GAUGE
Istared down at my lap, the horror of what had just happened trying to sink in. Christian was talking but all Icould hear was the blood rushing in my ears. My mouth filled with water, the feeling of sickness crawling over my tongue.
Ireplayed over and over who Ihad just seen in the clubhouse, who would have been killed. But it was hard to establish since Ididn’tknow how big the bomb was. How big the radius of the blast would be. Would my brothers out in the workshop have been hit? Who had Iseen out there? Cueball and Sketch? Or was it Cueball and Pops? Dom and Casa, Shooter, Fighter, and Battle, they would be on their way here, no doubt, but Rider… Was he at the club, passed out in one of the back bedrooms, or had Charlie taken him somewhere to get cleaned up? And what prospects had been left behind? Had Max been inside? What girls would have been working today? Devlin? Jodie? At least Rose wasn’tthere.
Fuck… My clubhouse was gone. My family had been hurt, killed, or worse.
And then another thought hit me.
Had Laney been in there? My own flesh and blood.
But worse still, she was pregnant with my grandchild.
Ilooked up at Christian. He was still talking endlessly, his mouth moving, but no words were reaching my ears. It was just white noise. Abuzz of bees. It was nothing, just like he was about to become. When our gazes connected he fell silent, but aslow smile slid onto his face. Grief and rage burned through my body, my muscles aching to destroy something. To destroyhim.
If he’dkilled my little girl and my grandchild, Iwould hunt down everyone he’dever known and loved and bleed them dry.
“Don’tblame me. You were the one that pressed the button,” he mocked.
My vision spun before righting itself. He was right; Ihad pressed the button, but it hadn’tbeen by choice. Another man might have been eaten up by guilt and grief, blaming himself, but not me. Grief didn’tmake me stupid. It didn’tskew my vision, it only cleared it—clarifying exactly what it was that needed to be done.
“Tell me where she is, Bishop,” he said again, his words making it through the ringing in my ears. “You should see what else we have planned if you don’tdo as Isay.”
Itook along, steadying breath, and then Icurled my hands into fists and flexed my arms and shoulders as Ibegan to pull. At first Christian had no idea what Iwas doing. He frowned, his frown deepening as Igritted my teeth and continued to pull, and then the first of my wrists snapped free of their restraints, blood dripping from my cut wrists toward my fists.
He reached for his gun on the kitchen counter to my left as Istood up abruptly, kicking his legs out from under him. His men lunged toward me as Ireached for his gun, snatching it up quickly. Christian fell backwards, calling out in surprise, and Iaimed his own gun at him.
“Tell ‘em to drop their weapons,” Iordered.
“Ican’t,” he protested through clenched teeth. “Kill me if you must, but you’re not leaving here alive today and neither is the girl.”
My gaze flicked around the kitchen as his guards moved closer to me. “Back it up, motherfuckers, and put your guns down before Iblow his goddamn brains all over this floor.”
They stopped moving but didn’tlower their guns, so Ifired around into Christian’skneecap as awarning. He screamed in pain and began rolling around on the ground, his hands clasping his now destroyed knee. He yelled furiously in another language, spitting at my feet, but Iwasn’tlistening.
“Isaid, drop your weapons!” Iyelled, my tone full of fury.
The men began backing up, their guns lowering, but none of them dropped their weapons. My patience was wearing thin, so, chair still attached to my right arm, Iraised my arm up high and swung it against the kitchen work surface, where it smashed, sending wood fragments all around us. As the men ducked, unsure of what Iwas doing, and only now realizing that Ihad still been attached to the chair, Idropped down, grabbing Christian and dragging him with me as Imoved back to my original hiding spot behind the counter.
“You’re dead, everyone you know is dead!” Christian yelled, asmear of blood being left in his wake. “The Highwaymen are done. You have no idea what you’ve got yourself mixed up in.” His face had paled and sweat crept along his brow as his eyes burned into mine.
My heart was pounding but my head was clear. Ireached out, punching him square in the jaw to shut him up. His eyes swam to the back of his head and Ilooked around the kitchen, calculating my next move.
It was twelve steps to the wine cellar.
One door.
One keypad combination.
And God knew how many men were behind me.
But Ihad to do it.
He had to pay for what he’djust done.
Jolie would be safe until my brothers got there, of that Iwas certain. But this motherfucker wasn’t. Christian was mine, all mine, and he was going to pay.
