Page 15 of Brick's Retribution

Ahead lies nothing but uncertainty—a motorcycle club I've never visited, a war brewing within my father's organization, enemies closing in from all sides.

And my only lifeline is a man called Brick, whose very presence makes my heart beat faster for reasons that have nothing to do with fear.

God help me.

CHAPTER TWO

Brick

The desert air whips against my face as I push the Harley to its limits, taking turns I normally wouldn't risk with a passenger.

The woman behind me seems to read my movements instinctively, leaning into each curve, tightening her grip when necessary.

For someone who claimed to have "some" experience on bikes, she's handling this like a pro.

Diego's betrayal changes everything.

The planned route, the safe houses, the check-in protocols—all compromised.

My mind races through alternatives as I navigate the outskirts of El Paso, deliberately choosing roads that will make pursuit difficult, adding random turns to shake any tails.

The burner phone in my pocket vibrates.

I ignore it.

It could be Amara responding to my alert, but it could also be Diego trying to track our movements.

I can’t afford to trust anyone until we're somewhere safe.

Imani's arms remain locked around my waist, her body pressed against mine—no longer awkward, but anchored in place because our survival is dependent on working together.

The feel of her against me is a distraction I can't afford, but I'm human enough to notice.

She's all soft curves against my back, the faint scent of expensive perfume cutting through the desert dust.

Focus, damn it. This isn't about how smoking hot she is. This is about keeping her alive.

I take us deeper into the desert, following trails only locals would know.

My search for Lashes taught me every back road and hidden path in this godforsaken stretch of border country.

Now that knowledge might very well save our lives.

After an hour of evasive maneuvers, I spot what I'm looking for—a narrow canyon entrance partially hidden by rock formations.

Perfect for losing vehicles, but navigable on a bike if you know what you're doing.

I cut the engine to listen for any others who might be around us before heading in.

Nothing but desert wind, for now.

I kickstart the Harley back to life and head for the canyon, feeling Imani's questioning grip tighten slightly.

She doesn't ask, though.

Doesn't second-guess.

Just trusts me to know what I'm doing.

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