Reaper must be thinking the same thing as we pull into the gravel lot of an old meatpacking plant and park our bikes. “I think these idiots are here alone.”
“I can take them out myself,” I tell my brothers.
“The hell you will,” Rogue tells me, palming the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
“We’ll let you be the hero, but you’re not going in alone.” Reaper's word is law, and I’m thankful for his level head at the moment.
We spread out around the perimeter, checking for any guards or lookouts. Of course, there are none. Idiots. Not that I’m complaining. It certainly makes our job easier, though I hate that Mika had to go through any of this at all.
I stand with one hand on the back door to the warehouse, the other hand wrapped around my gun. My muscles ripple with tension, but I take a cleansing breath, relaxing a bit, knowing I have the full force of my brothers behind me. With one final nod, I shove the door open and barge inside, gun first.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but when I do, I seethe at what I see. Mika is tied to a metal chair with duct tape over her precious lips. Her eyes cut to mine, relief flooding her features. Thank Christ, she’s okay.
“What the fuck?” one of the kidnappers shouts. He spins around on unsteady feet, and I wonder if he’s drunk. The man fumbles with a gun in his pocket and then belches loudly, confirming my suspicions.
“Heath, you shit-stain, how did you let this happen?” If that one’s Heath, then this one must be Grant. He seems to be a leader of the operation, though that’s not saying much. Grant is tall, broad-shouldered, and has a thick torso. He looks like he could throw a punch and take one, too. I wonder how well he’ll take a bullet.
I squeeze the trigger, aiming for his shoulder, though all I want to do is see a bullet between his eyes. However, I don’t want Mika to watch me kill her only family. I’m her family now, but I still hate the thought of her witnessing any more violence.
The shot echoes around the empty warehouse, quickly followed by Grant’s agonizing, high-pitched scream.
“Oh shit,” Heath mutters, frozen in place as he stares at his brother writhing on the ground. His hand is still on his gun, though it’s shaking uncontrollably. I doubt that he has any aim at all, especially under the influence, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t accidentally fire off a shot and hurt someone.
Reaper takes a step toward him, causing the man to stumble backwards on his ass. His gun skates across the floor, where Rogue stops it with his foot and picks it up. Reaper holds Heath down with a boot on his neck, enjoying the way this pathetic motherfucker cries and begs for his life. Reaper looks at me and nods, signaling for me to go get my girl.
I’m next to her in an instant, kneeling in front of her and looking my precious woman over for signs of injury. I make quick work of her restraints, then focus on the duct tape on her mouth. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. This might hurt a little.” She nods and squeezes her eyes closed while I rip the tape off her mouth as quickly as possible.
She gasps and falls forward into my open arms, clinging to me with all of her strength. I hold her close, burying my nose into the top of her head and breathing her in. Mika is trembling in my arms, her chest heaving with heavy sobs.
“I thought you were dead,” she cries.
I peel her off my chest just enough to look her in the eye. “You were worried about me?” She nods. “Jesus, Mika, I was so terrified when I got your call. But you did so well. You were so smart to call and give me the information you did.”
“You saved me.”
“No, sweet girl. You saved yourself.”
I reluctantly untangle myself from my woman, though I keep an arm around her waist as I help her walk through the large building and out to my bike. I thought she would be relievedto finally be free and away from her foster brothers, but when she sees my motorcycle, she squeezes my hand and pulls me backwards, roughly.
Before I can ask her what’s wrong or what she’s doing. Mika shoves me back with a surprising amount of force and then sprints toward my bike. She throws herself on top of it as if jumping on a grenade, screaming the whole time that I need to back up.
I’m stunned into silence for a few moments. When nothing happens, I move slowly toward her so as not to spook her. My girl has been through so much in the last few days, and she might be having some kind of stress response, but I’m not sure. All I know is she doesn’t feel safe, which means I failed.
“No, Shadow,” she pleads. “I won’t let them kill you.”
“They’re not going to hurt you, me, or anyone ever again,” I say softly, trying to reason with her.
“But there’s a bomb on your bike!” she shouts. “They said they put a bomb on your bike and would blow you up if I didn’t leave with them.”
I wrap my arms around Mika and toss her over my shoulder, running across the lot before setting her down. “Stay.”
Of course, as soon as I turn around and head back to the bike, I hear her footsteps crunch on the gravel behind me. I look over my bike, not convinced those two morons inside know how to make a bomb or place it discreetly.
When I get to the back wheel, I see a blinking red light. My eyes widen, but I try not to let the fear show. I bend down, and the closer I look, the more I see it for what it really is. It’s just a GPS tracker, nothing more. Still, out of an abundance of safety, I check out the rest of my bike before yanking off the device and smashing it under my boot.
“Not a bomb,” I tell Mika. She rushes forward and throws herself into my arms. I catch her, just like I always will. In theheat of the moment, I needed to get her out of the way so I could eliminate the threat, and that’s exactly what she tried to do for me as well. “You threw yourself on a bomb for me,” I say more to myself than to her. “Don’t ever do that again,” I tell her more sternly.
“It wasn’t a bomb, though,” Mika tries to joke. Her voice is shaky, and her throat is clogged with tears. My sweet girl must be crashing from the adrenaline, just like I know I will soon as well.
