Page 141 of Kneeling to Candy

The space goes still before I hear the voice again. “Now it’s your turn to be trapped.”

Those words...Candy said these things to me right before she fired the gun.

It takes a moment for my new reality to sink in. To my utter horror, I realize I’m entombed.

All common sense pisses out of me. I spin on my heels frantically, holding up my phone in the shoebox space. There’s no way out. No escape. No freedom.

I’m stuck. Either I’ll bleed out, starve, or run out of oxygen—all options leading to certain death.

Wishing for a quick death, I holler into the tiny cavern, hoping the ceiling will fall in and finish me.

It doesn’t budge. Nothing does.

The light on my cell phone goes out. I try to turn it back on, but it seems my battery has died.

Candy’s salacious giggle echoes around the darkness, reminding me of who sentenced me to this fate. I grab at my head, sinking to my knees as I scream.

CHAPTER FIFTY

BUTCH

When the dust settles, Atlas calls the feds to come onto the scene. With the investigation underway, it was going to be a while before we could head home. The amount of dead bodies to tag and the remaining witnesses to interview will keep our federal agent associates busy.

There was no way to obscure the mine collapse, not with the debris field shooting down the lawn toward the back of the estate. Odds were high, O’Conall was dead. Though the prick may be alive, trapped in the rubble. Either way, we didn’t want a search and rescue operation happening.

Chase worked his magic, scrubbing the outdoor surveillance camera footage of the last few hours. Our footprints and whatever blood we left behind in the snow were concealed by the fragments of rocks and other trash blown out from the cave collapsing.

When the federal agents ask if someone went inside the tunnel, we all deny it, claiming the vibrations from the shootout made the ancient mine give out. The feds sent a chopper over the summit to check on the other side of the tunnel. Reports came back, showing the tunnel was completely caved in with debris spilled around the plateau.

My heart did a little Irish jig on O’Conall’s grave.

Enjoy hell, fuckwad.

Looking back on the moment Candy fired my Glock at the support beam, I can’t help shaking my head with a chuckle. We barely made it inside the estate when the mine shaft collapsed. Dust and debris rocketed out of the tunnel’s entrance, hitting the stone estate and shattering some windows.

Candy crowed gleefully, watching the whole thing unfold while waving her middle fingers in the air toward the O’Conall’s demise. “Dig your way out of that, asshole.”

My brothers look at Candy with a mixture of awe and wariness, realizing we have a cut-throat MC woman in our crew, one who seeks vengeance in the most elaborate of ways. Safe to say no one on the crew will try to mess with her.

While Atlas and Gauge handle the paperwork and questions from the agents, the rest of the crew hangs outside the estate in the front yard. None of us wants to stay around the aftermath of the bloodbath inside the mansion. We lived it—no need to linger in the horror of it if we can avoid it.

When the shootout started, I was a little worried Tank’s PTSD would get triggered. He didn’t seem bothered while in the heat of it. And he seems to fare well now as he shoots the shit with Reaper and Brass, reminiscing over the highlights of the mission. Perhaps he’ll do more mercenary assignments in the future.

Eagle and Stage pack up surveillance gear, while Triple unloads weapons of their ammunition. Flay—having already tended to mine and Candy’s injuries—finishes examining Piero’s bodyguard, Enzo. Though his direct shot in his bulletproof vest didn’t break through, Enzo still needs to be checked for possible broken ribs, like myself. Piero’s men hover near his vehicle, where Piero takes some calls inside. Chance and Ziggy are going over some tech data on the tablets, while Punk looks on at the team, almost like he’s taking stock of everyone. He side-eyes me more than once as we wait for the investigation to get wrapped up on the feds’ end. I’m too tired to care what it is about me that has him interested.

All I care about is that we’re safe. It’s a relief to look around our crew and find us all upright and mostly unmarred—all except for me and my wife.

My wife.

My entire world stays glued to my side, her pretty pink-haired head resting on my good shoulder. Candy wears my suit coat and is wrapped with one of many blankets we brought in the cars for the abducted women, knowing they’d need something to stay warm in once we freed them.

Candy huddles closer into my side for warmth and comfort. Her once bare feet are covered in thick wool socks and heavy combat boots that are a good three sizes too big for her feet. There’s no way I’m going to inform her Flay stripped those items off one of the outside guards our team took out. Protecting her feet from further frostbite was the only thing we cared about. We’ll burn the items once we return home, and I’ll scrub her in the shower myself if she’ll allow me, removing any trace of whoever their former owner was.

Pulling her close, I lay a tender kiss on the crown of her head. Candy wraps her arms tightly around me, clinging to me like I might slip away if she doesn’t hang on.

In the middle of the remains of war, this is a slice of heaven. I’m fucking giddy with Candy’s public display of affection and showing her ownership of me. I’m hers, and once we’re home, I’m going to show her how much she’s mine.

The mission is done. The wicked prick is dead. There’s nothing stopping me from revealing our marriage to Candy.

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