Hawk sighs. “That’s a question you should know the answer to, dude. Unless you want to dance with the Reaper.”
“Quiet, Hawk,” I say. “Answer the question.”
“Yeah, I want to live. What if hell is worse?” Blade’s mouth twists into a frown.
“The future you’re running towards is worse than hell. What if you caused your sister and your aunt’s death, and lived?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen. I’d die rather than let someone hurt them.”
“You nearly had the cartel turning up on the doorstep of your aunt’s place. Do you know I had to call in a favor to stop them from firebombing it, to smoke you out? I’d say that’s losing control. Now I’m taking it back. You do what I tell you. Agreed?”
“I didn’t lose control.”
I raise the gun. “You’re standing here, my gun pointed at you, with the bag you stole in my hands, with my brothers on either side of you, ready to take you down if I even flick my head in your direction, with your sister upstairs and you think you’re in control? This is not a game with any winners, Blade.”
His shoulders sag. He’s defeated. I’ve seen that look on enough guys in my time and despite all the shit he’s put us through, it bothers me.
“Okay. Tell me what I have to do.”
ChapterEight
KAIA
A rumble of thunder wakes me up.
I’ve been lost in a dream where Saxon and I are playing with our son, in front of a house with flowers around the door. Saxon’s motorcycle is parked outside and we’re laughing as we run around in the sunshine. The dream is so sweet that I’m reluctant to leave it, closing my eyes tighter and trying to hold on to the last remnants as the thunder gets louder.
Saxon’s not here, and my shoulders droop with disappointment as I sit up. I wanted to wake up to his kisses and then wrap my body around him. I’ve never felt the way I did last night, complete and whole and cherished. Like I was the most precious person alive. Loved.
But maybe I’m living in a fantasy land. How are things going to work out, despite Saxon’s sweet words? In the heat of the moment I trusted him completely, but now, upstairs in his clubhouse, I’m questioning everything. What if I’m wrong? What if he just wanted to sweet-talk me into his bed? To get me where he wanted so he had control over me and my brother?
I shake my head. I’m being ridiculous. I need to find him, to be close to him again and these doubts will disappear. I stand up, my body aching a little from everything we did last night. I pull on my shirt and jeans, find my sneakers, and then head downstairs.
The clubhouse is deserted, although the jukebox is still playing at a much lower volume, its neon lights flickering in time to the beat of the music. There’s a pot of coffee behind the bar and I pour myself a cup. Outside, the darkening sky is illuminated with flashes of lightning.
I take a sip, wrapping my fingers around the cup for warmth. Why am I here? Did I think I could make things right by falling in love with Saxon? By sleeping with him? By having his baby? It was perfect last night, but in the cold light of day, it all seems like a dream.
I put the cup down and rub my hands over my belly. I can’t kid myself, though. This is what I want. I want Saxon’s baby. To have a family of my own, with the man who’s swept me off my feet in every possible way. Made me give up my control and follow his lead.
The sound of raised voices after the last rumble of thunder has me walking to the window by the parking lot.
Saxon stands tall in front of my brother, gun pointing directly at his head. His eyes are fixed on Blade, his hand steady. His henchman Joker stands to his left, a menacing grin on his face, while another familiar face - one of the guards from last night - is holding a bag in front of him.
My mouth goes dry and I almost lose my footing, clutching onto the edge of the window frame. It’s as if my body is made of china, fragile and brittle, and I could break apart at any second. Saxon lowers the gun as my brother falls to his knees in front of him, his hands raised.
I fight the urge to cry out. I have to think of a way to save my brother. I can’t take on three guys. If I scream, the club is going to have Saxon’s back, not mine. A surge of acid rises in my throat. What if I’m next? The floor upstairs creaks. People must be getting up. I can’t risk going upstairs to get my cell from my bag and call the police.
I spin around, looking for an exit. If I can get out of here fast enough and find someone, maybe I can help Blade. I run around the back of the bar, trying to be as quiet as I can. The main front door leads directly to the parking lot, so that’s out. There’s a small door to my right behind the bar, so I push through it into a small, pristine kitchen.
There’s a door at the back and I race through it, knocking into a jar with cooking utensils on the side counter. My heart leaps as they clatter to the floor, but I don’t stop, continuing through a laundry room, and then pushing through the back door. I pump my legs, running as fast as I can through a back lot. It’s crowded with crates and I weave around them, slowing my pace so I don’t bump into them.
Rain starts to fall, clouding my vision. The clubhouse is on the outskirts of town, on the road that leads out to the mountains. There aren’t any houses close by. I curse myself for not trying to sneak upstairs and get my cell to call the cops.
I exit the backlot, looking around wildly. In the distance is what looks like a gas station. If I cut through the patch of trees at the back of the club, I can stay off the road. But what if I’m too late? What if they kill Blade?
I start running again, my breath hitching as tears mix with the falling rain on my face. A huge rumble of thunder makes me jump, all my senses heightened as my feet pound against the damp earth, my lungs burning. The tree branches scrape against my exposed skin, leaving small scratches as I push past them. I have to save Blade, before it’s too late.
The gas station comes into view as the trees start to thin out, its lights piercing through the gloom. Over the heavy rain and thunder, heavy steps thud behind me and I whip my head around, my feet sliding on the muddy ground.
