I’d been stupid.
And now, lying here under the night sky with Dragon Fire’s warning burning as bright as the flames, I wasn’t sure if anyone would get to me in time.
I’D BEEN STAYINGoff the main roads, trying toavoid the Dragon Fire assholes, my headlights cutting through the thick, inky blackness of the back roads, when the orange glow lit up the horizon.
My gut twisted.
Out here, in the middle of nowhere, I thought it was safe, but that kind of glow was a fire, no doubt.
But since there wasn’t anything out here but dirt and trees, it could only be one thing, a car.
I pressed my foot harder on the gas, the tires kicking up dust as I followed the narrow, winding road. When I rounded the bend and saw the wreckage, my breath caught in my throat.
A motorcycle was engulfed in flames, its once-pristine chrome now a twisted, burning heap. Beside it, lying motionless on the ground, was Spinner.
“Shit,” I muttered, slamming the car into park and throwing myself out the door.
The heat from the fire hit me as I sprinted toward him, my heart pounding. He was on his back, his leather cut scorched along the edges. His face was bloodied, and his breathing was shallow, but he was alive.
“Spinner,” I said, dropping to my knees beside him. His eyes flickered open, just barely, and I caught a glimpse of recognition before they slid shut again.
“Hey, stay with me,” I said, shaking his shoulder gently. “I’ve got you.”
I scanned the area, my pulse racing. Whoever had done this was long gone, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was responsible. Dragon Fire MC. Their calling card was the wreckage they left behind.
The fire crackled louder, the heat growing unbearable. I hooked my arms under Spinner’s shoulders and started dragging him away from the flames. He groaned, his body heavy and uncooperative, but I didn’t stop.
“You’re not checking out on me,” I muttered, more to myself than him. “Not while I’ve got a say in it.”
Once we were far enough from the burning bike, I lowered him to the ground, wiping sweat from my brow. My hands shook as I pulled the phone from his pocket and scrolled to the number I needed: The Devil’s House MC.
The line rang twice before someone picked up.
“Yeah,” a deep, commanding voice answered.
“Something’s happened,” I said, my voice calm despite the adrenaline coursing through me. “I found Spinner. He’s been attacked. His bike’s on fire, and he’s hurt.”
There was a pause, then a low growl. “Where are you?”
I rattled off the location, glancing down at Spinner as I spoke. His breathing was ragged, his face pale under the blood and dirt.
“Stay there,” the man said. “We’re on our way.”
The line went dead, and I shoved the phone back into his pocket.
I crouched beside Spinner, brushing a strand of hair from his face. His eyelids fluttered, and he let out a weak cough.
“Lucy?” he rasped, his voice barely audible.
“Yeah,” I said, leaning closer. “It’s me. You’re gonna be okay.”
He tried to say something else, but it came out as a garbled mess. I pressed a hand to his chest, wanting him to stay still.
“You don’t need to talk,” I said softly. “Just breathe and stay calm.”
The distant rumble of engines cut through the night, growing louder by the second. Relief flooded me as the headlights of multiple bikes pierced the darkness, followed closely by a van.
The Devil’s House MC arrived in force, their faces grim as they took in the scene, and I used that as an opportunity to slip into the darkness, heading for my car.