“What are we waiting for?” Emmett asked, a gleam entering his eyes.
Wilder’s lips pulled into a wry smile before he turned and tugged Emmett along. No one stopped them as they headed through the gym and down the hallway, which was lucky because he wasn’t about to let anyone slow him down. Not when he could have Emmett in his bed in ten minutes.
They’d only just made it out the back door when he jerked Emmett up against him, mouth crashing down on Emmett’s. He swallowed Emmett’s moan when he parted his lips, their tongues tangling in a deep kiss while he grabbed a handful of Emmett’s ass with each hand.
“We should take this home,” Emmett said against his lips, pulling out of Wilder’s arms, lips twitching as if he was trying not to smile as he backed toward the motorcycles.
He would’ve followed immediately if not for that word: home. It made him stop to stare at Emmett because he didn’t know how he’d gotten this fucking lucky. Emmett thought of the clubhouse as home? Fuck. He wanted that to be true. He wanted Emmett to stay with him. He wanted a home with him.
Emmett reached his bike, putting his hands behind him on the seat while he raised a brow at Wilder. He could just imagine how damned good he’d look in a leather cut, that smirk on his face. Oh, he knew what he was doing. They weren’t making it to the clubhouse before he had Emmett screaming his name.
A wicked smile spread on his lips, and he took a step toward Emmett, the click of car doors opening stopping him in his tracks. He jerked his head to the right, his heart freezing in his chest. Four men in black outfits, scarves pulled up to cover the lower half of their faces, came out of a van parked just behind the row of motorcycles.
He reached for his gun but hesitated. They were too close to Emmett. He couldn’t risk it, so he took off running toward Emmett instead.
He was too far away to get there first.
“Emmett!”
Emmett blinked at him, then whirled around to see the approaching men. A heartbeat later, Emmett was yelling Wilder’s name as one of the masked men grabbed him from behind, arms wrapping around his middle and lifting him off his feet.
The three other men set their sights on Wilder.
“Get him in,” the tallest of the masked men charging toward Wilder yelled, and the one grappling with Emmett started moving in the direction of the van.
Fuck no! They weren’t taking Emmett away from him. They couldn’t fucking have him.
He slammed straight into the nearest of the masked men, sending the asshole crashing down onto the concrete. He nearly joined him, but righted himself just in time, whirling around to face his next attacker. He only got a second to duck before a fist swung at his face. It didn’t leave him with enough time to avoid the boot coming at his right hip. A grunt flew from his lips, but he managed a swing of his own. All he hit was air, and then he had to jump back again.
He had the three men circling him, all with clear intent in their eyes. He blocked a blow, then took one in the shoulder, barely landing a kick to the knee of the bulkiest of the men. His leg disappeared under him, but he was back up a second later, only looking more determined than ever.
They were trained. Well-fucking-trained. Nothing like the two assholes who’d gone for Emmett in the boxing room.
A yell snapped his attention to the van, and ice ran through his veins as he saw Emmett still fighting the asshole trying to drag him inside.
An explosion made sparkles appear in his vision, pain following a second later as he hit the ground. He blinked, realizing there hadn’t been an explosion. One of them had hit him with something hard in the back of the head.
Blood ran down the side of his face, dripping onto the ground, his vision blurring as pain speared through his head with the intensity of a lightning strike. He pushed off the ground, barely getting to his knees. He looked up, a sapphire blue gaze clashing with his.
“Wilder!” Emmett yelled, scratching and kicking at the man holding him.
He managed to turn his head to look over his shoulder just as a boot hit him in the side, knocking him down. He felt a burn onhis skin as he slid across concrete, but he ignored the pain and pushed himself up only to be knocked right back down, a heavy weight settling on his back.
“No,” he gasped out, slamming his elbow into the side of his attacker’s face, trying to get free so he could get to Emmett. He could hear him scream, the ice-cold terror inside him nearly drowning it out.
He landed on his back and tried to reach for the gun at his hip, only to be blocked by the asshole’s knees as he settled on top of him. Hands closed around his throat, squeezing tight as he trashed.
“Not my brother, you bitch!”
Blood splattered his face, and he gasped for air, everything woozy as shit.
The weight on him disappeared, and he sucked in a painful breath, then coughed hard.
Jane’s face appeared in front of him. Faces. There were several, and her mouth was moving on all of them, but the only thing he could hear was a dull throb. He blinked, the blinding pain behind his eyes seemingly there to stay.
He drew in a deep breath and clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus, to see and hear. To clear the fog.
“Please tell me you’re okay?”
