Page 38 of Contracted to the Bikers

My heart swells with pride at her composure and fearlessness. We don’t hear Briggs’ reply, but from Sloane’s response, we know Jessy is okay, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Prove it, let me speak to her.” There’s a brief moment before the phone is passed over, and then Sloane’s voice changes, breaking slightly as she speaks to her daughter. “Jessy, it’s okay, momma’s coming for you.” She laughs slightly at something Jessy says. “Yes, we have your T. rex, he’s okay.”

The phone must be taken from Jessy again as there’s a brief pause where Briggs makes his demands. Sloane’s reply is as cold as ice and makes me grin savagely. “Fuck your demands, and fuck you, you messed with the wrong family.”

She hangs up the phone, directing her next words to all of us. “Go get my daughter.”

Rook gestures, silently directing us into position. We spread out, surrounding the building, weapons drawn. When everyone is in place, Rook gives the order. “Move.”

We breach the doors, knocking down or blowing them apart. My training kicks in, and the soldier takes over. Everything becomes a blur of gunfire, shouts, and bodies hitting concrete as men duck for cover. Briggs’ men go down fast, injured but alive, the swift surprise attack catching them off guard. Their return shots miss or hit Kevlar—we’re not losing anyone today. The attack is lackluster, the numbers are smaller than expected, and the men are untrained; it’s not the well-trained force we anticipated. We win easily, but there’s still no sign of Jessy.

Briggs tries to run. He almost gets away from us. It’s only by chance that he collides with me after I take a wrong turn and end up back in an area we’ve already cleared. I turn the corner at the exact moment that he slunk out of a cupboard he was hiding in like a coward. His face is a picture of shock when he sees me. He reacts like a fool, turning his back on me and running. If I wanted him dead, he’d be an easy target, but Sloane insisted we take him alive. Holstering my gun, I run and rugby tackle him, knocking the breath from him and breaking some of his ribs with a satisfying crack.

I roll him over, gripping the front of his shirt. “Where’s the kid?” Briggs doesn’t respond, so I punch him hard in the face, breaking his nose, the skin splitting like an overripe plum.

“Fuck!” he curses, wincing.

“Where’s the kid?”

He spits, a bloody glop landing on the floor. “Her bitch mother knows what I want. Then I’ll tell you.”

I slap him hard this time, a backhand across the face. The blow is more humiliating, more degrading, and his eyes flash fire at me for the insult. “Where is she?”

The static on my comms unit hisses. “Jessy has to be in the office; it’s the only place we haven’t checked. Where is it, Sloane?” Cruz says over it.

“North side,” Sloane replies instantly. “Second door on the left.”

The look on Briggs’ face tells me that’s where Jessy is. I’m close. I radio the guys for backup. Not wanting to give Briggs the satisfaction of talking to him further, I ignore his promises and threats. The others arrive to find me sitting on an outraged Briggs, his protests falling on deaf ears. “You’ll pay for this!” he sputters.

The men cackle with laughter, delighting in taunting him as they tie him up to take him outside. “Tell it to the cops,” I mutter.

Briggs looks at me and sneers. His expensive suit is torn and in disarray, his nose is swollen, and his eyes are starting to bruise. “You really are as stupid as you look if you think the cops will be able to pin anything on me.”

I try not to listen. The evidence here is overwhelming, but I also know not to underestimate the enemy, and Briggs has friends in high places. I have to trust that Sloane is right and that the system will prevail. I don’t bother to respond, turning my back and rushing off to where Jessy is.

I move quickly and silently, aware every second is a risk. God knows who Briggs left her with, what his orders were. If his men know we’ve caught him… I don’t let myself finish the thought.

I reach the office door first, just as Cruz and Rook appear at the other end of the corridor and kick it open. My heart stutters as I realize the room is empty, but then I hear the sounds of cartoons coming from behind another door.

Relief hits me so hard it almost knocks me down as I enter the box room and see Jessy’s face. She’s sitting on a swivel chair, snacks scattered on the desk beside her, a small TV playing cartoons. She’s unharmed and alone. Briggs clearly didn’t expect an ambush, nor did he think a six-year-old needed watching in a windowless room. Either that or she drove them mad with questions. Jessy isn’t the type of kid to believe any old BS they might have told her.

“Hey, kid,” I say, voice rough.

She blinks, turning to face me. “Boone!” She launches off the chair and runs straight at me. I catch her mid-air, pulling her tight against my chest, holding her like I’m never letting go again.

“You okay?” I ask, breathing her in.

“I’m fine,” she says. “But this place is dumb.”

I huff out something that might be a laugh. “Yeah. I agree.”

“It’s so boring here,” she announces to Cruz and Rook over my shoulder, seemingly unconcerned that we’re all armed and blood-spattered. She looks behind us, realizing her mom is missing from the rescue party. “Where’s Mommy?”

“She’s waiting outside,” Rook assures her.

That’s all she needs to hear. She nods as I put her back down, and she places her little hand in mine. “Let’s go,” I tell her.

“Did you find Trixy? I didn’t like to leave her behind, but I thought you’d follow the breadcrumbs like in the story,” she asks.