Page 89 of My Secret to Protect

I don’t add anything more. I don’t have the time as I pull up the tracking app to see where Bree is, and those fancy earrings I bought her let me know two things: she’s still got a pulse, and she’s still moving.

Pressing the navigate button on the app, I start toward my truck, considering the ground I need to make up, and I know it isn’t fast enough. I need my fucking bike.

With one look toward the shop and the huge window to the customer waiting room, I fire off one more text to Calista, knowing she's about to get alerting to the alarms going off at the shop.

Me: Sorry, C!

Then I pick up the potted tree Cali put outside to soften the place up, and throw it through the glass, shattering it immediately.

I pounce through the window and rush to the Harley, finding the keys on the wall and rolling it forward off the ramp and to the shutters, pressing the button to open them. I connect my phone to the mount on the handlebars and ignore the message I see come in from Cali, and the minute I have enough of a gap, I start the bike and go. I have to get to Bree.

Following the GPS navigation, I find myself on a dirt road that’s pitch black, and I don’t like it. The tracker has stopped moving, and I know I’m closing in on her, but I’m suddenly aware of the noise from the Harley. It’s fucking loud and out here, there’s nothing drowning out the sound.

I pull over, climb off the bike and grab my phone, turning on the flashlight app as I head in the direction of the red dot on my screen.

When I get closer, I start to hear voices and see lights, so I turn off my flashlight. I can’t see a fucking thing and have no idea what I’m walking into, but I need to get to her.

I feel my way through the thick brush that surrounds what looks like an old cottage and the lights on the outside of the building allow me to see what I’m dealing with.

Four men, no, make that six as two more approach, all in Bone Roses MC leather jackets or cuts, patrol the outside of the cottage, all of them visibly armed, none of them familiar to me until number seven walks up and my blood boils under my skin.

Horse. Vice President of the club stands with his hand on his weapon, giving orders to the other men, and I want to rain hellfire on them, on him, because the red flashing dot that is the woman I love is in that cottage. My hand comes to my weapon before I steady my thoughts. Going in there now is a suicide mission, and I’m no good to Bree if I’m dead. I need to be smart, and I need to understand what the fuck is going on.

The club protects the Campbells,always, so this makes no sense.

I try to assess the danger that Bree is in and remember that Nolan thinks he loves her, and he’s convinced they’re supposed to be together. She’s too smart to piss him off, so I have to trust, hope, that he won’t hurt her. Trusting the man who just kidnapped my girl seems fucking stupid, but if I go in there alone, there's no chance I come out with Bree, I probably won't come out still breathing and that doesn't help her. I need to call in some help and get some answers.

Pulling into the compound shouldn’t feel this familiar after all these years. The last time I was here, I’d just gotten out of prison. I was twenty-eight, pretty much my entire twenties had been spent behind bars, and this was the only home I had on the outside.

I’d been welcomed back, handed drinks and women, and given a place to clean up and rest before I had to make a choice.

I made the decision to leave for good, and it was clear that returning to this place wasn’t an option for me after that, but I have no other option today.

Hopping off my bike, I storm toward the gate.

‘Open up,’ I call out to be met with hard stares and hands reaching behind backs for weapons I know are concealed there. I reach for my own in case this goes south.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ The guy on the gate grins, amused at my balls as I get close.

‘Open the fucking gate.’ I don’t have time for this shit. ‘I need to see Viking.’

‘Yeah, and I need to see Megan fucking Fox, but that ain’t happening either. Get back on your bike while I’m still letting you walk away.’

‘Open the fucking gate,’ I snarl, and the Glock that was in the back of his jeans is now pointing straight at my face. I stare it and him down.

‘Dean, open the gate.’ The strong, serious voice I haven’t heard in so long has my attention lifting from the kid with the attitude to the man behind him. ‘And get your gun out of my son’s face.’

I watch as confusion and fear descend over the young guy’s features as he looks from his president to me and opens the gate. I glare as I pass and approach the man giving the orders.

‘We had a deal, Arlo.’ His tattooed arms cross over his broad chest and eyes as blue as mine take me in.

‘I know,’ I nod, ‘but we need to talk. Now.’

‘You’ve been gone a long time, kid, but in case you’ve forgotten, I’m still the one calling the shots around here.’

I step closer, noticing the uncomfortable shuffling of the guys and women around us as they wonder what’s about to go down and if they need to act. Lowering my voice so only he can hear me, I ask the question that’s eating me up.

‘If that’s the case, old man, you want to tell me why your VP just helped kidnap Miles Campbell’s daughter?’

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