“Drop your weapons—” Ryder gaped, stunned. What was going on?
The woman pointed the gun at him.She stood side-by-side with Mayhem, armed, as Delta to moved into defense.
Javier cursed, Ryder never saw it coming, and Grayson grunted as he dove for better cover. They had fallen for bullshit tricks.
Gunfire rained toward the bar where Grayson lay.
The old man fired shot after shot after shot, and Javier and Ryder fired back as the other two let loose their rounds. The woman fired at Javier, and Ryder aimed at the younger man, both picking their shots.
The scent of gunfire and sparks of bullets ricocheting and blasting through barriers added to the chaos.
“We don’t want a fight,” Ryder shouted. “I want my girl.”
A momentary cease-fire dangled between the six of them, and the older man grumbled about not trusting Russians.
“Do I look like a goddamn Russian?” Javier said, letting loose a string of Brazilian Portuguese.
Goddammit.Where was Victoria?
The tense silence remained, and Ryder inched out for a better look—but it was Javier he glanced at and couldn’t look away from. The out-of-place confusion marring his face settled Ryder.
Javier stepped from cover. “Keep your weapons down.”
What the fuck was he doing? Javier kept going, moving too far from the safety of his protective position. His automatic weapon hung by his side, barrel pointed boots-down. His shooting hand didn’t hover near his sidearm.
Ryder’s pulse raced as Javier walked slowly toward the center of the shot-up room. Grayson’s eyes met his. Neither knew what to do or what was happening. They both needed to pull Javier back. Mayhem thought they were Russians. He wasn’t even moving to the old man in charge but toward the woman. This wasn’t helping get Victoria back.
Ten feet separated them then five.
“Stay back,” she ordered, pulling her gun up, cocking the hammer. “Back!”
“Adelia?” Javier whispered.
Ryder’s blood ran cold. He was certain he had misheard, or maybe he was hallucinating because nothing made sense.
“Who the fuck are you?” Her voice trembled as much as the gun in her hand.
Everyone studied them. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Same chin. Javier was muscled and covered in tactical gear. She was clad in motorcycle jeans, cotton, and leather. But the resemblance was awesome, if there was ever a chance to use that word.
Javier reached forward, pushing her gun, and buried her into his Kevlar-covered chest for a hug. Her gun clattered to the concrete floor, and then the muffled, feminine sob shook Ryder’s world.
No one spoke except Javier.
“You’re alive.” His native tongue flowed, and she sobbed as he held her, not letting go. “I should never have stopped believing that you were alive.”
Eternity passed as they stood in near reverence at the reunion.
“Victoria’s in the back room,” the older man quietly said, pointing down the hallway. “I’d announce myself before I barged in. There’s no telling with the woman she’s with.”
Ryder tore himself away from Javier and was on the move, leaving Grayson to figure out whatever was going on with Javier as Brock’s conversations started fast in his ear. Ryder tuned everyone out as he carefully swept his gaze back and forth, not trusting Mayhem to be without other members ready to jump from the rafters, guns blazing.
He came to the row of bedrooms and banged on the first couple doors. “Victoria! Victoria, where are you?”
He was so far past the point of sly, surprise arrivals. If there was a problem coming from his backside, he was entrusting that Delta would keep him safe, and God help anyone between him and his woman.
The door at the end of the hall opened, and there she was. One of those life-flashing-before-his-eyes moments happened.
He always thought those happened right before he died. But apparently it happened right before he lived.