“You all just killed her!” Larson yelled.
Shotgun held Thatch’s eyes. “Allegra was dead anyway; Rain’s her only chance.”
Thatch looked away as Shotgun moved to stare out of the window. Everything was in Rain’s hands now. It was his husband’s responsibility to bring their woman back. A man he had once thought a coward for choosing his science over his sister was about to sacrifice himself for their woman, and Shotgun couldn’t be prouder.
Rain
I raced past security and straight to the laboratory. It was empty, which was what I had hoped. I’d no intention of giving the kidnappers the culture, but I was aware of being watched. Tucked behind the valid cultures were some failed tests. I’d kept the samples to investigate why, and I snatched several and put them in the lab’s cool box for transporting materials.
I’d no idea who was holding Allegra, but if they wanted the formula, they’d have to deal with me. As I left the building and headed to Shotgun’s Harley, my phone rang.
“We’ll text you the address. Drop the items there and leave.”
“No. I have the culture, but the process is locked in my mind. If you want it, you’ll release Allegra,” I argued.
“Get the documentation,” the man snarled.
“No.”
There was silence, before a slap echoed, and Allegra cried out.
“Now, that was me being nice. I won’t tell…”
“The answer is no. You need my formula, tell me where to meet, and if you harm Allegra one more time, I’ll end this and destroy the cultures. I can recreate it, the information’s in my brain, but you won’t have shit.”
The line went dead.
I waited impatiently, hoping these were greedy fucks. Seconds ticked past, and nothing happened. Finally, the phone pinged, and I looked down to see an address just outside Vale, thirty minutes away. Without a second thought, I started the bike and rode off.
Shotgun
“Where are you going?” Thatch demanded as Shotgun headed for the front doors.
“To get Allegra.”
“You’ve no idea where she is,” Thatch retorted.
“Not yet, but we will.”
“How?” Thatch asked suspiciously.
Shotgun looked around and leaned in closer. “My Hog has a tracking device. Rain won’t activate it until he’s at the address. As soon as he does, we’ll ride. Rain needs to keep them busy until we arrive.”
Thatch held Shotgun’s gaze, and he sighed. “Ain’t got time for this, Thatch.”
“Follow me,” Thatch ordered and slipped towards the side door, leading to the garage.
Shotgun followed.
“Here, take this. I’m taking the other,” Thatch stated, tossing Shotgun a set of keys. Shotgun didn’t know whether to be insulted. In front of him was a green and yellow Brough Superior Aston Martin AMB Pro 001 motorcycle. Thatch headed to the silver-and-blue one.
“That’s Barrett’s, try not to scratch it, he’ll cry,” Thatch said, swinging his leg over.
“Do you realise how fuckin’ stupid I’ll look on that?” Shotgun demanded.
“Yup. Call this payback for hurting Allegra. Now, are we riding or not?” Thatch retorted.
“Yeah. The club’s meeting us at ENS.”
