Techy (Devil Souls MC Book 2)(54)

He opens the passengers door and pushes me in. He slams the door, and I reach down for the door handle, but it’s been taken out. Fuck me! He gets in the driver’s side, and the truck roars to a start. Then he speeds out from behind the clubhouse.

We come up to the gate and I feel a sense of hope because the prospects will know that something is wrong.

I sit up farther in my seat so they can see me.

The truck speeds up faster and faster. Oh, no. He isn’t… I curl into a ball in the seat because he is going to ram the gate to escape.

Boom!

There is yelling and a God-awful sound of metal crunching. Glass rains down into the vehicle, covering us. Thank goodness I braced myself or I would have been seriously hurt.

Raising back up in my seat, I turn around to look out the back window. I see all of my MC guys filing out into the yard, my Jordan being one of the first outside. He looks at the truck and I see that he’s pissed.

My man is coming.

The truck speeds up, and I grab the “oh shit” handle, hanging on for the ride because I know that shit isn’t going to end well. I hear a huge thunder of bikes starting up and look back. They are thundering out of the clubhouse parking lot and following us. My Jordan is the first one in line.

He knows.

To keep from bursting into tears, I lay my head against the window to calm myself. What I wouldn’t give to be in his arms right now, to have his lips on my forehead and his hand on my stomach, to feel him moving inside me.

I just want my man. I want to feel safe and protected.

I hear a bike coming up fast, and I open my eyes, looking out the window. Jordan drives up beside us, and I sob at the sight. I touch the window and see that Jordan is mad—so mad I can almost feel it.

He is so close right now, but so far away.

“Bitch, get the fuck down!”

A hand twines in my hair and I am jerked away from the window. I look at Jordan, and if I thought he was mad before…

“You are not going to win,” I tell the guy who kidnapped me.

He snarls at me, “I don’t give a fuck.”

Jordan and Butch are behind him. Looking out the back window, I see that we are surrounded. My heart soars at the sight.

“SHIT!” he screams at the top of his lungs, looking out the window at something on his side.

I follow his gaze and see Lane.

The truck swerves to the side and the truck bounces up and down. We are in a huge field. The truck is spinning out because the ground is very soft. He keeps on driving. I grip the “oh shit” handle because I see a creek up ahead. I’m not sure if he sees it or not.

Crap. He doesn’t see it.

The truck nosedives into the creek bed, and I hang on for dear life, not wanting to get hurt. The driver bangs his head on the side of the steering wheel. The windshield is broken out. What if I just climbed out really quickly?

After seeing that he is still lying down, I stand up, put my legs through the windshield, and slide down the hood. Once my feet hit the ground, I take off running. I climb back up the hill. Once I hit the field, I go at a dead sprint. I see Jordan running toward me, along with the guys. I sob at the sight and quicken my sprint.

“Stop, bitch.”

I hear a pistol being cocked and stop dead in my tracks.

“I will kill her!” he screams. His face is pale, and I can tell he’s scared. Scared doesn’t equal good things.

“Rave, why have you done this?” Lane asks him, but I don’t take my eyes off the man pointing the gun in my direction.

“I owe a debt that money won’t pay, but pussy will.”

My stomach sinks when I realize that this man was going to give me away and I was going to be used and abused. My stomach turns with vomit and I can’t hold it in. I bend down and throw up. I’m physically ill at the thought of what could happen to me.

“Angel.”

I close my eyes at the sound of my name coming from my man, but I’m afraid to look and make the man mad. I don’t want to take any chances at all.

“This won’t end well for you,” Kyle tells him.

The gun starts shaking in Rave’s hand. I see movement behind him. I see that it’s one of Lane’s men, the one who reminds me of Butch.

I see him raising his hand and I know it’s a Taser. The man mouths at me to duck and raises three fingers. I nod—just barely.

He raises his fingers. One, two, three. On three, I hit the ground and cover my head. I hear a gun shot and then the sound of a man hitting the ground. I don’t move; I’m frozen with fear.

I feel someone standing above me, so I look up.

Jordan.

After scrambling up, I go into his arm, my legs around his waist, my head in the crook of his neck. One of his hands goes to the back of my head, and the other goes to the middle of my back. I breathe in his scent.