Bryce’s eyes were locked on mine, full of resignation and pain. Before this moment I never noticed how they were the exact same color as my own but bluer and how the scar running along the left side of his face had distorted his appearance enough to distract me from the truth. We were nearly the spitting image of one another, a little over a year apart. I can’t believe I was so blind.

Rafe’s gaze met mine and whatever he saw on my face made him turn to Bryce. Dawning realization filled his eyes when he saw that I knew, along with a deviant grin that sent chills along my spine. Quick as a flash, I whipped my gun in his direction certain he was going to try to kill Bryce.

A low rumbling laugh filled the air, but it wasn’t Rafe.

“Stand down Edge, or I’ll make sure your brother dies before you can pull the trigger,” Striker’s words were full of menace and glee. He enjoyed the palpable fear that hung in the air, knowing he held the ace and all the control, “Step away from Rafe and drop the gun.”

Bryce shook his head, but I couldn’t let anything happen to the only blood I had besides Mack. The two of them, Rae, and my MC family were everything to me, and I wasn’t willing to lose any one of them. Dropping the gun slowly and raising my hands I turned to Striker, “Let Bryce go. The bad blood is between you, me, and Rafe.”

“True enough Edge, but I’m afraid you don’t know the entire story.”

“Tell me then,” I spat, moving forward until I could catch Bryce’s eyes. Silent understanding past between us and I smiled, ticking my head in Rafe’s direction. “What does Rafe and the RRMC have to do with you and the Outlaws?”

Striker chuckled, his gun moving from my chest to point directly at my brother. I broke out in a cold sweat, my chest constricting at the realization that Striker hated his own son.

Why?

“Why don’t we all just calm down?” a new voice joined us, one that caused my heart to beat faster.

My father.

Mack assessed the situation with raised hands, moving steadily forward until he stood in front of me, addressing Striker and ignoring Rafe’s snarl of displeasure, “I don’t think all our dirty laundry needs aired out in front of both MCs, do you Striker?”

The thoughtful expression on Striker’s face surprised me.

“You’re right Mack. It’s time you, me, the boys, Rafe, and Rae had a nice long chat.”

“Fuck that!” I yelled, running forward to take this asshole out before he could pull the trigger.

Mack tackled me the same moment Rafe turned to Striker and nodded, disappearing into the house. In a panic I fought my father, hitting him in the jaw with a strong left hook, and flinging him off, prepared to stop Rafe from going after Rae.

“I wouldn’t move boy,” Striker sneered. “You interfere in any way right now, and I’ll not only shoot both you and Bryce, but I’ll also take Rae out too.”

Fuck!

My chest heaving, spots dancing in my peripheral from lack of oxygen, I tried to plead with him. No longer caring if I looked weak, all I thought about was protecting Rae from this motherfucker and preventing her from joining us. “Why don’t we just go? Rae doesn’t have to be involved.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. This concerns her too.”

Rafe exited the clubhouse with Rae, one hand wrapped around her upper arm as her eyes sought me out immediately, “Pete!”

“It’s ok baby,” I assured her, willing Rae to stay calm. “We’ll get through this.”

Her eyes darted around in confusion. I sensed her panic and fear. Shaking my head at her I hoped she would try to stay calm.

So many MC members on both sides remained quiet, waiting for their next move to be ordered from their Pres. Rafe held onto Rae and led her away from me, barking out commands at my brothers.

No one was to follow us.

“On your bike Edge. You too Mack.”

I met R.J.’s angry gaze and Jake’s fierce expression. They would follow at a safe distance. I didn’t doubt it. Ghost, Valan, and GQ looked ready to spring into action but I ticked my head toward Rae, and they immediately knew what I meant. I wouldn’t risk her life in any way. They had to proceed with caution.

R.J. clenched his fists at his side but nodded as I stood, stomping away from Mack. My brothers were holding back their emotions for me, but I could still feel their anger. I frowned in their direction and ticked my head toward Striker.

No hasty decisions or movement.

He wouldn’t hesitate to kill Rae.

Striker indicated a few of the Outlaws to grab Bryce. He winced as they pulled him up and threw him in the back of a black van, none too gently. His grunt broke my heart, but it was Rae shoved in next that made me see red. The doors were locked as Striker and three of his guys climbed in.

“Don’t Pete. She’s safe enough for now. Just get your ass on your bike.”

Mack’s words didn’t mean anything to me. In fact, I was pissed, “She gets a scratch, and I take it out on you.”

He simply nodded in agreement, “Let’s go.”

***

SHIT. This was bad. Really bad.

Either these guys were stupid, they underestimated me, or it didn’t occur to them that I should be searched and my phone confiscated. I listened to their conversation up front, a metal grating providing little barrier to their words as Bryce and I were tossed around in the back. He moaned and tried to brace himself against the side with his feet to keep from barreling into the hard metal rear doors. We were headed to some warehouse out at the junkyard. Dick’s Scrapyard.

Why did those places always have stupid names?

I’d been in this van before, so I knew there was no way out until we stopped.

My fingers shook with my frazzled nerves as I swiped my finger across my contacts on my cell. I hurried to make sure it was on vibrate only and let out a ragged breath. Who did I ask for help?

I immediately thought of Sims. The detective had placed his info on my phone, directly into my I.C.E. list. Well, I’d say this qualified as an emergency.

I tried to call him first, hoping he could trace the call and find our location. He didn’t answer but went straight to voicemail. Three times.

How was this possible? Det. Sims always answered my calls quickly.

I texted him, waited a couple of minutes and texted again. Still nothing.

What kind of detective was that man? He was always so attentive and protective, someone I could count on. What was happening?

I didn’t know who else to turn to after all this time. The only person that made sense was Beckett. He was the sheriff of Providences’ son. Surely by now he was also an officer.

My fingers flew across the keys as I sent a quick, urgent message, praying he still had the same phone number. I warned him not to try my cell since I was sure to get it confiscated.

“Who are you texting?” Bryce’s low whisper sounded wheezy.

Shit. He was hurt, bad.

I added another text asking Beck to send an ambulance too.

“Beck. How hurt are you?” I asked, concerned.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sure you will.” stupid biker. “I can hear your lungs. They sound like you might have punctured one.”

“Yeah,” he answered dryly. “It was all me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Listen you stubborn idiot,” I began, thinking he reminded me an awful lot of Pete right now. “You’re hurt and any minute now we’ll be stopping. I don’t know what they have planned but don’t get any heroic ideas. You’re too badly hurt.”

He smirked and winced as the van swerved to the right and we collided, “As much as I enjoy your company doll, I’m not really up for the physical exertion. Of course, if you flashed those perky tits I might become a little more motivated.”

My eyes narrowed as he chuckled low. Sighing, I slipped my phone into my back pocket and lay down next to Bryce. He sounded worse. Maybe if I took up enough space in the van on the floor with my body he wouldn’t roll around so much.

“What are you doing?” he hissed as I spread out and tried to keep him still on the left side.

We hit a ditch or pothole and lifted off the ground before slamming back down. My arms shot out and kept him still as the movement settled.

“Keeping you from dying!” I whisper yelled. Oh yeah, it’s definitely a thing.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a survivor.”

My eyes swept over the long scar traveling down the left side of his face. I shivered, not from disgust of his looks but from the man who could inflict such cruelty, “Was it Striker?”

He shrugged but then winced in pain, “Does it matter? It’s been a constant all my life.”

Oh God, “I’m sorry Bryce.”

He waved my words away, but I could tell he wasn’t used to anyone caring about him, “Rae, you’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met, but I think I understand why Edge loves you so much.”

I’d been trying not to think of him up until this moment. Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I wasn’t giving up, and neither was Bryce.

“We’re making it out of here and we’re going to survive, so grow a pair of balls and suck it up buttercup. You’re stuck with me.”

He coughed a little and I heard the wheezing again, “I’ll remember that later.” The threat was sort of empty considering we were both probably going to die.

“I’m sure you will,” I retorted, worried about his condition. “You just make sure you survive.”

“Got it, sweet stuff.”