Page 61 of Her Possessive Bikers

"Can't let this happen," I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across Kyler's face, making him look younger, more vulnerable. Like that scrawny teenager Brick brought in years ago. My stomach churns remembering how Brick's death nearly broke him. Adding Tres to that weight might shatter him completely.

I run my tongue over my dry lips, mind racing. The club needs its president. Kyler needs his mentor. And Indy... Christ, Indy needs all of us. The thought of her locked away somewhere while we stand here playing Lupe's sick game makes my blood boil.

"We're running out of time, boys," Lupe's voice cuts through my thoughts, dripping with satisfaction. "Tick tock."

Behind me, I hear Kyler's breathing getting more ragged with each passing second. The kid's about to snap, and when he does, this powder keg's gonna blow. We need another play, and fast.

Tres is now face to face with Lupe. All it would take is Lupe to draw a knife, or one of his fucking cronies to snipe Tres.

Tres sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Not a chance in fucking hell." Tres's voice drops to that deadly quiet tone. "But I'll die trying to save her."

The words barely leave his mouth before all hell breaks loose. Gunfire erupts from above, bullets pinging off metal. I dive behind a stack of crates, returning fire at the shadows in the catwalks.

"Cover me!" Tres charges straight at Lupe, tackling him as more of Lupe's men pour in.

Blood sprays across my face as I take down one of Lupe's guys. Pain rips through my shoulder - a lucky shot. I grit my teeth and keep firing.

Kyler's to my left, blood streaming from a gash in his forehead, but he's holding his own. Our brothers have engaged the rest of Lupe's crew, turning the warehouse into a war zone.

By the looks of things, we've got the upper hand. Bodies with green and black kuttes lay scattered on the warehouse floor. Dos Bandito's underestimated who the fuck they were dealing with. Brick or no Brick. We still got it.

But victory is short lived when I hear Tres cry out. I turn towards the sound of his short and he's on his knees, crimson blooming across his chest, but he's got Lupe in a death grip. They struggle, and I watch as Tres drives his knife up under Lupe's ribs. The rival president's eyes go wide, then vacant.

When the echo of the last gunshot fades, we're the only ones left standing. Tres slumps against a pillar, breathing hard.

"Go," he wheezes, pressing a hand to his wounds. "Find her. Get her out."

"No, we're not leaving you…you need-" Kyler starts.

"Now!" Tres barks. "I'll be fine. Just find our girl."

I nod to our brothers as they rush to Tres's side.

"Kyler, with me," I say, checking my clip. Half full. It'll have to do. "We clear the building room by room."

Blood trickles down my arm, but adrenaline keeps the pain at bay. We move deeper into the warehouse, weapons ready. Our boots crunch on broken glass and shell casings.

"Got signs of struggle here," Kyler points to scuff marks on the floor, leading toward a metal staircase.

"Basement," I whisper. Makes sense - these assholes love their underground lairs.

The stairs groan under our weight. My heart pounds as we reach the bottom, scanning the darkness with our flashlights. A row of doors lines the corridor.

"Jesus," Kyler mutters as we pass the first few rooms. They're set up like cells, complete with chains.

A muffled sound from the end of the hall. We exchange looks and pick up the pace.

"Indy?" I call out softly. "Baby, you in there?"

"Jacoby?" Her voice is weak but alive. Thank fuck.

We shoot the lock off the door, and throw it open.

My heart clenches at the sight of Indy laid out in the floor, chained to that metal chair. Her lip's split, eye swollen, she's bloodied up, but that fire still burns in her gaze. Kyler works on the locks binding her while I keep watch. I don't miss the haziness in his eyes as he's holding his shit together for her, hell seeing her like this makes me want to fucking weep.

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