Page 4 of Hellraiser

I nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose before remembering my proof was gone. “People need to know what’s going on, which is even more reason for me to get this story out. But that maniac back there destroyed my recorder.”

“What you need to do is be careful. The Outlaws won’t take kindly to being exposed, but I think you already know that.”

I turned to him, my voice trembling slightly as I tried to steady my nerves. “Um, you think you could take me back to my car? I can wait for AAA there.”

He shook his head, his expression serious. “No. It’s not safe.”

My heart pitter-pattered against my ribcage. “What? Why not?”

He looked into my eyes. “The Outlaws will be looking for you and me. Too many bodies dropped tonight. They won’t let what went down slide.”

My eyes popped wide as saucers. Fear coursed through me as the gravity of the situation started to bake itself into my brain.Fuck.That nightmare of a man had taken my badge, whichmeant he had my full name and credentials and knew where I worked.

“Oh my God… That man took my press badge. He’ll know who I am.”

“And he won’t hesitate to send his men after you.”

His chilling warning set off every alarm inside my body. “What do you mean? But what am I supposed to do? M-my car is broken down. I don’t have a charger. I don’t have a?—”

Dre drew in a deep breath, his mind made up. “I can help you, but you need to trust me. For now, you’ll have to come home with me. It’s the only way I’ll be sure you’re safe until we figure this shit out. Now, put your helmet back on.”

I worriedly looked into his gray eyes and saw a blend of uncertainty and determination staring back at me. Despite the fear churning inside my gut, I felt safe with him. Dre revved the engine before I could object and took off again seconds later. The wind whipped past my face as we sped through the night. I held onto his waist for dear life as my mind raced with thoughts.

How the hell did I end up in this situation, and what will happen to me now? What happened to that girl?

As we rode, I tried to lull my anxiety by focusing on the warmth of Dre’s rock-hard body, the steady hum of the motorcycle, and reminding myself that he’d saved me once. I had to believe he’d continue to keep his promise.

I pulled up to the Savages’clubhouse. The familiar sight of the weathered brick building brought a sense of relief to me, causing me to exhale a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. I killed the engine and helped Mercy off my bike, guiding her inside with my hand around her dainty wrist.

As always, the clubhouse was bustling with the regular activity—drinking, smoking, and shit-talking over games at the pool table now that the threat had been neutralized. At least for now. All eyes turned to me as we entered. My father stood overhead, waiting for me with a concerned expression.

“Come with me,” I muttered to her.

I led Mercy to my spacious bedroom at the back of the clubhouse. I gestured for her to sit on the bed. It was a sturdyqueen-size sleigh bed with a dark wooden frame. The bedding was simple, including a slate gray comforter and matching sheets. At least I kept it made. I set my Glock on top of the small nightstand next to it.

“Stay here. Don’t leave this room.”

Mercy jerked her head forward in a nod, her brown gaze wide with uncertainty. I had to admit she had a beautiful oval-shaped face and naturally glowing caramel skin with a yellow undertone. Long, thick eyelashes sat over her cocoa-brown, almond-shaped eyes. Her thick, perfectly arched eyebrows and button nose framed her face perfectly, and her full lips had an inviting heart shape.

I dipped my chin before closing the door behind me and heading to my father’s office. The cold tension enveloped me as soon as I stepped inside. He was seated behind his large, dark mahogany desk in a worn, high-backed leather chair. There was a large, detailed map of the city in front of him, with strategic locations and territories we controlled.

The walls that enveloped us were lined with memorabilia of our club’s legacy—framed photos of our members, black and white images of some of my father’s favorite vintage motorcycles, and various plaques and awards.

“What thefuckwere you thinking, Hellraiser?” he growled.

I took a deep breath, knowing I had to come correct.

“I was thinking about living up to my name, Prez. I couldn’t deal with the guilt if she’d gotten hurt. We both know what the Outlaws do to women, especially ones as beautiful as her. She’s a journalist, and she wants to write an article and expose them for sex trafficking women. This might be a blessing in disguise.”

My father’s brown eyes narrowed, a blend of frustration and understanding. “She’s your responsibility now. All you did was make her fate worse, especially if she writes that fucking article.”

I grunted while looking around at the heavy wooden bookshelves lined against the opposite side of the room. He wasn’t wrong. I knew the risks of exposing the Outlaws but also understood the importance of bringing their heinous crimes to light. I hated those bitch-made mothafuckas with everything in me and wanted nothing more but to see them fall, but there was no telling what kind of hell Mercy’s article would unleash.

A wave of anger rolled through me, causing me to storm out of the office. I stomped back to my room and pushed open the door. It thudded against the wall with a loud bang, startling Mercy. She’d transferred from the bed to my desk, scribbling furiously in one of my notebooks. She jumped before looking over her shoulder as I entered. Her eyes danced with determination.

“I’ve been writing downeverythingI saw at the Outlaws’ Den,” she urged. “Would you be comfortable going on record or at least letting me interview you about what you’ve seen regarding how the Outlaws treat women and the trafficking?”

I took a deep breath, quickly affirming my decision. “Look, I get it. You need a story, and you want to expose the Outlaws. But I can’t help you that way. I’m not a snitch.”

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