Page 85 of Come Back To Me

His cheeks turn red. “Appears my fellow countrymen have found out about our business.”

I’m guessing they’re not friends, judging by the way I start to see steam blowing from his ears. He then snaps his fingers, the back of the lorry is swiftly opened, and the crates are counted for but not opened. A nod between one of the men on the lorry and Costa is made.

Collectively, we watch on as his men offload the crates onto the boat bound for Amsterdam. I wait until Costa comes over once we’re done. “You,” he says pointing at me.

I reluctantly stand, trying hard not to pass out due to my chest still very much bleeding.

I notice Vincent edge closer, wanting to hear what Costa’s got to say.

“You should get that checked.” Costa nods towards my chest. I don’t reply, I simply look at where a hole now sits just below the flash on my chest. When he laughs, I’m not really sure how I should be reacting. “That. That right there,” he says. “That’s what I need. Someone with some fucking stomach.”

Vincent then steps closer.

“Change of plan,” Costa tells us. Me and Vincent exchange a look. “Rippers MC will now take point for my cargo.”

My temper ignites like a furnace. Pure hatred and anger bubble just below the surface. “We don’t want any part of that!” I exclaim, my chest suddenly surging with a sharp stabbing sensation.

With no regards for what I’m saying, Costa turns and begins to walk away.

His man steps closer when I try to follow, the tip of his gun pushing into my front, making me grit my teeth.

“This isn’t what we voted,” I shout behind him.

The Rippers walk up to stand by my side.

Costa looks over his shoulder. “Better take it to your table then. Details of your next transport will be confirmed soon.” His car door closes and he drives off. Fucking, gone.

Without saying a word, his men leave following behind him. I turn slowly, looking for Billy who’s going to feel every ounce of my frustration. Seeing him stood by the bikes that are here, I take off. When I reach him, I spin him around, his eyes momentarily widening just before my heavy fists begin breaking the bones in his face.

Chapter Twenty

MADISON

This morning’s been intense in the most overwhelming of ways. Travis called in the early hours after being shot in the chest by Lauren’s uncle. A phone in his pocket saved his life, but seeing the blood when Jess patched him up had my nerves fried.

He wouldn’t let me call an ambulance.

Outlaws. A gunshot wound. I should have known he wouldn’t have it. And apparently, I should have known not to suggest it. I had to accept what happened and not question the fact that these men are supposed to be working together now, even though they’re shooting each other.

I wonder at what point I question the giant lorry they showed up in?

Still, my heart was galloping for another reason entirely. Lauren was in the other room asleep when the guys arrived at the clubhouse. Jess and I had arrived after Travis called, and although she was never in any danger, simply knowing Billy was close to Lauren was too close a call.

I know she feels safe here, but she’s going to stay with me now. Jess suggested it and she isn’t wrong. Lauren needs stability; to be doing normal things that kids do. Not overhearing outlaws talking about being shot. I’m not ashamed to admit I even offeredher ice cream and movies every night to convince her it’s for the best.

In the other room, she grabs her things whilst I wait by the bar for her. “Everything okay?” I ask Travis as he stomps towards where I’m sat.

Dennis the Road Captain comes over too, following behind. “No, sweetheart, everything is not okay.” I hear Travis sigh as Dennis talks. “It’s all gone to shit.” He moves to sit on a stool. “Prospect!” he booms for Legs to come to the bar.

Legs hurries towards him. “Sup?”

“Don’t fuckingsupme, boy. Pour me a fucking drink.”

Legs laughs rather stupidly. Even I can see that. “It’s not even nine.”

Dennis’ eyes travel the full length of Legs’ body. Travis and I remain silent, waiting for Legs to be torn into. “Everyone drinks at this hour,” Dennis says, more to himself than anything.

“I don’t drink,” Legs replies lifting his shoulders.

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