Page 71 of Chief's Addiction

Now that the immediate danger was past, the pain hit me full force, sharp and throbbing.

“We need to keep moving,” I said through gritted teeth. “They’ll figure out we’re gone and come looking.”

Beckett wrapped an arm around my waist, letting me lean on him as we limped away from the fence. Every step sent fresh agony up my leg, but the alternative of being caught by Spike again kept me moving forward.

The shipyard seemed to go on forever, a maze of containers and warehouses. We kept to the shadows as much as possible. It was slow going with my injured leg, but eventually, we reached what appeared to be the edge of the industrial area.

“Just a little further,” Beckett encouraged.

I nodded, unable to waste breath on words.

Five blocks.

That’s all we managed before my leg threatened to give out completely. The blood loss was making me dizzy, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.

“There,” Beckett said suddenly, pointing ahead. “A gas station.”

There was a service station maybe a hundred yards away.

Thank the Gods.

We needed to find a phone to call for help, and a first aid kit for my leg.

We reached the edge of the parking lot and the glass door of the store swung open. A tall imposing figure wearing a leather cut with a red and white patch stepped out.

“Morpheus,” I breathed, relief flooding through me like a tidal wave.

His head snapped up and his dark eyes widened as they locked on Beck and me. In an instant, he was sprinting toward us, one hand reaching for the gun at his hip.

“Cora! Jesus Christ,” he shouted, his eyes cataloging my injuries.

“Spike took us from the mall,” Beckett rushed to explain, the words tumbling out in a frantic stream. “He had a gun, and they threw us in a kidnapper van, and there were dogs, and explosives, and?—”

“We need to go,” I interrupted, my voice weak from the adrenalin crash. “They’ll come looking for us.”

Morpheus nodded sharply, already putting his phone to his ear. “Chief? I found them. Gas station on Eastport Road.” He paused, listening. “They’re hurt.” His eyes came to me. “Bad. Spike had them.” He looked away. “Copy that.”

Morpheus shoved his phone back in his pocket and turned to me. “Can you walk?”

I tried to nod, but the movement made my head spin. “I—” The words died on my lips as my knees buckled. Morpheus moved fast, sweeping me into his arms.

“I’ve got you, darlin’.” he said reassuringly. “Just hold on. Chief’s on his way.”

The rumble of motorcycles approaching at a fast clip filled the air and in seconds the distant hum was a deafening roar.

Headlights appeared at the end of the street, and then at least a dozen bikes were there. I knew exactly who was on the big black Harley leading the pack.

Tears welled up in my eyes as emotions swirled through me.

Mason had come for me.

His bike barely stopped before he was off his and running toward us, his face a mask of barely controlled fury as he took in my condition.

“Baby.” His voice broke as he took me from Morpheus’ arms.

His scent wrapped around me and I sagged against his chest.

Mason had me. I was safe.

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