-Hadley-
55 vouchers
The sun hadn’t even fully risen when I heard the rumble of engines outside the clubhouse. It wasn’t the familiar roar of motorcycles. This was different… lower.
I was still groggy from the whiskey haze of the night before, but the sound snapped me awake like a bucket of cold water.
Logan was already at the window, his body tense as he peered through the blinds. He had his phone pressed to his ear.
“Shit,” he muttered, “Alright.” He hung up the phone and turned to me. “Becker’s here.”
I scrambled out of bed, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Here? Now?”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling on his jeans and reaching for his cut. “And he’s not alone.”
I grabbed one of Logan’s hoodies and tugged it on, then stepped clumsily into leggings and boots as I followed him downstairs.
The clubhouse was already buzzing. The Warriors, though hungover and groggy, were scrambling into action. Jake was barking orders, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Monty was at the door with his fists clenched, staring out at the scene unfolding in the parking lot.
I moved closer to the window, and my stomach twisted as I saw Becker’s black sedan parked in the middle of the lot. It was flanked by two patrol cars and a blacked–out police van.
Becker stood in front of it all, arms crossed, face a mask of fury. Behind him were a handful of cops, their hands resting on their holsters like they were just waiting for an excuse to shoot someone.
“Here we go,” Logan said next to me.
“What does he-?” I started, turning to look at him.
I was interrupted by the front door slamming open. Becker stepped inside, flanked by four officers. The room went dead silent, everyone frozen in place.
Becker’s eyes scanned the room, landing on me like a predator spotting its prey.
“Hailey Conway,” he said, his voice icy. “You’re under arrest.”
Logan stepped in front of me, blocking Becker’s path. “The hell she is.”
Becker smirked, his eyes glinting with malice. “Stand down, Nash. Unless you want to join her in cuffs.”
My heart was pounding so loud I could barely think, but I forced myself to step forward. “On what charges?”
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Chapter 52
Becker’s smirk grew wider. “You’ve been interfering with my investigation, and I’m done playing games. I’m anesting you for obstruction of justice. Conspiracy. Take your pick. But also, for the murder of Matthew O’Connor.”
“Bullshit.” Logan growled, his fists clenched as he seethed. “Where’s your warrant? What judge would sign off on that?”
Becker laughed, sharp and humorless. “Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re out of moves, Nash. And now, I’m taking your girl.”
The room erupted with movement.
Warriors inched forward, their faces twisted with rage. The cops behind Becker drew their guns, but the Warriors didn’t back down. Monty was at the front, his eyes blazing as he took another step toward Becker.
“You think you can just walk in here and take her?” Monty snarled. “You got another thing coming.”
Becker’s smirk faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. “Fair enough. Then you’re all under arrest for obstruction of justice. Every last one of you.”
“Like hell,” Logan said. He stepped forward, his body coiled like a spring. “You’re not taking her.”
Becker’s eyes flicked to Logan, then back to me. “You really want to test me, Nash? Because I’ll bury you.”
“Like I said,” Logan murmured, glancing up to the corner of the room and taking another step toward him with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Show us the warrant… or get the fuck out.”
Becker frowned, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t reach for a warrant. Instead, his hand twitched briefly toward the holster on his hip.
The tension in the room was suffocating. The air was thick with the promise of violence. I could feel it building, like a storm about to break.
And then it did.
Monty lunged first, his fist connecting with Becker’s jaw with a sickening crack. Becker stumbled back, his face twisted in rage. Before he could recover, Logan was on him, tackling him to the floor.
Chaos ensued. The cops moved in with their guns trained on Logan, trying to break up the fight. But the Warriors weren’t having it. Fists flew, bodies crashed through tables, and the sound of shouting filled the air.
I stumbled back, trying to stay out of the way, but Becker’s eyes locked on me, and I knew I wasn’t safe.
He shoved Logan off him, scrambling to his feet, and lunged toward me. I tried to duck behind the bar, but I wasn’t fast enough. His hand was slimy with sweat, closing around my wrist like a vice and yanking me back toward him.
“You’re coming with me,” he snarled, his breath hot against my face. It smelled like coffee, sharp and bitter.
Before I could react, Logan was there, grabbing Becker’s arm and twisting it hard enough to make him let go. Becker roared in pain, swinging blindly, but Logan ducked under the punch and drove his fist into Becker’s
WANY WON, DEE AT
Chapter 42
stomach
4:1
Breker doubled over, gasping for air, but he wasn’t done. He straightened up his eyes wild, and finally pulled his gun from his holster He pointed it directly at Logan.
“Enough” Becker shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Everyone back the hell up or I’ll shoot!”
The room froze. The Warriors stopped mid–fight, their eyes locked on Becker’s gun. Logan stood perfectly still with his hands raised, but his eyes burned with fury.
“You’re done, Becker,” Logan said. His voice was steady despite the gun pointed at his chest. “You got nothing. Just go. It’s over.”
Becker chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “It’s over when I say it’s over. And right now, you’re all under
arrest.”
“Not happening,” Jake said, stepping forward. His voice was calm as ever, but there was steel in it. “You’re outta your depth, Becker. Lower the gun.”
Becker’s eyes flicked to Jake, but his gun stayed pointed at Logan.
“If you hurt one of my boys, Becker,” Jake continued icily. “You won’t walk outta here. I can promise you that.”
Becker glanced at Jake again, and it looked like he might lower his gun. But then I watched his finger twitch over the trigger.
I stepped between Logan and Becker without thinking. My body moved before my brain could catch up. My pulse was hammering in my ears.
I heard Logan behind me, low and urgent. “Jesus, Hailey, get out of the way.”
Becker’s gun dipped for a second, his eyes widening in surprise. But then his face twisted, his jaw flexing as he squared his shoulders. The barrel swung back up, and this time it was pointed straight at me.
“You wanna play hero?” Becker sneered, his finger hovering over the trigger. “I don’t want to shoot you, Hailey. But I will. You won’t be so brave when you’re bleeding out on the floor.”
Logan’s voice cracked behind me again, raw and desperate. “Hailey, move! What the fuck!”
But I couldn’t. My legs felt like they were rooted to the floor. Becker’s eyes locked on mine, and I knew he wasn’t bluffing.
The clubhouse door slammed open again behind him, the sound echoing through the room. Becker flinched, his gaze flicking toward the noise for just a split second.
In that second, his finger tightened on the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening.
Pain exploded in my left shoulder, white–hot and blinding. I stumbled back, my vision blurring. My legs gave out. I crumpled to the floor. The room spun, voices shouting, footsteps thundering around me.
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Chapter 32
I tried to focus, but the pain was too much. The edges of my vision went staticky and dark, creeping inward like a curtain closing.
“Hailey!” I heard Logan’s voice, distant and muffled like he was shouting through water.
Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor, cradling me. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart against mine, his breath hot against my cheek.
“That was so fucking stupid, Ace. You better stay with me.” His voice broke. “Don’t you dare fucking leave me.”
I wanted to respond, to tell him I was okay, but the words wouldn’t come. My eyelids felt too heavy to keep
open.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was a woman with silver hair putting handcuffs on Becker.
Then there was nothing.
AD
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
