The sounds of classic rock fill the air. I scoot over as far as I can and wish to hell I were a lot braver than I am. Because I could open the car door and throw myself out, but since we’re on the highway, I decide against it.
Instead, I try to make myself as small as humanly possible and try to figure out not only what this guy wants me for but also a way out of this mess. The man beside me doesn’t say anything else, and what feels like minutes later, he’s pulling down a long dirt driveway that is lined by huge trees and woods on either side.
Oh god.
He’s going to kill us out here and bury us in a shallow grave in the woods.
Would that be karma for the way I killed my own father? My moment of freedom is about to come to an abrupt end. My visions of happiness with Merrick are over. My whole torso jerks as tears prick my eyes.
This is it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
MERRICK
I could shoutand fight with these bikers in the back of the van, but what would be the point? They know who I am, and they’ve taken me anyway. Jerking my chin in the air, I suck in a breath and hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly.
There is a man watching me, sitting across from me in the van. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes searching mine, and then he speaks after a few moments of silence.
“You’re the big bad Merrick Steele,” he says.
My lips twitch into a smirk. “Funny you know me, but I got no fucking clue who the hell you are,” I say.
He grins, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter who the hell I am. You’re about to meet Prez, and he’s the only one who actually matters.”
A few moments later, the van turns a corner, and I go sliding to the side. A few minutes after that, the van comes to a stop. I open my mouth to start demanding some fucking answers when the door flies open. There is another biker in front of me. His eyes find mine, and he smirks.
“Welcome to the Night Devils MC,” he announces. “You can call me Prez. Come inside. We need to have a chat.”
I want to tell him to fuck right off. But out of a sense of self-preservation, I don’t. Instead, I clear my throat and stare at him, expressionless. Because honestly, I have not the first fucking clue as to why I’m here.
Prez turns around and walks into the metal building in front of us. This whole area is nothing but woods, and then there is this clearing with a metal building in the middle.
My car pulls up, and I turn my head to the side, watching as a man unfolds from the passenger seat. He’s tall, about my height, with a beard and messy hair. His eyes meet mine, and I watch as his lips twitch into a smirk before he jerks his chin in my direction.
Nobody speaks. I’m seconds away from marching over to them and figuring out what the fuck is going on, but I don’t get the opportunity. Colette unfolds from the car, her eyes finding mine across the roof.
Another man in a Night Devils vest takes her by the arm and tugs her toward the building. I follow behind her, ready to end any of them if they try to hurt her. Colette’s gaze finds mine from over her shoulder. I jerk my chin in the air, and my eyes find and hold hers.
She gives me a small smile but doesn’t say anything. I watch as she turns back around, then makes her way into the building. I can hear the men around me talking behind me and inside of the brick building, but the moment I step inside, there is complete silence.
“Usually, I would have this meeting in a different room, but since there is a woman present, I figured this would be a good place,” Prez announces.
He’s sitting at the far pub table with just one chair in front of him. I watch as he lifts his hand as if to motion for me to sit across from him. I don’t move. Colette is too far ahead of me to reach out and touch her.
“Bring a chair over for the woman, prospect,” he calls out to one of his men.
Someone rushes over and sets a chair down next to the other empty one. “Please, sit,” he calls out again.
Colette moves toward the empty chair, and I do the same, keeping an eye on her back, although I’m pretty sure that, at this moment, I would be a goddamn shitty protector. I swore to always keep her safe, to never allow anything to ever happen to her again, and here we are, less than a fucking week later—in danger.
She sits on the barstool, and I take the one next to her, lifting my hands onto the table and pressing my palms to the cool surface. I wait for the man across from me to explain why we have been kidnapped and why the hell we’re sitting here across from him.
When he doesn’t speak, I shake my head once before I begin. “Want to explain what all this is about?” I ask.
His lips twitch into a smirk before he schools his features. “In detail? No. But loosely, sure. You are on a kill list. Several men have attempted to take your lives already for the chance to get their hands on some cash. But there is no cash, is there?” he asks.
“The man who put us on that list is dead,” I say, my voice flat and with zero emotion.