Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(182)

“Sounds like a plan!” Missy said. “Very thoughtful. Very original. Totally not mine.”

She reached up and slapped Thorn on the shoulder, then turned around and led us out. The prospects scrambled to get their bikes going before we pulled out of the driveway. I sat in the back, holding Caleb, trying to let the light humor wash over me.

The girls made me laugh, even with the uncertain hell waiting up ahead. But I couldn't hold onto the comic relief.

Not until I knew what happened to Roman. Please, God, let him be okay.



I'd closed my eyes the whole way there. Not far from the clubhouse, Missy pulled over and waited. It took the prospects about ten minutes to ride in, comb through the place, and then give us a call to come through the gate.

We parked and made our way to the back. They shoved several guns into everybody's hands. I'd learned to shoot with Norm and Uncle Ralph. I wasn't afraid of guns, but there was something strange about having one in my purse on the floor while Caleb sat on my lap.

I prayed I wouldn't have to use it, but I would in a heartbeat to defend my baby, or any of these girls here. We headed for the storage room in the back.

It was the only place with a thick metal door. Missy and Christa both suffered here, back when the club was run by Fang. He'd used it as a torture chamber, and I could feel the black pain dripping off the walls, cold and unsettling. I cuddled Caleb close, if only to guard him from the same dark energy.

We huddled together, waiting for what felt like half the night, though it was only another hour. Caleb finally dozed off. I was afraid Christa would wake him when she jumped up, pressing her ear to the wall.

“You hear that? Motorcycles.”

Missy and I stood, following her to the thick wall. It wasn't easy to hear through it, but the longer I strained my ears, the more I could make out the distinct guttural roar of Harleys. Lots of them, swarming like bees.

A couple minutes later, Thorn pounded on the door. “Coast is clear, girls.”

“We're ready! Let us out!” I yelled, covering my son's ears.

The door creaked open. The same two prospects blocked our paths, and Thorn muttered something about guns.

We all reached into our purses. I was relieved to get rid of mine, and hopeful because it meant maybe things were going to be okay after all.

But at the last second, something stopped me. No, I didn't want the gun around, especially with Caleb. But what if I needed it someday to keep him safe?

I looked at the empty hand Thorn held out for mine. “Let me keep this for a little while.”

He squinted. “Can't let you do that. Club property.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on. I know you guys have tons of these things. The serial numbers are all filed off too, aren't they? I know how to shoot. My Uncle took me out to blow up bottles in my teens. He sent me to a safety class. I know how to handle these things.”

“Christ. You gonna give me anything but trouble today?”

“Maybe. But I guess that depends whether or not you want me to explain to Roman how you yanked away the only thing making me feel safe...”

He let out a long sigh. “Fuck it. You win. Keep the gun. But if something happens, you didn't get that thing from me. Promise?”

I nodded, smiling to myself. I didn't want to carry it around anymore as soon as we got home, but something made me feel better about having a spare at home.

Even if this all blew over, Roman couldn't always be there. One day, I might have to depend on myself.

The men were filing in through the garage door when we got into the bar. Blackjack stepped through first, motioning to Asphalt and a prospect. They were carrying a strange, sweaty man in a dirty white suit. When I saw the deep, dark blood stain all the way up his leg, I covered my mouth.

“Keep moving, boys,” Blackjack growled, following his men. “Get this piece of shit in the back. We'll get something on the bastard's bum leg after everybody's done playing doctor. Then he's ours.”

They disappeared down the hall we'd just left My heart pounded like a war drum, and I counted all the familiar faces filing in.

Brass and Rabid appeared together, their faces solemn. Christa and Missy bolted out of their seats. They hit their guys hard, locking their hands over their huge necks, smothering them in kisses and questions.

More prospects came. Southpaw was next. Then a gigantic man wearing Prairie Devils MC colors, the Grizzlies old rival-turned-ally. He was almost as big as Roman, and he carried a black bag, marching straight toward the back where the others had gone.

No sign of Roman.

Missy and Christa were still chattering away when I walked up. Rabid saw me, and his gaze darkened.

“Where's Roman?”

“They're working on him now, Sally.”

Oh, God. If it wasn't for holding onto Caleb, my knees certainly would've dropped out. “Working on him?”