Page 41 of Everest

Her eyes blaze. "So, what? I should ignore the fact that a woman is being beaten, and something much worse could have happened to her?"

"I get it, babe. You care. But you're not a goddamn savior. And now, because of your choices, you're stuck to my side until I make damn sure we know who we're dealin' with."

Her lips part, ready to argue more, but I don't give her a chance. "You are gettin' your sweet ass on my bike, and we're goin' to the clubhouse together. End of discussion."

She exhales sharply, her nostrils flaring as we both hold our ground, eyes locked on each other. She can fume all she wants, but she's not winning this one.

Minutes later, we're outside, with the thick humidity of New Orleans pressing in on us.

I throw my leg over the bike and glance at London as she stands, arms crossed, scowling. "Babe." My tone is a warning.

With a look meant to cut like a knife, she steps forward and swings her leg over, gripping my waist.

I smirk. "See? Not so hard."

London mutters something under her breath, but the rumble of my engine drowns it out.

The ride through the city is smooth, the humid air rushing past us as I weave through traffic. London's body molds to mine, her warmth pressing into my back, arms snug around my waist, and her fingers gripping the edges of my cut. And fuck if it doesn't do something to me. It sends a deep, possessive satisfaction through me. And it's not a feeling I'm willing to let go of any time soon.

As we approach the industrial side of the city, the air thickens with the scent of oil and the river. The clubhouse comes into view. The gate opens as we roll up, my brothers' bikes already lined up out front. I park beside Kiwi's ride and cut the engine. London slides off first, adjusting her T-shirt, tossing me a look of pure irritation, and with a sassy sway to her hips, she heads for the door. I shake my head and follow her inside the clubhouse, where Promise is sitting in the common room with Payton and Josie.

"The guys are in the back." Promise's eyes dart between me and her best friend. I smirk, grabbing London by the hand and yanking her into me.

"Kallum—"

I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing whatever smart-ass remark she was about to make. When I pull back, her lips are parted, and her breath is uneven. "Stay put." Before she canargue, I walk away, leaving her with the women watching with amused grins.

As I push through the door into the back room, the others are already waiting. Riggs sits at the head of the table, arms crossed, watching me intently as I find my seat. "How's London holding up?" he inquires.

"She's fired up," I reply.

Riggs laughs. "I bet. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say it's about damn time you two got your heads out of your asses."

I look around the table, noticing everyone nodding in agreement and rubbing the back of my neck. Damn, were we that transparent?

Riggs clears his throat. "Tony caught up with me this morning. He did some digging last night and shared what he knows about the guy who snatched London. We've got a name and an address. His name is Eddie Rollins."

"Where's he hiding?" I ask.

Riggs tosses a slip of paper onto the table, and it circulates among the group. "Rundown neighborhood, gang-controlled. He's got a hold up there," Riggs says, his voice low and tense.

Wick leans in closer, eyes darting around the room. "We need to be vigilant. That area has seen a lot of deaths lately."

"We rollin' out tonight?" Fender asks.

"Our best shot is to move while the sun's high. No way we wanna be caught in the streets once the sun dips unless it’s necessary."

I clench my fists, my blood burning with the need to put hands on the bastard who laid a finger on London.

Riggs' gaze sweeps the table. "We don't take unnecessary risks. We don't get sloppy. We get in, get what we came for, and get the fuck out."

Wick nods. "Gangs have eyes everywhere in that neighborhood. The second we roll in, someone's gonna know. We move quickly. Move smart."

Kiwi exhales through his nose. "We got a set-up for the place?"

Riggs leans back in his chair. "Tony didn't have a full layout, just that it's a one-story shack at the end of the dead-end street. Bars on the windows. No cameras, at least not visible. Place is more of a nest than a home." Riggs then focuses his attention on me. "I want him breathin'. For now."

I grip the table's edge, and Riggs notices my building tension.

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