Page 26 of His Loyal Rebel

A low rumble vibrated within the cabin. She blinked, looking around the loft, then finally sat up the louder the noise grew.

There was a biker coming. She scrambled off the bed. Holding on to the ladder, the adrenaline rush left her shaking. Could Big have found them?

Her chest tightened. "Whip?"

Her foot slipped, and she jumped the rest of the way, landing on her feet. She needed to warn him. Hurrying out the open door, she found Whip standing in the clearing in front of the cabin, looking toward the trail.

She rushed to his side. "Is it—?"

"It's Priest." He glanced at her. "My president. He's bringing my bike to me."

She rocked back, relief swarming her. "Does that mean we can leave?"

He ignored her as three bikers rolled around the corner slowly and came to a stop in front of them. As soon as they turned off the motorcycles, Whip said, "Everything clear?"

"It took over sixty of our riders to push the police back, allowing us to get here without anyone trailing us." The lead biker got off the Harley. "Pressure is high, brother."

The man looked at Twyla. His gaze narrowed, making her feel like an intruder. She wasn't mixed up with Big like they accused her of being. Big was in her past. She wanted nothing to do with him as much as they wanted him gone.

"Where does Big live?" asked the man.

She opened her mouth to answer, and Whip said, "Don't involve her, Prez."

So, that was Priest. The man Whip spoke of with respect.

She understood the workings of a motorcycle club. Everyone listened to the president. Then, there were officers. The rest of the members fell in line.

In Cusclan MC, Big was one of those at everyone's beck and call.

The man kept looking at her. "You tried to kill him. If she can aim a gun at him, she can open her mouth and tell me his address."

She pressed her lips together. If she had wanted Big dead, she would've shot him in his cold, angry heart and not at the ground by his feet.

"Where does he live?' repeated Priest.

"Jesus Christ." Whip walked away, shaking his head.

She chewed on her lip. The conversation upset Whip.

Who was he protecting? Weren't they staying at the cabin because Big was trying to get Whip arrested, and he was afraid Big would come after her if he wasn't around?

"Twyla," said Priest.

She startled, snapping her gaze to the president of Tarkio. "He, um, lives in Stevensville."

"Address?"

"Slocum Creek Rd." She swallowed. "Twelve. The house number, I mean."

Whip rounded on Priest, ignoring Twyla. "How many people witnessed her taking a couple potshots at him? Carl from the parts store was standing right by Rick and me that night. There could've been ten other people on that block who stuck their heads out of the buildings lining the road. If Big ends up dead in his own fucking house, the first person they're going to question is her."

Twyla shivered. "Wait a minute. You're going to kill him?"

None of the men answered her. She looked to Whip. There had to be some other way to deal with Big. If Whip worried about her, she would need to convince him that she could take care of herself.

She stepped toward him and grabbed his arm. "Can I talk to you? Privately?"

He stepped away from the group of bikers. She stuck close to him, not wanting the others to hear.

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