Page 60 of Queen of Blades

“She didn’t answer the door,” Sam said.

Leaving her alone was the worst idea, but it was the only option he had. The house was the safest place for her. How had anyone found out about the place?

“Shit, someone shot through the back door. You better get here. This place is a mess.”

“Check the storm shelter,” Paul suggested. “I told her to wait there.”

Hopefully, she’d listened to him.

Paul hung up. “We’re going to the house,” he announced and wrenched his door open without waiting for an answer.

No one would stop him from making sure Harper was okay. If she wasn’t at the house, there would be hell to pay. He’d burn the world to find her. If someone had taken Harper—who he’d, technically, already kidnapped—heads would roll.

Paul’s hit list got longer every day.

33

Harper

TheziptiesaroundHarper’s wrists and ankles were too tight, but it was nothing compared to the pain of her throbbing head. Her vision was blurred, making it hard for her to concentrate on where they went. Tilting her head upward, closing her eyes, she did her best not to vomit all over the back seat of the sedan as her captors drove far too fast and erratically.

It’d been years since she’d been around the Roughneck Riders, but she recognized a biker a mile away. Besides, the skull wearing a helmet with two wrenches crossed behind it and an oil rig tattooed on Baldy’s neck was a dead giveaway. He was a Roughneck Rider, or at least was a member of good standing at one point.

Kidnapping the president—she winced at the thought—the former president’s kid was definitely a no-no. Not to mention beating the ever-loving hell out of her. That was definitely frowned upon. Her connections were supposed to garner her protection, if not out of respect for her dad, then her brothers. Her dad may be dead, but her brothers were still in good standing with the club.

Weren’t they?

Oh fuck.

What if…?

Her heart clenched as the most horrific of thoughts crossed her mind. What if she wasn’t the only one with a bounty on her head? She never asked Paul about her siblings.

What the hell was going on with her father’s club? His body was barely cold, and they had already devolved into utter chaos. Who the hell had taken over? She thought Diesel was positioned to do so, but he was facing jail time. While he hadn’t been sentenced yet, there was no doubt he’d spend time behind bars.

Maybe they didn’t want him to lead them because of the upcoming prison time. Oh, hell. Who had stepped up in his place? It sure as shit wasn’t either of these two chucklefucks. They were just being obedient soldiers.

Weston, her brother, would never have ordered this if he was still breathing. It couldn’t be him. Besides, he was too young and hadn’t had a patch long enough to take that seat. So, who the fuck was in charge?

Also, how the hell had they found her? Paul assured her, promised her, that the safe house was a secret. No one knew about it. Or so he thought. Obviously, someone did, and he wasn’t aware of it.

How much more could go wrong?

Flinching, Harper groaned as the car turned and went over some sort of bump. It jostled her about in the back seat, aggravating whatever injuries she had sustained. With a sudden jolt, flinging her forward slightly, they stopped.

Fluttering her eyes open, she squinted. It was far too bright. Scanning the area, she tried to figure out where they’d taken her. The dirt lot was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

When the rear passenger door opened, she spotted a line of motorcycles before Henley blocked her sight line. “Time to bring you home.”

Home?

Curling his fingers around her upper arm, he yanked her out of the car. Struggling to keep her feet under her was futile. Once he had her out, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted her up high, throwing her over his shoulder.

She grunted as he placed pressure on her gut. “This isn’t a good idea,” she said.

The sting of his hand popping her across the ass caused her legs to kick out and a yelp to escape her lips.

“Quiet,” he barked.

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