“Shut up!” Drake’s jaw ticks.
I hold up my hand, silently asking him to give me a second, but the giggles continue to roll from my lips. “He’s done . . . everything . . . for you.” More laughter.
Anger twists his features, his scar turning light against his fury-flushed skin. “I said shut the fuck up!”
“If you kill me . . . he’ll find out.” I wipe back tears as a sob rolls into a hiccup while the chaos of emotions tumbles through me. “He’ll never give up until you’re dead.”
As sick as it is, the laughter makes me feel better about dying. Maybe it’s the stress release or the confirmation of what I knew to be a possibility, but either way, I know Mason will dedicate his life to finding out what happened and make the fucker pay.
I lean back and slide deep into my chair, my T-shirt riding up high on my bare thighs, and smile. “You don’t deserve him.”
Even beneath the bill of his hat, I can see the war that wages behind his eyes.
“He actually loves you.” I tilt my head, stare, and glory in the way he squirms. “Probably the only person who really does.”
Drake pushes to standing so quickly my heart jumps. “Don’t have to listen to this shit.” He pulls something out of his pocket and steps behind me. “Let’s get this over with.”
Cloth presses against my mouth. I force my lips closed against the intrusion. He wraps a hand around my neck, squeezing tight. “Open. Now.”
“Fuck y—” Fabric presses between my teeth and pulls tight. I wince as Drake ties it around the back, ripping hairs from my head in the process.
Another strip of cloth grazes my forehead before the room is plunged into darkness.
“Pull the car around.” He releases my cuffed arm and presses between my shoulder blades. “Get the fuck up.”
I stand on wobbly legs as he pulls both hands behind my back. The click of the cuffs sends dread swirling in my belly.
Robbed of sight, speech, and mobility, I’m at the mercy of these psychos and marching to the beat of my death sentence.
Mason
“Shit!” My legs throb with restrained energy. The urge to race out of here, kick that fucking door down, and rage has me jumping out of my skin. “Fuck this. I’m going.”
Rex doesn’t say a word, but climbs from the truck with me, and we move toward the door. Adrenaline races through my veins, and I have to fight to stay upright as the flow makes me unsteady.
I don’t know what’s going on behind that door, but I swear to God if they touched a hair on Trix’s head I’ll kill them with my bare hands and paint the walls in their blood.
My vision clouds, fading to tunnel vision with my focus on that door. I’m vaguely aware of Rex at my back, grateful that he’s letting me take the lead on this. We close in when suddenly I’m grabbed from behind. Arms like pythons tighten around my body, and one big hand covers my mouth.
Oh, fuck no.
I leverage my weight, step to the side, ready to sweep the asshole’s leg.
“Baywatch.” Jonah’s voice hisses in my ear. “Calm the fuck down. We’re not the enemy.”
He releases me, and I spin to see Blake releasing Rex from a similar hold. They motion to a nearby dumpster and we jog there, staying low to the ground.
“You dickheads almost got shot.” Rex shoves Blake, who only grins.
“How’d you find us?”
Blake and Jonah share a look I can’t read before Blake lifts an eyebrow. “Wild guess.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Gia.”
Rex groans. “Swear to Christ that woman is gonna be the death of me.”
“Can’t believe you dick-lickers were gonna keep us out of this.” Blake bounces a scowl between us.
“Feels like déjà vu.” Jonah’s arms bulge against the black fabric of his long-sleeved shirt, like coiled snakes ready to destroy. His jaw clenches. “Gotta say I’m lookin’ forward to finally putting this cocksucker down.”
Blake, dressed similarly in all black, rolls his head around on his neck. “Fuckin’ love beatin’ up fat bikers, man. Like punching marshmallow.”
“Don’t want you guys getting involved in this.” I prop my hands on my hips, needing to give them something to do because knowing my woman is possibly only yards away is making me fucking schizo. “You’re married, got kids. Let us—”
Blake presses his finger to my mouth. “Shush, babycakes. Let the adults take this one.”
I practically spit off his finger, and his cocky grin makes me want to throat punch him, but there are more deserving people just inside this motel.
“Right, so what are we about to face?” Jonah’s expression takes on a feral glint. “Please tell me you guys have a better plan than just storming through the front—”
The creak of a rusty motel room door has us all ducking, moving like shadows in unison for a closer look.