Breaking It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs) (6 page)

Except that’s a lie. I
do
know.

I’d go after my brothers. I’d go after my mother. I’d make sure they could never touch her. I’d break every single hold they have over me. I’d break them hard, I’d break them bloody.

And lose Anna anyway. To prison…or because she couldn’t accept a man who killed his entire family in cold blood. Even if I did it for her.

So this pain—of not having her, of knowing I never will—is better than the hell of losing her completely.

At least she’s safe.

I wrap a towel around my waist and leave the shower. Without stopping to look at it again, I erase her photo from my messages, then dump the cache of recently deleted pictures. I check the cloud storage. Gone.

Anna isn’t here.

And I’ve just got to keep living with that. Somehow.

Gunner

The alarm wakes me at what-the-fuck o’clock. Prying my eyes open, I roll over and message Stone.

Drag your ass out of bed. I’m checking out in thirty. Breakfast is on you.

Knowing Stone, that means the McDonald’s drive-thru, but I don’t care as long as there’s coffee to wash it down. We need to be on the road in an hour to catch our flight out of Phoenix.

The phone chimes while I’m in the bathroom, lathering up my jaw with shaving cream. I finish up, haul on my jeans, and take a look. Not Stone’s reply, as I expected.

It’s from the prez and his message is as long-winded as usual.

Call me.

I do.

Saxon answers on the first ring. He doesn’t waste time with greetings. “You heading back now?”

“About to.” As soon as I drag Stone out of whatever hole he ended up in.

“When you get into town, head to the clubhouse instead of the Den. Red’s taking his final ride this morning.”

The air shoots out of my lungs and I sit down hard on the edge of the mattress. His final ride. I knew it was coming. I didn’t think it would be this soon.

I scrape a hand over my face. “Jesus.”

There’s silence on the other end. I can’t imagine how the prez feels, making a call like this.

No. I can imagine. He doesn’t give a shit about this call or how I take the news. I’d bet anything he’s only thinking of Jenny Erickson, and of how losing her dad is going to rip her apart. Just like I’m thinking of how it’ll gut Anna.

My own gut feels like a lump of lead. “Tell Red it was a goddamn honor to ride with him.”

“I’ll do that,” Saxon says. “Is Stone with you? I’ve been calling him for a fucking half hour.”

Shit. “He hooked up with some girl. I’ll find him, shake him awake.”

“Do that. Have him call Red direct.”

“I will.” Because the Wall family and the Ericksons are tight. Red’s the one who put Stone on his first motorcycle—and Stone will never forgive himself if he misses this chance to say a few final words to the man.

I disconnect and put the phone on speaker, dialing Stone again and again while I finish dressing and transfer the cash from the safe into my pack. His battery’s not dead. If it was, the calls would go straight to voicemail instead of ringing first. Maybe he’s got it on silent but he’s a light sleeper. Even the vibration usually wakes him. Unless it’s buried under a pile of clothes and someone’s ass.

God damn it. I didn’t want to have to track him down. Thank fuck there’s an app for that.

Logins and passcodes aren’t a problem. He’s got mine, I’ve got his. Most of the time, we use them to find out the other’s location when one of us is on a bike and can’t answer the phone. But it’s insurance, too. Not everyone the Riders run into is friendly. It’s best to know where to find him if he can’t tell us himself.

I’ve never had to use it to haul him out of bed, though.

His phone shows up right around the Ponderosa—the same bar we were at last night. When the girl said she had a room, she must have meant close. Probably in one of those apartments above the shops flanking the bar.

I head out, then don’t make any new friends in Cactus Gulch when I pound on those apartment doors while the sun’s still rising. Stone and the redhead aren’t in any of them.

The Ponderosa’s next. The joint is still closed but I recognize the manager inside—the woman who arranged our reservations for the private party. She’s behind the bar, prepping or tallying receipts, who knows. I tap on the glass door and she pokes her head out. Stone’s easy to remember, what with those scars on his face, but the manager tells me she hasn’t seen him this morning.

Which leaves me in the middle of fucking nowhere. Running around like a dickhole, chasing after him. That boy needs his ass handed to him for going incommunicado. And if I don’t find him in about five minutes, I’ll take great pleasure doing it.

I circle around behind the bar, scanning the houses across the back lot. Maybe one of those. Somewhere close enough his phone’s picking up the wireless from the Ponderosa. That might be what’s fucking up the locator, because according to this app, I should be right on top of him.

Fuck. I call again, hoping he’ll answer before I start waking any more townspeople this goddamn early on a Sunday morning.

A muffled ringtone sounds nearby. The muscles in the back of my neck tighten to steel.

Slowly I turn, and the steel becomes ice. That ringtone’s coming from a Dumpster.

I don’t remember crossing over to it. Instead I’m remembering that redhead and how she was so jumpy. Afraid of someone. And Stone can take care of himself, but there’s some shit you can’t protect yourself from. A bullet to the back, for one.

Overseas, at home—I’ve walked into some hairy situations. Not one second of combat was as harrowing as lifting the lid of that Dumpster.

No body. No blood.

Thank fucking God.

Breathing air stinking of piss and rot, I haul out the garbage bags sitting at the top of the pile inside—probably the trash they took out late last night or first thing this morning. Stone’s phone is sitting under one.

So is the key to the Escalade.

What the fuck? I grab them both, checking out the phone. A handful of missed calls from the prez. A dozen new texts. The earliest unread message is from me—the one I sent after deleting Anna’s photo, just before heading to bed.

If he didn’t read it, the phone was probably already in the Dumpster by then. Maybe even while I was still inside the Ponderosa. But I didn’t get wind of any fights going down out here last night. That kind of news travels through a bar fast.

No blood. No cracked screen. No scuff marks on the case. Stone would never go easy. If someone wanted to get these off him, there’d likely be some sign.

And no message to me, telling me what the hell Stone was thinking. Is he out there playing the hero? If so, maybe leaving the key fob was message enough. He’d have known I’d find his phone. Maybe he thought whoever was after the girl might find them that way, too, but by leaving access to the rig he wasn’t leaving me stranded.

I take off for the Escalade. Whatever was going on, he’d have grabbed a few weapons first. Maybe left a message there.

As soon as I reach the rental, I check the stash behind the front seats. My blood runs cold.

He didn’t take a weapon. There’s no scenario in this world where he wouldn’t have grabbed one of these guns before heading off with the girl.

Which means the scene I’d been playing out in my mind—he heads for the Escalade, arms himself, then tosses the phone and keys somewhere I’ll find them—just got blown to hell.

He never got as far as the Escalade last night. Maybe never got farther than the Ponderosa’s back lot.

Fucking hell. Heart pounding, I strap on a .45 before double-timing it back toward the bar. A block away, a message comes in over Stone’s phone.

Anna. I freeze in place, reading it.

Red called. He asked me to go out to the ranch to be with Jenny today. Does that mean what I think that means?

I close my eyes, teeth clenched. This is a line I shouldn’t cross. But Anna won’t know. And Stone will forgive me. He’d rather that I answer her than make her worry about why he’s not responding—and it isn’t hard to guess that she’s texting instead of calling because she’s crying. Something this important, she wouldn’t leave to a message. So she must be hurting enough without me adding fear for Stone to it.

And I’ll find him. She’s got nothing to worry about.

Yes.
I text back.
The boss called this morning. Red’s taking his final ride.

There’s a long pause before her response appears.

I knew it. God. I should be heading out there but I’m just sitting in the car bawling.

A groan rips from me, reading that. Wishing I could say what I wanted to.
You’re tearing me apart, sweetheart. Because I can’t hold you. Because I can’t make it better.

My chest aching, I make myself say what Stone would. That’s easy. I’ve seen them together hundreds of times. They tease and poke at each other viciously, but when shit gets rough, Stone’s softer with her than I’ve ever seen him. The affection between them runs deep but it’s not hidden.

You’ll be all right. Just hang in there, pipsqueak.
I use his favorite nickname for her.

I will,
she replies, and I can almost see her pulling it together, wiping her eyes, drawing a deep breath.
Are you and Gunner coming back today?

Just seeing her write my name twists me up. I wish I had something better to tell her than,
Don’t know yet. Something came up here. We might be delayed.

Hurry.

I’ll try.
With everything in me.

Let me know when you have an ETA. Stay safe and I love you.

God, those words. They hit me like a sledgehammer. And she says them so easy. Stone would say them right back.

My fingers hit the wrong letters a hundred times, but I finally get it out.
Love you, too.

The first time I ever said it. She doesn’t even know it’s coming from me.

And I could stay here longer, reading her last text over and over, but now it’s time to get moving. I pocket the phone and head toward the Ponderosa. They’ve got security cameras. One way or another, I’m going to find out what the fuck happened to Stone. Then I’m going to find him.

She’s not losing her brother. I’m sure as hell not losing my friend.

And I won’t stop until I bring him home.

Su
nday

Anna:
Any idea when you’re coming home?

Stone:
Not yet.

Anna:
Why?

Stone:
Club business.

Anna:
Yeah, yeah. You’re okay, though?

Stone:
Everything’s all right, pipsqueak. Just taking longer than it should.

Anna:
You got a second to call me?

Stone:
It’s a bad time to talk.

Anna:
Boo. Okay. Try to call mom tomorrow, at least.

Stone:
I’ll try.

Tuesday

Anna:
Are you still up?

Stone:
Yes.

Anna:
Did you knock up Tiffany?

Stone:
Tiffany?

Anna:
Yeah. TIFFANY.

Stone:
As far as I know…no.

Anna:
She came into the Wolf Den today, crying and saying you’re the daddy, and asking where are you? You never return her calls.

Stone:
She hasn’t called me.

Anna:
Maybe you’re just not answering. Considering that you don’t even answer your SISTER’S calls.

Stone:
Talking isn’t as easy as texting right now.

Anna:
Well, maybe you should text your baby mama.

Stone:
Tiffany who?

Anna:
OMG. You don’t even remember her? She said it was true love.

Stone:
I guess not.

Anna:
She said you had a magical night during Halloween. She was dressed as a pink unicorn with fairy wings.

Stone:
Gunner and I went on a run over to the coast on Halloween.

Anna:
So did you hook up with a fluffy pink unicorn beneath a full moon atop a sparkling sand dune? She said the waves crashed and sang a lullaby as you cried out your love.

Stone:
…are you just fucking with me?

Anna:
Maybe. You should really come home. You’ve got a magical unicorn baby waiting to suckle at your manly teat.

Stone:
If I wasn’t laughing so hard, I’d say you just permanently shriveled the testicles of every man in a ten-mile radius.

Anna:
And you’re seriously having an off day. I expected you to be ready with pictures of a unicorn baby snuggled against your chest. Just in case I ever said you were going to have one.

Stone:
I’ll be prepared next time. A unicorn baby with rainbow tail.

Anna:
And a glittery mane. BTW, I’m changing your name to Unicorn Daddy in my phone.

Unicorn Daddy:
It’s unfortunate any dirty jokes about horns would be too inappropriate to send you.

Anna:
Why?

Unicorn Daddy:
Because you’re my sister.

Anna:
That never stopped you before. So I guess things aren’t going so well, are they?

Unicorn Daddy:
Not as well as I’d like.

Anna:
Put Gunner in charge. He knows how to get shit done.

Unicorn Daddy:
Gunner’s a useless fucking asshole.

Anna:
Yikes. Trouble in biker paradise?

Unicorn Daddy:
Just frustrated. Not getting the info I need.

Anna:
Beat someone up.

Unicorn Daddy:
I tried that.

Anna:
Okay, well. Hang in there. The sun will come out tomorrow and all that crap. And speaking of the sun about to come up, I’m heading to bed.

Unicorn Daddy:
I wish I was, too.

Unicorn Daddy:
Heading to my bed, I mean. And sleeping. That won’t happen for a few hours, though.

Unicorn Daddy:
Goodnight, pipsqueak.

Anna:
Get some sleep, dork.

Thursday

Anna:
Red’s funeral is set for Saturday :-(

Unicorn Daddy:
I know. The boss told me yesterday.

Anna:
You’ll be coming back at least for the weekend, right?

Unicorn Daddy:
Maybe.

Anna:
Maybe? It’s Red.

Unicorn Daddy:
I know. But if I leave and something pops up while I’m gone, the whole thing might be fucked.

Anna:
Boo. Look at my disappointed face.

Anna:

Unicorn Daddy:
You look tired.

Anna:
Gee, thanks.

Unicorn Daddy:
Damn autocorrect. I really typed, “You look beautiful.”

Anna:
Who the hell are you? What are you doing with my brother’s phone?

Unicorn Daddy:
What did you use to write ANNA WAS HERE? Because it looks like elephant jizz.

Anna:
There you are. Phew. And it’s whipped cream.

Unicorn Daddy:
Does the boss know you’re squirting whipped cream all over his bar?

Anna:
It wouldn’t be the first time. But Saxon’s out at the ranch with Jenny.

Unicorn Daddy:
How is she?

Anna:
Feeling about as shitty as you’d expect.

Unicorn Daddy:
And you?

Anna:
You’re really asking how I am?

Unicorn Daddy:
Yes.

Anna:
Well, I’m also about as shitty as you’d expect. On the upside, though… No, there’s no upside. Unless you count the upside of Burnout’s ass, which is currently hanging out of his pants. I’m not sure who he’s banging but he’s got her bent over the pool table.

Unicorn Daddy:
Look away. Trust me. I’ve seen that nightmare before. Still have PTSD thanks to it.

Anna:
No kidding. His ass is so hairy you could French braid his butt crack.

Unicorn Daddy:
You could. But a ponytail would be more symmetrical when observed from the side.

Anna:
He’s got so much hair, I’m pretty sure the ponytail would be longer than what he’s got in front.

Unicorn Daddy:
Maybe a bun? Or is that redundant, given the placement?

Anna:
It could be the new man bun. And those suggestions had to come from Gunner, because you’d never think about whether something is symmetrical or redundant.

Unicorn Daddy:
Guilty.

Anna:
Well, tell him Hi. And also tell him thanks a lot, since now I’m picturing a swirly ass-bun and giggling harder than is appropriate, considering A) Burnout is humping someone in front of me and B) Everyone else is drunk and grieving. So I’m putting my phone away and getting back to work.

Unicorn Daddy:
I’d better get back to work, too.

Anna:
Yep. Be careful down there, and I love you, and all that crap.

Unicorn Daddy:
All that crap right back to you.