Page 73 of Chief's Addiction

Something in my tone must have conveyed exactly what kind of ‘business’ I meant, because his eyes widened fractionally before his expression hardened. “Make him pay,” he said quietly.

“Count on it,” I promised, watching as he climbed into the passenger seat of Rage’s truck.

I stood there until the taillights disappeared around the corner, the rage I’d been containing threatening to boil over now that Cora and Beckett were safely on their way to the clubhouse.

Turning back to my brothers, I felt my face shift into something cold and deadly.

“I want that motherfucker alive,” I growled.

Morpheus nodded, his expression grim. “Beckett told us where Spike took them. Warehouse on the east docks. The kid said it was full of crates marked ‘explosives’.”

My jaw clenched. Explosives? What the fuck had that tweaker piece of shit gotten himself involved in?

“Lead the way,” I said, already striding toward my bike.

We mounted up, the roar of seven Harleys shattering the quiet night as we took off down the street. The wind whipped past my face, but I barely felt it. All I could focus on was the image of Cora’s battered body and the promise of what I was going to do to the man responsible.

We’d barely gone a few blocks when headlights appeared behind us. The club van pulled up alongside us and I saw Cueball behind the wheel and Lid in the passenger seat.

Swallowing the fury building inside me, I twisted the throttle and flew past them. I couldn’t look at them right now. Not when what I wanted to do was pull my gun and put them down for failing my woman.

Another two blocks and I pulled to a stop behind Morph. The van once again came up beside me and I could feel my blood pressure spiking at the sight of the two prospects who’d fucked everything up. They had one job. One goddamn job and they failed miserably.

The van pulled up beside us, and both prospects scrambled out, their faces pale with fear and guilt.

“Chief, we’re so sorry—” Cueball started, tripping over his word in a rush to apologize.

“She asked us to get the kid some shoes and—” Lid chimed in at the same time.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it,” I snapped, cutting them both off with a glare that had them snapping their mouths shut like they’d been slapped.

They were in deep shit and they knew it. If they’d followed orders, if they’d kept their fucking eyes on Cora and Beckett like they were supposed to, none of this would’ve happened. But punishment would have to wait. Right now, I had a more pressing target for my rage.

Morpheus moved to stand beside me, recognizing that I was two seconds away from doing something I might regret. “Lid, Cueball, stay put. We’ll call when we need the van brought in.”

Both prospects nodded, looking like they’d rather face a firing squad than my wrath when this was all over.

Killer dismounted, pulling bolt cutters from his saddlebag without a word. With a single, powerful squeeze, the lock fell away, and he handed the bolt cutters to Havoc before stepping back.

A tall chain-link fence surrounded the property, topped with razor wire. Through the fence, I could make out a familiar white panel van parked near a loading dock.

“That’s the van from the mall security footage,” Morpheus confirmed, his voice low.

Dread shoved the gate open, the hinges protesting with a rusty squeal that seemed too loud in the quiet night.

We moved through the darkness like shadows, bikes left outside to keep the element of surprise. As we approached the warehouse, angry voices carried through the air.

“...fucking bitch! How the hell did she get out?” The voice was high-pitched, agitated. Spike.

I gripped my gun tighter, fantasizing about putting a bullet through his skull. But no. That would be too quick, too merciful.

Morpheus signaled with his hand, directing Killer and Havoc to circle around the back of the building, while Dread and Reign covered the side entrance. That left Morph and me to take the front.

“Ready?” he mouthed.

I nodded, chambering a round.

We approached the front entrance, moving silently despite the overwhelming urge to kick the door down and start shooting. Morpheus pressed his back to the wall beside the door, nodding at me to take the other side.

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