Page 116 of Ride or Die

My stomach drops. “What happened?”

“Butch’s fellas picked up some asshole.”

Everything around me seems to go quiet. The whir of the truck. The breeze. The cattle lowing. All of it fades into the background. I jump down from the bed, my boots hitting the dirt hard, and I step away, pulse hammering.

“Whatasshole?” I ask, gripping the phone tighter.

There’s a long pause.

“An asshole with a Brothers of Mayhem tattoo covering his back.”

The words hit me like a punch and my heart slams violently against my ribs. I don’t even realize I’m moving until I hear Wyatt’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Cole?”

“I’m on my fuckin’ way,” I grit out, ending the call.

Turning, I find Wyatt and Brady staring at me, their brows bunched with matching looks of concern.

“Everythin’ okay?” Brady asks, hoping out of the truck.

I shove my phone into my pocket. “I gotta go.”

Wyatt steps forward. “Go where?”

Shaking my head, I dismiss his question. He doesn’t need to know. He can’t know. I ain’t about to let anyone else get involved in this fuckin’ mess.

“Let me take Colonel back.” I nod my head to Wyatt’s horse.

Wyatt cocks his head to the side, frustration masking his face. “Cole, what the fuck is goin’ on?”

“Nothin’, I just—” I remove my hat, shoving a hand through my hair with a huff. “I gotta go!”

Wyatt’s expression hardens, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods to his horse.

Without a second thought, I run for Colonel, heaving myself up into the saddle and grabbing the reins. And with a curt squeeze of his belly, the horse kicks into gear, the ranch flying by in a blur as I make it back to the yard in record time.

Jagger and Levi are standing by the stables, heads turned my way as Colonel thunders toward them. The horse has barely come to a stop before I’m jumping down from the saddle.

“Get him watered, will ya?” I jut my chin at Levi.

“You good?” he throws back, brows knitted together.

I wave a hand, hurrying for my truck which is when I notice fucking Wyatt’s Dodge parked right behind me, blocking me in.

“Fuck!” I shout, looking around for what, I don’t know.

“Cole?”

I turn to find Jagger approach tentatively, almost like he’s approaching a cagey, unpredictable mustang.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Can I use your truck?”

Jagger looks me up and down, brow furrowing.

“I need to get… somewhere,” I mutter.