I couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t loosen the restraints binding my limbs. He could have done anything to me, and I’d have been able to do nothing but scream.
I swallow. “I don’t know. Half hour. Maybe less. I think we were on the highway for a while.”
“Then if had to guess, I’d say that’s where we are.”
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Yeah,” he says. “Shit.”
We’re not in South Bay anymore. No Sinners to come to his rescue. No handsome, dreamy-eyed dirty cop coming to mine. We’re on our own.
The panic is setting in again when a shout comes from outside. Multiple shouts. Laughing. A grunt. Then that big sliding door is screeching open, rusted metal rubbing against rusted metal as light floods in. Beyond the threshold, large spotlights shine down on heaps of scrap metal, wooden pallets, and several rusted-out cars. As Axe predicted, we seem to be in the middle of a massive junkyard.
Three leather-clad men stand before us. Here to end this. To kill Axe, to take me back. But that’s not what makes my stomach jump into my throat. It’s the fourth man. The one being dragged forward, doubled over, hands tied, blood dripping from his face.
My heart stops.
“Decker?”
His head snaps up. His eyes lock with mine. Then his face goes pale, shoulders slumping.
“Gracie…” he rasps.
They toss him into the hangar, and he lands with a thud at our feet. More laughing, and then the door slides shut.
“Oh my god.” I scoot towards him.
He’s lying on his back, that gash of his reopened and bleeding, his cheeks bruised and swollen. Like they used his face as a punching bag. Coughing, he curls onto his side.
I want to hold him, pull him onto my lap and wipe away all that blood. Fix this. Fix him. Fix us.
I fight against my restraints, desperate to take his face in my hands, to kiss him. To share one of those moments where the world around us stops. Ignore all the danger, the violence, the target on our backs.
He peers up at me. “You were supposed to be gone, Gracie. What the f”—he coughs again, spits blood, and then sighs—“what the fuck are you still doing here?”
“Doing what I said I was gonna do. I needed to make him listen. I had to try.”
“You were with Axe?” When I nod, he curses and lets out a deep sigh. “You weren’t supposed to be there.”
“What do you mean? Be where?”
“Think I can answer that,” Axe says, voice weak. “This was you, wasn’t it? You sent them to my fucking door. Called me, arranged a meeting, and then sent the enemy to take me out.”
Both men wear expressions of pure hostility, a lifelong hatred binding them. I wait for Linc to deny it. To swear he didn’t make a deal with the men who are here to hurt me, to drag me back across territory lines and make me live out my worst nightmare over and over again.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Decker says to me.
I glare at him. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want to punch me in the face.”
“Can’t help it. You lookextrapunchable right now.”
“I wouldn’t have set this up if I’d known you were gonna be there. It was only supposed to be him.”
“And you think that makes this better? You sent a pack of Raider dirtbags tokillmy fucking brother. How is that okay?” That last part comes out as a yell.
“If it’s any consolation, they weren’t actually gonna kill him.”
