“I’m guessing that was specifically aimed at you,” Mason’s voice sounded in my ear next.
“Hell, it’s always fucking aimed at him,” Liam piped up.
“No surprise there,” Van agreed.
“Goddamn wrecking ball,” I heard Tank chuckle down the line.
Fuckers.
Sure, they had a good point, but tonight wasn’t the night for it.
This was unlike any other mission I’d run with the club before.
This time it was real fucking personal.
It was a struggle to keep my emotions in check and for reason and patience to prevail.
And what made it all the more dangerous was that it wasn’t just me who had a personal stake in this.
So did Slade and Mason.
If one of us lost it, everything could go to hell and escalate into a fucking bloodbath in a matter of seconds.
Of course, given my rep, they all thought I was the most likely one to snap, to break position, and to fuck everything up in a fit of rage.
But I had my money on Slade.
The guy had been wound so tight for so long, a snap was definitely on the cards. Nobody could sustain that level of control forever. And if anything was gonna do it, I was hedging my bets that it would be this mission, him coming face-to-face with Nik Stone once again.
I swallowed down my anxiety and the rage building every second that went on by as we waited for things to get started, the result coming off as a bad case of impatience.
I was rooted to the spot with my back flat against one of the trees lining the south side of the truck stop in the middle of nowhere, miles outside any town or city.
Perfect killing ground.
Slade had wanted a location that would both prevent any collateral damage and eliminate the possibility of witnesses. Nik had been down for the lack of witnesses too so they’d managed to agree on this neutral ground for the supposed handover.
Thanks to Mason that wasn’t actually gonna happen. My woman wasn’t gonna be used as a ruse against that madman and his psycho club.
But we were playing a dangerous game by purposely not following through with our end of the deal. We had to tread carefully, everything had to go according to plan, all of us had to fall in line, and nobody could fucking well lose it.
So, yeah, despite how pissed I still was at Slade and the entire situation and the fact that my anxiety was spiking, I was determined to hold it together. And, right now, that meant holding my fucking position.
I took comfort in the fact that we knew what we were doing. We were all seasoned with this sort of thing, which, for once, was a blessing. We’d gotten here in enough time ahead of them to take position, we were all armed to the teeth and fanned out strategically, completely hidden by darkness and the heavy foliage lining the edge of the truck stop.
Not to mention, Slade had decades of experience under his belt with dicey situations like this and he’d always come out on top, he’d always survived even the worst of situations.
This was it, anyway. One last hurdle and all this bullshit would be over with.
After fucking forever we’d all be safe.
Well, as safe as we could be living the life we did with the club. As much as we’d been trying to go legit, with the burden of the Strikers threat hanging over us for so long, we hadn’t been able to take it all the way. For instance, we were still doing stuff like this, ready to carry out a goddamn massacre.
Yeah, not exactly legit stuff.
But this was supposed to be the last time and I had to believe it really would be.
For Natasha’s sake.
For the sake of my unborn child.
I had to hope for a better life.
Hope, alone, wasn’t enough, though, so I had to do anything I could to make that a reality. Like taking out this motherfucker, Nik Stone.
I just had to hold it together a little while longer and stay on my fucking leash, basically. Then, I could get to dealing with what really mattered. Making a good life for my family.
I swallowed it all down and eyed the unmarked sedan parked in the center of the lot. The only cage in the area. The rest were our bikes all parked off to the far right side. Every window was heavily tinted making it impossible to see inside. Thank fuck, because there was nobody in there. We just needed to buy time.
A ferocious rumble accompanied by the screech of tires cut through the still night, sending a surge of adrenaline through me and jumpstarting me into battle-readiness. I watched as a couple of trucks sped into the parking lot flanked by at least half a dozen bikes.
Nik Stone dismounted his bike and glanced all around taking in his surroundings, trying to feel them out in that creepy-ass way he always did.
Slade reacted quickly, clearly trying to prevent Nik from outing any of us. He stepped out from his concealed position at the rear of the abandoned gas station, and strode out to meet him.
I tensed, my muscles locking, my breath catching, as the Strikers members surrounding Nik reacted, every single one of them pulling their pieces and training them on Slade.
A snicker came from Nik. “Jesus, chill,” he called to his guys, raising his hand behind him and signaling them to stand down. A mere second later all the psychos flipped their safeties into place and holstered their weapons. I caught sight of that cocky fucker, Rick, and for once that normal confidence of his and that sickening swagger was nowhere to be found. He was as freaked and on edge as everybody involved in this shitshow mission. Well, except Slade and Nik. The two of them never showed shit.
“Long time,” Nik spoke to Slade.
Yeah,
