Page 49 of Savage Protector

Chapter Twenty-two

Houston

Houston boosted himself over the privacy fence surrounding the property where the club believed Izzy was being held. Both JD and Axel assured him the intel they received was solid and despite the words exchanged earlier, he trusted them in this. These men were now his team whether he happened to like it or not.

Staying in the shadows, he crept to the rear window identified as one of the holding rooms and most likely spot for a woman as important as Izzy. He pressed his back against the siding behind one of the shrubs, disappearing into the shadows.

JD didn’t get into details on where the information came from, but he’d been involved in enough of these kinds of operations to know when specific information came from someone inside.

Reaching his destination, he dropped down underneath the windowsill and waited for the signal from the others. The plan was they would storm the house together and take out as many threats as possible before leaving the property with Izzy.

Further, the information they’d received indicated they had to move tonight as the other women had already been relocated elsewhere and Isabella was expected to be taken soon as well.

He hoped this meant that the assholes who took her would be on site tonight. He was itching to make sure those mother fuckers couldn’t touch her again.

He would have preferred more stealth with a smaller team, but JD didn’t want anyone getting a chance to follow them or identify them later. They had an undercover operation to protect. With the cuts and colors left behind, they only had to worry about anyone being captured.

A sliver of rage slipped into his mind. He tried to lock it back out, but it was persistent. Izzy was locked somewhere inside this house with a madman. One of her father’s known associates appeared to be in charge of this operation, the man she’d ran from on her wedding day.

He pictured the image he’d studied for weeks. The barely constrained hatred visible in the man’s eyes. It was easy enough to dress someone up in a twenty-thousand dollar suit, but it never quite hid the evil lurking inside.

Houston reached out for the edge of the window and tested it to see if it opened. It did not. Shit was never that easy. He dug into his front pocket and fished out his tools and a small flashlight. Working quickly, he attacked the surprisingly flimsy lock keeping him out. In under thirty seconds he slid the window open and swept aside the heavy drapes enough to see into the room.

Shit.

Bathroom. Not the bedroom they were hoping for. The layout of the house they had was off. What other information had they gotten wrong?

His instinct to pull back warred with his need to save his woman. JD indicated tonight might be their last chance to get to her before she was taken out of the country.

Fuck it.

He was inside the house and it was just as dangerous to signal the team now as it would be to press on. He’d have to navigate the situation on his own until his motorcycle brethren caught up with him.

He took a breath and climbed through the window. All things considered, his pulse remained calm and his hands were steady as ever on the gun he carried. After taking a few seconds to absorb the sights and sounds around him he moved to the open doorway and lifted his muzzle, complete with silencer.

Not one to waste any more time than he had to, Houston made sure the hallway was clear and quickly moved to the next doorway. He tested the handle and found this one locked. His heart beat a little faster. With this room in the middle of the house it had to be the one that contained Izzy. It would be most secure.

There were still no signs of movement and he knew from hundreds of similar operations he needed to wait for the rest of the team, but he couldn’t. Instinct told him it was go time.

Placing his flashlight in his mouth, he used his tools to pop the lock with as little noise as possible. That’s when he heard it. A whimper so filled with anguish it might have been in his head.

Izzy.

His plan for finesse fled. White-hot rage coursed through his veins. He dropped the tools and raised his gun before kicking the door free.

"What the fuck?"

Houston didn't think his rage could get any worse. He was wrong. The site of the man scrambling off the bed trying to raise his pants from around his thighs and Isabella spread out on the bed with her skirt half way up her hips definitely made it worse.

As bad as he wanted to put a bullet in this guy's brain, he had to make him pay first.

He lowered his gun and jabbed him with a left hook, sending him sprawling to the floor. For a second he lay dazed before he once again began pulling at his pants with one hand while reaching for the gun in his shoulder holster with the other.

He gave him no chance to do either before he planted his boot in his chest with enough force he heard bones crack. The guy sputtered and grabbed at Houston's foot to no avail.

Houston transferred his gun to his left hand and pressed it to the asshole’s temple. “Move another inch and I'll put a bullet in your brain.”

The guy's face contorted with rage, but he lifted his hands away from his gun and his limp fucking dick.

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