, bitch,” he screamed. “I own you. I’m gonna fuck you then kill you while Lucky watches.”
Acer grasped her under the arms and pulled her back at the same time his brothers yanked Savage away. Her ribs screamed in protest, her head pounded like a heavy metal drummer had set up camp, and the abraded skin of her back scraped across the hot ground drawing a cry of distress from her.
While Lucky watches.
Lucky had to be alive to watch anything. A small seed of hope developed.
“Sweetie, we’re going to call an ambulance. Can you sit up so I can look at your back, or is it too painful to move?” Acer asked.
Just as she opened her mouth to answer, the clubhouse entrance opened again. Lucky erupted through the door like a Hollywood stunt man, a wild look in his eyes. Blood dripped from his nose and lip and a purple ring was swelling around one eye, but he appeared to be in better shape than Savage.
He spotted her sprawled on the ground, her head resting against Acer’s thighs and everything in him hardened. His eyes went flat, his posture grew rigid and he turned toward the men restraining Savage.
It was then she noticed the pistol dangling from Lucky’s right hand. This was it. Savage was a dead man. Kori’s stomach rolled over. “Lucky!” she cried. “Help me sit up,” she ordered Acer. Teeth gritted against the pain in her side and back, she muscled her way to a sitting position with Acer’s help. The world wobbled in front of her, but pushed through the pain and remained upright.
When Lucky turned, she shook her head. “Don’t kill him. Not over me. He’s not worth the energy to pull the trigger.”
His face was impassive. Did her words register? Was he too far gone into his rage to heed her advice? It wouldn’t be his first kill; he’d been a sniper for Christ’s sake. But that was different. That was for a purpose, to serve his country, defend freedoms. This would be straight up revenge, outside, in broad daylight. Sure, they were on the No Prisoners’ compound, but that didn’t guarantee immunity.
He nodded once then turned back to Savage who started laughing like a hyena when Kori asked Lucky to spare his life. Lucky hit Savage’s face in an open palmed slap that knocked the laughter out of him. Then he leaned in and said something Kori couldn’t hear.
Savage however didn’t miss a word and his bloody face paled. He ceased struggling and finally lost some of the overconfident swagger he always employed. It was as though the gravity of his situation just sunk in.
“Bring him around back and toss him in the van with Rebel. We’ll deal with them both in a few minutes,” Acer told the men holding Savage.
Good. Maybe it was wrong and a bit sadistic, but she preferred him to suffer a little rather than escape with a quick death.
Now that she’d laid eyes on Lucky, knew he was okay, everything that happened in the previous five minutes bubbled up inside of her and the emotional trauma came pouring out of her eyes.
Lucky spun around and started in her direction. Savage was hauled around the side of the clubhouse. Whatever his fate, Kori could wait until later to learn it. What she needed right now was Lucky. To touch him, kiss him, hold him. To cement with her mind and body that he was alive and planned to stay that way.
“Angel,” he whispered as he knelt next to her. He cupped her face between his battered hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.
She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and sob in his strong grip until there was nothing left inside her. But her ribs hurt so bad breathing was becoming a challenge. Instead, she settled for nuzzling her face into his palm.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” Lucky said as he rested his forehead against hers.
She shook her head, rocking it against his. “No. I’m okay.”
“Your back is ripped to shreds. It needs to be cleaned and bandaged.” When she didn’t answer right away, he brushed his nose against hers. “Please,” he whispered.
The soft plea was her undoing. She’d endangered her life, walked straight into danger, ignored his orders. Anger, yelling, perhaps even the silent treatment was what she expected from him. Not the sad, devastation that shone from his eyes. There was nothing she’d deny him in that moment. “Okay. But you need to go too.”
“Baby, I’m not leaving your side for a second. Maybe not ever.”
Despite everything that happened, happiness bloomed inside her. She was a fool for doubting Lucky’s feelings and worrying over the three little words he’d yet to say. They were just words. He showed her everyday just how very important she was to him.
“I meant you need to go checked out too.”
“Well if I’m going to be there anyway…” He shrugged.
Lucky and Acer helped her to her feet as the blaring siren of an ambulance entered the lot. No way was she going through the humiliation of being scooped off the ground by paramedics. Despite how hard she tried to suppress any outward show of pain, a small gasp escaped as she rose. The rib pain was truly excruciating.
“Random attack,” Lucky muttered as he slid an arm across her lower back and helped her hobble toward the ambulance.
“What?”
“We were attacked by an unknown assailant, right outside the clubhouse,” he said.
Oh, right. Jesus, she hadn’t even thought of the need for a cover story. There was a high chance the paramedics would alert the police after questioning them, if they weren’t on their way already. “Got it.”
She peered over her shoulder and found no sign of Savage. Most of the other guys retreated to the clubhouse and there was no evidence of the violence that went down just moments before.
Unfortunately, it still wasn’t over.
Rebel had been MIA since she arrived. Acer said something about him being in a van out back. Would they get out before the cops came?
The real question was, what did they plan to do with Rebel and Savage now?