Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(50)

“Easy, son. Chances are the Chinese have already ambushed Gil and his men. We've got to make sure we aren't wandering into the same trap.” Blackjack got off his bike and stormed past me, moving as fast as his old war wound in the leg would carry him.

No way was he fucking serious, right? I wasn't gonna sit down and rehash all the intel I'd already fed Roman.

We'd wasted too much precious fucking time already. Elle Jo could be rotting away in some goddamned pit for all I knew!

“I can't let her die with them, for fuck's sake!” I started heading for my bike, pulled off just to the side. “We've gotta go now. The Chinese think they got the drop anyway, and they probably did with Tacoma. They won't see us coming. Let's –“

“Prez is right. Easy.” Roman slapped me on the shoulder and squeezed so hard it hurt. “We can't just ride in there with our dicks hanging out. You're letting your emotion do too much talking, brother. It's gonna make you a dead man.”

Behind him, Brass and Rabid nodded. Motherfuckers.

All of them. I'd seen them working with the same manic energy boiling my blood when their girls were on the line. Yeah, the fucks were trying to do me a favor now, making sure cooler heads prevailed, but it sure as shit didn't feel like it.

“Asphalt, don't waste your energy taking swings at your brothers.” The Prez stepped up, sensing the tension, looking like a wizard when the wind blew his long gray hair. “Let's huddle, son. Ten minutes. Just one of our boys getting shot because we could've used our brains is one man too many, I say. And as long as I'm sporting a patch that says President, you'd better believe what I say in this club is law.”

Much as I didn't want to admit it, he was right. I tried to pay attention to everything coming outta the Prez's mouth for the next ten minutes, just like he'd promised.

Too fucking bad my mind was anywhere but here.

I couldn't stop thinking about Elle Jo. Almost as much as I couldn't wait to throttle every last sonofabitch who'd dragged her into their damned mess.

Blackjack rattled off some elaborate strategy like the sorcerer he was. I looked at the brothers one-by-one, sharing the same wicked energy brewing in their eyes.

Once he was finished, the Prez gave the order and we got on our bikes. The two Tacoma prospects rode by my side, all the better to keep them in line if nerves got to 'em. No man ever forgets his first battle, and these poor fucks didn't have as much on the line as I did.

My thoughts rambled like a goddamned freight train as we tore down the highway, weaving around cars, heading for the docks where the warehouse sat.

Hang on, Elle baby, I'm coming. I'm never letting go again, no matter how many times you stab me through the heart.

We're doing things different, babe, mark my word. I'm gonna save you, fuck you, and love you 'til disobeying me again is the last thing you've ever got on your mind.

And if you don't like it, I don't care. I don't fucking care.

You belong to me, and you always will, even when I'm telling you don't like a goddamned fool.

We're coming. You're coming home. Then I'm gonna make you come so hard on my dick I break every defiant little shred in your body.



We knew the Tacoma boys had run into deep shit when we perched on the hill overlooking the warehouse district. Roman looked through his binoculars and grunted, muttered something about rows of abandoned bikes.

He also said he saw a truck parked by the wall with blood all over the driver's seat. The lazy fucks hadn't bothered to clean up whatever the hell happened there.

I helped the big guy pull the fat tube off his bike and start setting it up. I've never handled a fucking cannon before.

Mortar, to be precise, the sorta portable shit guerrillas used when they wanted to put some explosive teeth into their hit and run attacks. This one wasn't gonna be blasting anything fatal, though.

Once we had it together, the Prez pulled his smoke outta his mouth and stubbed it out on the ground.

Blackjack looked at Brass, Rabid, and the two prospects who'd rode up from Redding. “Go.”

They rode down the hill like demons, doing several passes around the warehouse, careful to shoot at anything moving inside if it looked remotely Chinese.

All hell broke loose when our group rounded the back. Orange fire exploded just ahead of my brothers' bikes, sending thick black smoke up into the sky above it. Roman's walkie-talkie hummed static, screams, and a raging curse that let us know our boys were still alive, even if they were busted up pretty bad.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

I was already getting on my bike, the Tacoma boys at my side, before the Prez gave the order.

We roared down the same slope as the others, but this time we made a fucking beeline for the center gate.

The flash grenades Roman slung outta the mortar blew up a little bit ahead of us, just on the other side.