Page 119 of One Night with the Biker

For now, I’d kill as many assholes as possible, then blow this bitch to smithereens.

If I wasn’t out of my mind with fucking worry over Ainsley, I might be concerned about Roman. He was a goddamn lunatic, plain and simple, who didn’t seem to fear a thing. Fear, while a hindrance in some situations, is ultimately meant to keep you alive. It’s your instinct’s way of warning you that something is wrong and your fucking life may be in danger. An absence of fear, therefore, made you a loose cannon with no regard for life, yours or anyone else’s.

A fucking fitting description for Roman fucking Mac. The only person he gave two shits about was Ainsley. His love for his sister drove him to plan the slaughter of his own club brothers and risk his life trying to retrieve her.

Even if it was only her corpse.

The thought of Ainsley dead nearly sent me into a frenzy, filling me with unmatched sorrow and grief. Unlike Roman, I couldn’t psych myself up. Once again, I noted that I had nothing to compare to Ainsley’s loss. Not my family’s or Trinity’s. There had been a wall between Trinity and me. Deep down, I knew we weren’t meant to be, and myinstinctprevented me from lowering my guard. Just as I’d done with Ainsley, except this time, she was carrying my child and it was my fear of intimacy that created the wall. I hadn’t wanted to face losing her as I had my mother, father, brother, and sister. I hadn’t wanted to truly commit myself as her man and the father of her child because I was a coward.

Now, I might never get the chance to be the man she deserved or the dad my father had been. If she wasn’t alive, then neither was our baby.

I felt sick, terrified, and so goddamn regretful, it physically pained me.

“Let’s move!” Razor’s voice broke into my thoughts. “The gate’s open.”

I forced myself back into the moment, barely able to wait until Louisiana twirled his hand in the air and gave the signal to ride.

He’d threatened to handcuff Jinx to the bed, but Razor intervened by threatening her father. He’d secured her agreement that she’d return to work at the bar.Or else.

Loyalty to our club and the brothers came above everything for Razor. Louisiana wanted Jinx and that was all that mattered.

We blazed onto the Bloody Scorpions’ grounds, kicking up dust and rocks. The scent of exhaust fumes and motor oil were like a drug to me. I was amongst the first to dismount. I turned, just in time to see Louisiana roll over one of the fuckheads Tio had brought down with a headshot.

He rode to me as my brothers dismounted and began rushing into the clubhouse. “I’m getting the van and bringing it onto the grounds so we can transport Ainsley once we find her.” He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he sped away, heading toward the gate, then circling around the perimeter as if I couldn’t see.

I suspected he was going rogue and off script to kill some Bloody Scorpions before their motherfucking clubhouse was blown off the face of the goddamn Earth. Risky fucking move, but one I couldn’t care about right now. My only concern was Ainsley.

Bolt shoved me and shot some fuckhead who appeared from nowhere, the sound of the gunfire forcing me to focus. If he hadn’t been there, I might’ve got my head blown the hell off.

“Pay attention, boy,” he barked.

I swallowed and nodded, reminding myself what was at stake. “Sorry,” I mumbled, that near-fatal mistake making me feel like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize, just keep your head in the game,” Bolt ordered. “Stick to the fucking plan! Let’s go.”

Two minutes after we headed deeper onto the club’s property, we ran across another fuckhead, and I slammed my pistol against his temple. Time was of the essence, but I needed to get some of my aggression out.

“Fuck!” he hollered, the force of my blow dropping the motherfucker to the ground.

Before he had another chance to react, I shot him. Bolt didn’t say a thing, understanding how I felt and seeing all Bloody Scorpions as the enemy. We started off again, moving toward where we suspected she was being held captive.

We had a rough idea of her location. Thanks to Easton, we’d been able to tap into the Bloody Scorpions’ CCTV. Their security measures were laughable. Cameras were only located in a few select areas, none of which contained Ainsley. The clubhouse was ruled out entirely. Her most likely location—if she hadn’t been disposed of—was the small trailer park on the back side of the property. Only the front of the club had cameras, so we couldn’t confirm our guess. The grounds of the Bloody Scorpions’ club were compact and square, nowhere as big as the Royal Bastards’. There were only so many places she could be, so sooner or later, we’d stumble across her.

The trailers were in sight. We were getting closer to Ainsley, to saving her from the torment she must’ve endured. We just had to stay alive to do so.

The screams and gunshots echoing from the clubhouse assured me Roman and his allies were doing their part just fine. Failing to do my part would let them down and put our lives at risk.

More fuckers spilled out from the side and back entrances, too pussy to fight back. Bullets were punishment for their cowardice. Bolt and I mowed them down before they had a chance to pull their weapons. None of them was Boom Boom. Their Prez had left them to hang, and now, he was hiding like a pussy.

After I completed Ainsley’s extraction, I’d hunt that motherfucker down and give him special treatment. Our chapter didn’t breach many enemy clubs, but I kept my Glock 17 with extended magazine for any tense situation. Couldn’t run out of fucking bullets in the middle of a fire fight.

Killing Scorpions was second-nature to me, a knee-jerk reaction I didn’t think about. However, as we neared the trailers, I realized that reaction would make our job harder. I needed one of them to talk and point me in the right direction. So, when a young, lanky motherfucker stumbled in the same direction we were heading, his shoulder oozing blood, I pistol whipped him. But this time, when he dropped to his knees, I didn’t shoot, though he held a gun in each hand.

“Drop your weapons,” I ordered, ignoring Bolt’s confused look.

The kid was no older than twenty-five and scrambled to obey.

I waved my gun at his hands and he popped them into the air.

---