DAHLIA ALDRIDGE
The car that we took was one I’d never seen before. It was a legitimate armored vehicle, and there were ten others, five on either side of us, as we finally pulled out onto the street. Turning back around, I looked at the gates closing on Wildberry. I still felt the same as I always had about it—I loved every single element of it—but when I came back from this, life was going to change. Drastically.
It was going to be the beginning of something new, and I couldn’t wait.
The drive to the Denim Moths clubhouse was a quiet one, and I was tucked between the twins, watching the dark scenery go by. As we drew closer, King’s hand wrapped around my throat from behind. I looked up at him, his expression both serious and intense, more alert than before.
I had no idea what had snapped him out of it this time, but clearly something had. I would have to ask him later.
“I need you to promise me, princess, that if I tell you to do something, you will listen. Even if it’s to run. I don’t foresee any of this being a problem, but I need you to promise me anyway.”
“I can’t run very well right now…” I teased. His eyes narrowed, not amused that I was trying to make light of the situation. “Okay, okay, fine. I promise.”
“I love you,” Kingston murmured.
“I love you too.” I tilted my head back down and looked around the car. “I love all of you.”
All of them offered me different versions of the same intense, heated look, but before any of them could say anything back, we arrived at the clubhouse.
Before we’d even come to a complete stop, men poured from the building, flooding the space in front of what appeared to be a warehouse. Not that I could pay attention to that, because they were firing at the armored vehicles, my eyes going wide at the amount of firepower. King grunted and picked up his radio, commanding, “Exit through the other side of the vehicles. Let’s mow down these fuckers.”
And they did exactly that. I didn’t even try to leave the car as they got out along with a ton of the other men, immediately rounding the vehicles, overtaking the Denim Moths by numbers alone. I watched as bodies jolted with the thud of a bullet, target after target falling to the ground. The sound of gunfire was constant as I watched my guys join the other men we had brought with us. Men who did not look like normal security and were for sure not the FBI.
After several moments, the gunfire ceased, and Stratton opened the car door for me. As I stepped out, everyone was watching the entrance of the warehouse in anticipation. I didn’t say anything, going quiet, until a small surprised noise left my throat, massive field lights illuminating the area. The scent of pot and alcohol wafted from the clubhouse, and I was confused for a minute why we weren’t going in.
“There isn’t another exit. They have to come out; we have the entire space surrounded,” Stratton murmured.
“You have exactly one minute until I torch this entire fucking clubhouse!” King announced, looking almost a bit bored, but his body language showed how tense he was. I nibbled my lip as I looked back at the door, and my eyes widened in shock.
Well, I would not have expected that.
Along with the ass from the fight, the one who threatened Stratton since he refused to join the Moths, Robert Brooks, of all people, came out behind him.
“Fucking Julian—” Stratton bit out quietly, looking pissed.
Julian, the ass in question, seemed to almost be guarding Brooks, a gun in his hands as he eyed all of the bodies in front of him. More men came from the warehouse but no one shot, everyone seeming to be waiting on someone else to make the next move.
I couldn’t stop looking at Robert Brooks though.
He seemed…different. The suit was gone, first of all, and he was dressed almost like he was working on a ranch. He wore dark cowboy boots and had two guns strapped to his chest, wearing only a dark tank and showing off extensive tattoos. I seriously had no idea what to make of this man. He was clearly the same person, but he looked far more dangerous than before.
When his gaze met mine, he smirked before looking at King. “Kingston Ross, what can I do for you?”
Well, that was a casual way to handle the thirty-something bodies bleeding into the ground in front of you. Mr. Brooks walked around Julian and kicked at one of the bodies, making an annoyed face before looking back up at King for an answer. I wasn’t positive why this man was so damn confident, considering the circumstances, but there was almost a wild, manic glint to his eyes that made me feel like he enjoyed this type of danger.
“Robert.” King shook his head. “You shouldn’t have gotten yourself involved in this. We aren’t here for you.”
“I think you are, though,” he mused.
“You get involved because of your kids? Do you even know where they are right now?” King growled, looking disgusted.
“Abby?” Mr. Brooks nodded towards the door. “Jacob! Why don’t you bring Abby out here, our guests want to see her.”
My gaze moved to the president of the Denim Moths, the fearful look in his eyes belying his otherwise stoic expression. He was scared of Mr. Brooks… But why? Also, where the hell was Dixon Glenn? Wasn’t he supposed to be here?
“We don’t care about Abby,” King bit out. “We are here for Glenn.”
Mr. Brooks ignored him, and my eyes widened as Abby was dragged out. Her clothes were dirty, and there were tears streaking down her face. I didn’t want to feel bad for her, but I did. I felt so bad for her because I could see the fear there, I could see the bruises on her arms and her face. I fought the urge to go to her, knowing it would possibly put everyone in more danger.