I had been relegated to watching the proceedings with Doc and the dogs from behind the barricade of his truck that now blocked Rambler’s driveway. Niko wouldn’t be happy with that, but I didn’t care. More bikers had arrived—big, burly men, some I hadn’t met before. But I could easily recognize the swagger of fellow veterans. They had come to support their brothers, as apparently the balloon going up was some sort of code for shit is going down.

All hands were on deck, and all of them had come with everything they needed to blow said shit away.

Rambler stood alone in the road, his broad back to the rest of us as we waited.

Breath held, I watched the big black Caddy barrel down the road and skid to a halt in front of Rambler. Another nearly identical vehicle pulled up behind it, and a dozen Russians rushed out, including Nikolai Rusanov himself.

I struggled to keep myself composed. It hadn’t been that long since I’d last seen him. Definitely not long enough for me to forget how dangerous and ruthless he could be. Niko still looked as handsome and polished as ever, but I knew what kind of demon crawled beneath his aristocratic façade. I was quaking in fear, not just for me but for Rambler and his friends, too.

Doc gave me a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“There’s no fat lady singing yet, Ella. We’ve got this.”

“I hope so,” I whispered. “I don’t want to see any of you hurt or killed because of me.”

He would have answered, except Niko stepped up to Rambler. With a laugh, he spread his arms arrogantly wide and turned in a circle, taking in the men gathered on opposing sides. The tension pinging off me and hanging in the air was thick enough to cut.

“So I see we have boys on little bikes, thinking they have the balls to interfere in my business.” The condescending tone I’d grown to loathe rolled off Niko’s tongue. How had I ever found such a menacing and cruel man attractive? I’d walked away from my family and my career seven years ago for that bastard. I’d regretted it nearly every day since. “I am not seeing what is mine. Where are you, Ella?”

Rambler stood like a tree, firmly planted in the road. His thick arms were banded across his chest as he faced my nemesis. “Here’s the thing, asshole. I will fight for a woman, but I learned a long time ago never to fight over one. And just so we’re clear, I’m not fighting over Ella. She’s already mine.”

Rusanov threw back his head and laughed. Turning to face his men, he shook his head in disbelief. “You American fools think you can take what is not yours. Enough of this nonsense! Give me what I want or I will kill you all.”

My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to dash out from my designated safe spot and put myself between Niko and Rambler. Doc gripped my shoulder and stared me down with a dark warning. “Don’t you even think about it. If you truly love him, then believe in him.”

I blinked back at Doc. I wanted to believe in Rambler—in all of them—but could they really protect me from Niko?

“That’s funny, you commie cocksucker. Better men than you have tried. And all have failed.”

Terror gripped me. Rambler was baiting the bear. Why on earth would he deliberately piss Niko off? Didn’t he realize the danger he was in?

Apparently not.

He reached back and grabbed his T-shirt by the neck, pulling it over his head before throwing it to the ground between them. “You wanna dance, fucker? Bring it on. You and me. When I’m through with you, your face will look like a bowl of borsht. I’ll use my shirt down there to mop up your blood.”

Nikolai removed his jacket with slow, exacting precision and passed it to one of his associates. Then, he made a great show of removing his tie and shirt, one button at a time.

It was Rambler’s turn to laugh, “Good idea. You’ll need to save your clothes so they’ll look good when the mortician lays you out in your coffin.”

The glint in Niko’s eyes, along with the sneer on his lips, told me he’d reached his breaking point. While his men stood by, tense, stoic, and silent through the heated exchange, Rambler’s men had laughed and taunted Niko with slurs and insults.

The laughter died when my ex pulled out a heavy set of brass knuckles and slid them onto his fingers. Rambler didn’t look impressed or concerned. He simply reached into his back pocket and pulled out his Karambit. His fingers fit right into the holes, the wicked blade curving out from his fist.

Anxiousness gripped my stomach as the fighters faced off. The Russians lined one side of the road. The Americans stood nearly shoulder to shoulder on the other.

When the rumble began, it happened so fast.

A practiced fighter, Nikolai was quick. He enjoyed getting his hands dirty from time to time. His movements were a blur as he brought his fists up in a rapid one-two combo toward Rambler’s face, meaning to drop my big Marine where he stood.

But Rambler was quicker, more agile. More practiced. He dodged Niko’s strikes effortlessly as he brought the wicked curved blade of his knife up, slashing through the back of Niko’s hand.

A shocking, blood-curdling howl tore from Niko’s mouth as he grabbed his damaged hand and backed away, his eyes pinpoints of hate. The minute his blood spilled, all hell broke loose. Doc’s dog Sadie ripped off her leash and escaped the truck. When Doc raced after her, I didn’t think, I simply reacted.

Rambler caught sight of me leaving the relative safety of the truck. He turned a scowl toward me. “Get back now, Ella.”

By the time I realized I’d distracted him, it was too late. In my foolish attempt to help the man I loved, I’d given Niko his golden opportunity.

In horror, I watched my former lover draw a small pistol from his holster and aim it between Rambler’s shoulder blades with an evil smile.

He intended to enjoy this.

I had to do something.

“Rambler!” I screamed as I raced toward him.

When my Marine turned to assess the situation, the .45 tucked in the back of his pants glimmered in the sunlight.

Without thinking twice, I yanked the weapon free, aimed as much as I could with trembling hands, and fired.

The sound of my shot rent the air. Blood splattered. Niko’s eyes grew wide as he clutched the wound gaping in his chest. I don’t know who was more surprised—him, Rambler, or me. The men on both sides of the road stood in stunned silence as Rambler marched to where the fallen Russian lay, the useless gun still clutched in his hand.

“Dead. I told you you’d need the suit, fucker! Not that the gators will leave much.” Rambler sent me a concerned glance before turning back to Niko’s henchmen. “She is far more than any of you gave her credit for.”

The collective sound of the vets drawing and readying their weapons was deafening in the silence. We all watched Rambler drag Nikolai to the ditch and unceremoniously dump him over the edge.

Dozer stepped into the road, his weapon aimed at the Russians. “This might be a good time for you boys to leave. Nobody else needs to die today. But if you ever come back, we’ll slaughter you.”

With the head of their snake gone and the promise of death from Every Mother’s Son MC, the Russians nodded and eased back to their cars, leaving their slain boss where Rambler had tossed him.