1
WRAITH
“Is he seriously doing this?” I ask my MC brother, Rogue.
He shrugs and readies his weapon while I do the same. “Shadow is an idiot, but he’souridiot.”
“Which means we have to go in for backup,” I finish for him. We give each other a look, then nod in confirmation.
I kick the front door of the foreboding mansion in, causing the wood to splinter. It was probably unlocked, but knowing these vile human trafficking auctions have been going on in our own backyard has me amped up and ready to mow down any rich motherfucker I see.
The entryway, while elaborately decorated with a chandelier and several large vases of fresh flowers, is empty. Rogue and I share a confused glance, then we both hear the commotion at the same time from somewhere in the left wing of the mansion. It sounds like a low rumbling that grows louder the closer we get.
Suddenly, an older man in a pristine tuxedo races down the hall and pushes past Rogue and me. “I was never here!” he says to no one in particular. “I was never here. I was never here,” the sweaty, panicked man repeats as he stumbles into the entryway and out the door.
We head in the direction the tuxedo-man came from, a picture of chaos emerging from the ballroom at the end of the hall. Broken champagne flutes and whiskey tumblers litter the floor, making everything sticky and crunchy as Rogue and I venture deeper into the auction venue.
Men in three-piece suits more expensive than my entire house are running around in a frenzied panic, shouting at each other. Royal blue velvet drapes hang from the windows, protecting the sins of the ultra-wealthy. The lights are dimmed, though still bright enough to reflect off the golden decor. It’s a gilded dungeon for dirty deeds done in the dark. The rich will walk away unscathed and unpunished, while the survivors will be forever trapped in a nightmare they didn’t deserve.
Fuck, the longer I’m here, the more I understand why Shadow couldn’t stomach it. My skin itches from breathing the same air as these wretched motherfuckers. I steady my breaths and focus back on the mission at hand.
When my eyes adjust to the darkened room, I notice several men lining the walls, each in a leather cut displaying their ugly-ass Sons of Destruction colors. My brothers and I at Wicked Riders MC have been trying to dismantle this auction and everyone involved - including our rival gang.
We knew Sons of Destruction were the initial contact point for the organizers. The Prez and his army of violent goons paved the way for the entire operation, and there have already been a few auctions. Without a permanent place yet, the illegal auction for women is constantly on the move. Me and my brothers always seem to be one step behind them, which is why we were sent here on a recon mission to collect information to take the operation out for good.
Recon missions are supposed to be stealthy. Silent. Unnoticed by the enemy.
Instead, Shadow decided to raid the goddamn place on his own, only giving Rogue and me a five second heads up. I can barely stomach being here, but at least I know enough not to take on an entire human trafficking ring alone. He better have a good reason for…
Shadow’s large frame darts from the stage, shirtless for some reason, and bent over something in his arms. Whatever it is, he’s protecting the damn thing as if it were the Holy Grail or some shit. My friend turns slightly, giving me a better view.
Oh, fuck. He’s not carrying anit, he’s carrying awho.
The normally aloof man looks down at the woman cradled against his chest, his features painted with worry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen our top Enforcer so anxious, or so furious for that matter. He looks torn between staying to throat-punching everyone in this room or leaving with his woman.
First our Prez, Reaper, gets himself a feisty little lady. Now it appears Shadow has fallen ass-over-heels for a woman, too. Looking at the lumbering man now, I hardly recognize him. Shadow yells at someone trying to stop him, then peers down at his cargo, making sure she’s okay. Who is this gentle giant? The Shadow I know gets the job done and comes back to the clubhouse to tell us how it went over a couple of beers.
Fools, both Reaper and Shadow, though I’d never say that to their faces. Who would want anything more than the biker life? A woman would only serve as a distraction, which is why I’ve avoided relationships since joining Wicked Riders. Not that I was much of a relationship guy before that, while I was in the military. Things never worked out that way for me, and I’m fine with it.
A door to the right of the stage swings open with a bang, and a woman emerges. Her emerald eyes shine with a feral gleam, her irises bouncing around the room as if honing in on her abusers. For some reason, I can’t look away. Her long, chocolatewaves bounce behind her as she sets her sights on one of the Sons of Destruction members.
Years of training kick in, and I calculate her predicted path, covering for the woman and watching out for anyone taking aim. I’ll put a bullet between their eyes before they can take their next breath.
Righteous fury emanates from her, and the curvy little lady parts the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea. She’s a goddess. A warrior.She’s mine.I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
A possessive streak I didn’t know I had splits my chest in two. The searing pain of not having her in my arms is almost unbearable, and I have to make a conscious effort to pull air into my lungs.I can’t save her if I pass out from lack of oxygen.
I watch in awe as my woman walks right up to a Sons of Destruction member and pulls the gun from his waistband. Damn. Maybe she doesn’t need saving after all.
While I love her independent streak, she doesn’t know these men like I do. She’s about to get herself killed.
My goddess points the 9mm at the man’s head, and he raises his hands in surrender. The way he looks at her makes me think they know each other. In fact, none of the Sons of Destruction members are touching her. Instead, they look around at each other uncomfortably while she storms through their line of defense and out the back door, shoving her gun in her bra.
As soon as she’s out of my line of sight, my heart drops to my stomach and my hands shake. I’ve become addicted to her in less than five minutes, and I need my next fix.
Fuck. Fuck me, I have to go after her.
But I can’t. My club needs me. This mission went to shit, and I’m part of the clean-up crew. One of three. Well, one of two, since Shadow is nowhere in sight. I imagine he took his woman away from this disgusting place.
