What I don’t need to know are the details.
“I’m not going to let you walk out there without me. This is all my fault. He’s here because of me,” my breathing picks up as the reality if the situation slams into me. The fear that chased me away from the police station days ago is back, but it’s different now. It’s not as sharp and I know it’s because of Mayhem. “I’ll give him what he wants if that’s what it takes. I’ll hand over the recording.”
“No,” Briggs barks out the word, his hands clamping down on my shoulders and grounding me. “This was never about the recording and was always about him covering his ass. You ran and he figured you knew. Now he’s tracked you here.”
It feels like his touch holds me up and gives me strength. I nod and while I have questions, I don’t ask them.
Even though fear is curling in my gut, I know I need to do this. I have to.
“I need to face him,” my voice breaks and I hope it doesn’t make me look weak because then Briggs will insist that I stay here.
I can’t sit in this office knowing the man I’ve been running from is right out at the gate. And I know I’m not going to bestepping out there by myself. I’ll have this man, and the rest of the club, at my back. I already know without it being said.
“Fuck,” Briggs groans, his head falling back on his shoulders like he’s already regretting words he hasn’t said yet. When he tips his head forward again, the look on his face is pure resignation. “Fine. But you stay right next to me,” he commands.
I nod once. While it feels like a victory, it’s bittersweet. The reality is I’m about to walk out of the place that has been my sanctuary, to confront a man who has tracked me this far and isn’t afraid to kill.
“Damn,” Rampage holds out the word, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of us. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
I can’t help but ask, “What day?”
“The day our Prez handed his balls over to a woman,” Rampage practically giggles the words and I roll my eyes.
“I just know I’m going to regret this,” Briggs mutters under his breath before shooting Rampage a look of frustration and annoyance.
As my man leads me out of his office, I try and control how hard my heart is pounding in my chest. I know it’s just a side effect of what I’m about to do.
Am I really about to step out of my safe place to confront a murderer? And it was my idea?
The looming, steady presence of Mayhem at my side helps to remind me that I’m not doing this alone. I have men at my back who have already become friends, and big brothers, and family. I think the feeling has come on so quickly because it’s right.
And inevitable.
“Don’t lose your composure,” Briggs murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to say a word while we’re out there. Prepare yourself because I’m sure he’ll pull his gun, but you don’t need to be afraid. We will be safe and covered.”
He sounds so sure of his words. His confidence helps, and I find myself believing in what he’s telling me. Maybe we will walk away from this without anyone getting hurt. Maybe
That’s what would really kill me—someone getting hurt because I showed up at their gates.
As we walk through the main room, a few guys fall into step behind us. I can feel their presence, like a wall of steady comfort, a wall of leather and determination.
No one says a damn word as we step out of the barn and head toward the gate as one unit. No one questions my presence at Mayhem’s side. No one even does a double take.
Like this is the way it was always supposed to be.
Wagner notices me the moment we’re close enough. His eyes gleam like he’s won something, not knowing there isn’t even a battle to begin with. He lost the moment he figured the best next step was to come straight at the Devil’s Saints Motorcycle Club.
No one breaks stride, the power Wagner thinks he has here is without weight. He just doesn’t see it yet.
But that’s okay.
When we stop, Mayhem steps in front of me slightly. He doesn’t block me entirely from Wagner, but the intent behind the action is clear.
“I’ve gotta say,” Wagner’s voice is slimy as he looks at me, “the last place I expected to find a nice small-town girl like you is at a motorcycle club compound.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to because the last person I need to justify anything to is this man.
Wagner smirks, his badge proudly on display, before pulling his gun, pointing it right at me. Mayhem steps in front of me fully and my fingers curl into the leather of his cut which is warm from the heat of his body.
