"Please," I say, positioning myself between her and the approaching footsteps. "If it's me they want, maybe I can talk them down."
She opens her mouth to argue, but it's too late. Two men burst into the clearing, both holding handguns. They slow when they spot us, smiles spreading across their faces.
"Thompson," one says, satisfaction in his voice. "End of the line."
I straighten as much as my injured body allows, keeping Rebecca firmly behind me. "What does Walsh want with me? Those watches were years ago. Hardly seems worth all this."
The men exchange glances. The second one laughs, but there's no humor in it.
"You think this is about watches? Man, you really don't know, do you?"
They advance slowly, guns trained on us. I feel Rebecca's hands grip the back of my shirt, but she doesn't cower or make a sound. Brave woman.
"Look," I say, hands slightly raised. "Whatever this is about, it doesn't involve her. Let her go, and I'll come quietly."
"No deal," the first man replies. "Walsh wants both of you now. Can't have witnesses."
Fear shoots through me. Not for myself, but for Rebecca. She doesn't deserve this. All she did was help someone in need.
"Last chance," I warn, though it's an empty threat. In my condition, I'm no match for two armed men.
They move closer, just fifteen feet away now. I brace myself, mind racing for any way out of this situation.
And then, like an answer to an unspoken prayer, a new sound cuts through the forest. The distinctive rumble of motorcycle engines, multiple bikes approaching fast.
Hope surges through me. Dice. The Outlaw Order. They're coming.
The men hear it too, hesitating, glancing toward the road where the sound is coming from.
"We need to move," the first one says urgently. "Grab them both."
But the second man pauses, suddenly uncertain. "That sounds like a lot of bikes."
The engines grow louder, then cut off abruptly—close, very close. Voices call out, branches snap as people move through the forest.
A familiar voice echoes through the trees. "James!"
Dice. My little brother.
"Here!" I shout, my voice stronger than I expected. "Clearing! Armed men!"
The Walsh enforcers look panicked now, caught between completing their mission and self-preservation. The first man aims his gun directly at my chest.
"Don't move," he warns. "Anyone comes through those trees, you die first."
But footsteps are already crashing toward us from multiple directions. The men back up slightly, guns swinging between us and the trees surrounding the clearing.
"James!" The voice is closer now. Then two figures burst into the clearing from opposite sides. Dice and, to my surprise, Maddie.
Dice, my brother, has grown in the eighteen months since I last saw him. Taller, broader, wearing the leather prospect cut of the Outlaw Order MC. His face, so similar to mine but younger, is contorted with rage when he sees the guns pointed at me.
Maddie, my best and oldest friend, looks exactly the same. Wild dark hair, fierce eyes, the dangerous grace of a woman who's survived more than her share of trouble. She has a gun in her hand, aimed steadily at the nearest Walsh enforcer.
"Drop the weapons," she says, her voice deadly calm. "Or I drop you."
More people emerge from the trees. Men in leather cuts with the Outlaw Order patch, all armed, forming a circle around the clearing. The Walsh men are outnumbered eight to two. The fight leaves them visibly. They exchange glances, then slowly lower their guns.
"This isn't over," the first man says, but his voice lacks conviction.
