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Em scooted closer to me, lifting her free arm to wrap it around my neck. I leaned against her, taking comfort from the fact that at least we weren’t alone. The swelling in my tongue had gone down, too, which was a relief.

“We need to get ourselves out of this,” she told me. “Like I said—Toke’s AWOL. After he cut me, there’s nothing he could have done to make things right with dad. If they could find Toke, they would’ve by now.”

“How should we do it?” I muttered around the last of the ice.

“We should wait until there’s just one guy here,” she said. “Sooner or later, they’ll have to go get groceries or something. That’s when we’ll move. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I think attacking is too dangerous, unless you’ve got some sort of secret ninja skills I don’t know about. Great job with the whole spitting blood thing, by the way. I’m impressed.”

“We all have to do our part,” I said, feeling pleased with myself. “You’re not half bad as a pickpocket.”

“Had to pay for college somehow,” she replied piously. “I don’t believe in student loans.”

“You’re a nutjob.”

“Probably,” she said, mustering a grin. “But everything I have, I own free and clear.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I said. “Couldn’t get a credit card to save my life. Apparently unemployed single moms are a bad risk.”

“Speaking of, I have Hunter’s now,” she said, grinning. “I lifted his wallet while you were talking on the phone with Ruger. No idea if it’ll be useful, but it’s better than nothing.”

I sobered.

“Okay, first thing—you need to stop picking his pocket,” I told her. “He’s gonna figure it out. He almost did when you got the knife.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that one,” she said, sighing. “So here’s my thought. I want to split up. More chance that one of us will get away and bring help. We wait until one of the guys leaves, then I’ll go out the front of the house and you’ll go out the back. Whoever’s left can’t chase us both. Hell, maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t even notice us leaving.”

“What if Hunter and Skid aren’t the only guys here?”

“Well, then I guess they’ll probably catch us again,” she said seriously. “It’s a risk, because they’ll punish us. This isn’t a game. But we can’t just sit here and hope this all works out—realistically, it’s not gonna be easy for the club to find us.”

“I thought you said Hunter wouldn’t hurt you?” I asked.

“I don’t think he will,” she said. “But Skid’s different. Dad will find us sooner or later, but I’d just as soon we’re alive when it happens. I don’t want to get dumped in a ditch somewhere just because Toke’s an idiot.”

My breath caught.

“I don’t want to get dumped in a ditch, either.”

“So we just won’t get caught,” she told me, offering a grin. “Should be easy, right?”

“Did I mention you’re a nutjob?”

“I get it from my dad.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RUGER

“I wish I had more to tell you,” Kimber said. She looked like a raccoon, her eyes completely surrounded by tear-streaked, black makeup. She sat at a table in the Armory, obviously exhausted from her long night. Ruger still couldn’t quite believe he’d actually fucked this woman. On purpose.

Sure, she had a great body, but compared to Sophie she was nothing. Not even on his dick’s radar.

“You did the best you could,” Horse said. It’d taken them a while to find Kimber because she’d gone on a rampage looking for Sophie and Em. When they’d finally caught up to her, she’d been holding four men hostage in the corner of Mick’s bar with a canister of pepper spray in one hand and her phone in the other. She’d been filming them, demanding that they tell her everything they knew “for the record.”

Thank fuck she didn’t have a gun with her.

“I tried,” she said. “I never should’ve let her go in by herself. The whole thing was a terrible idea. You’ll never know how sorry I am. I hope you can believe that.”

Picnic grunted, obviously unimpressed, but he managed to keep his mouth shut.

“It’s good you weren’t with her,” Bam Bam said, his voice soothing. “If you were, we’d have three hostages instead of two. Not only that, you’re not one of us, so they might consider you dead weight. This is better.”

“You gonna be okay watching Noah until we get this fixed?” Ruger asked abruptly.

“Yes,” she said, looking up and meeting his gaze. “I’ll take care of him like he’s my own. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Okay,” he told her. “I’ll come over and see him if I can. I’m not going to let myself get distracted from finding Sophie, though. You need a gun?”

“Oh, I’ve got a gun,” she replied, her voice dark.

“I’ll walk you out,” Painter said, his expression cold. Something in him had changed, Ruger realized. He’d always been a good man, but he wore a new sense of purpose this morning. Maybe this would motivate him to pull his shit together. He’d always assumed Painter and Em would end up together. Clearly she’d gotten tired of waiting. Fucking Internet dating … might as well paint a bright red target on her head.

Ruger was seeing things pretty clearly this morning himself. He needed Sophie back, safe and sound. Needed her more than his own life. He didn’t give a flying fuck about any other woman. If he’d pulled his head out of his ass earlier, this wouldn’t have happened, because she’d have been safe at home with him, in his bed.

Once he got her back, he’d never let her go again.

Never.

She wanted commitment? He’d tattoo her fucking name on his forehead if he had to. Whatever it took to keep her safe.

“Any news from the boys in Portland?” Duck asked.

“Not so far,” Picnic replied. “They think Toke might have the Jack—goes by Clutch—out to the coast. They’re looking for him, but don’t exactly have a lot of leads.”

“How’s the one he shot?”

“Critical but stable, whatever the fuck that means,” Pic said. “Guess that’s something to be thankful for. Okay, let’s get going on this. We got two hours before our meet with Hunter. Thoughts?”

“Let me handle this one,” Duck said, crossing his arms. “You’re too involved, and that means your brain won’t be working. You and Ruger should stay here.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Picnic said, shaking his head. “I’m the president. This is my job.”

“You’re a father and you’re running on fumes,” Duck replied. “You do this and fuck it up, your girl dies. You really believe you can look this fuckwad in the eye and play nice? ’Cause I don’t think you can. Be smart and let me handle it. You don’t want me, have Horse do it, or Bam Bam. We’re your brothers for a reason. We’ve got your back.”

Picnic shook his head again, face tense. He’d started methodically loading spare magazines for his new gun, which he’d been test-firing earlier. Ruger knew he planned to kill Hunter with that same gun, because they’d spent close to an hour together, carefully choosing just the right weapon to do it.

Something untraceable, with a small enough caliber to do slow, steady damage for a long, long time without ending the bastard’s life too quickly.

“Ruger, you need to stay back, too,” Horse said. Ruger glanced up at him and shook his head.

“Nope,” he said. “I’m going. Nonnegotiable. I don’t need to be lead, but I’ll be there.”

Horse and Duck exchanged looks.

“Okay, new plan,” Duck said. “I’ll be lead, you guys come along but keep back. We can’t let him fuck with you—he gets you worked up, you do something stupid, he wins. Got me?”