Page 34 of Goose's Wren

The doors open and men in dark suits step out first.Each of them carrying weapons they don’t bother to hide.Sidearms with silencers strapped to thighs.

These are professional, cold blooded killers.They almost remind me of Fiona’s husband, Baratta.

Goose mutters a curse under his breath.

Then the back door of the lead car opens, and a man steps out slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world.

He’s not like the others.He’s polished.Well dressed in a black tailored suit.Every strand of hair in place, not a wrinkle or speck of dust on his shiny Italian shoes.A smirk curls his lips as he surveys the scene, hands clasped casually behind his back.

And his eyes land on me.

I start to shake.

“No,” I whisper.“No, no, no...”

I remember now.

What Tim said.

“They’ll be here soon.You think you can just leave?Nah, baby.I got buyers.”

My knees nearly give out.These men, this man, he’s one of them.One of the buyers.They weren’t just words.They weren’t empty threats.He was going to sell me.

Goose catches my arm, steadying me, his jaw clenched tight.The rest of the club is suddenly there, pouring out from behind the trailer like a silent wave.They fan out around us, each one stone-faced, armed and ready.

Timber steps up beside us, expression dark as thunderclouds.His voice is low, lethal.

“You’re trespassing.”

The well-dressed man stops ten feet away, raising an eyebrow.“I was told my product would be here.As well as something a little extra.”

Goose lunges forward before I can react, but Timber’s hand shoots out, catching him mid-step.“Not yet,” he growls under his breath.

The stranger doesn’t flinch.He just smiles wider, eyes flicking to me again.“My associate promised she was prepped and ready.I paid for quality.”

The ground shifts beneath me.The blood drains from my face.

Goose is going to kill him.

And honestly?

I hope he does.

Goose

My fists are already clenched so tight I can feel my nails biting into my palms.One wrong move, just one, and I’ll end that smug bastard where he stands.I don’t care how many guns he’s got behind him.I’ll die standing if it means keeping Wren safe from what he came here to do.

But then I glance at Timber.

Our Prez doesn’t move right away.He’s standing like stone, arms folded, eyes locked on the guy like he’s running every possible outcome through his head.He’s trying to keep things from blowing up.We were not expecting this turn of events.But the fire’s right there in his eyes, just under the surface.

Finally, he speaks.His voice calm, cold and deadly.

“We found your shit,” Timber says, voice like steel.“Stashed in the trailer.If you’re here for the drugs, you’re welcome to take ‘em.But the girl?”He tips his chin toward Wren, standing behind me, trying to stay upright.“She ain’t going anywhere with you.She’s an old lady in the Wolfsbane MC.Protected.”

The man’s eyes cut to Wren again, and I feel her flinch behind me.He doesn’t leer, doesn’t smile.He just measures her, like she’s some goddamn piece of property.

I nearly lose it.Timber shoots me a warning glance without even turning his head.

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