Page 118 of Vandal Unbound

She does as I say, and I’m so proud of her.

It takes balls to chase the kind of threat she’s chasing right now. In fact, it takes more than balls. It takes the sort of maternal courage that turns soft women into forces of nature. Daisy got into her car, not knowing she was armed, not knowing that she’d be able to get hold of me.

And is she understandably upset? Sure. But she’s holding on.

My chest squeezes with the pride filling it. Most people would be curled up in a ball right now, waiting for someone else to solve the problem for them. But not my Daisy.

She got into her car and chased the men who stole her child. She kept enough of her head to call me and stay on the phone. And she’s still driving toward danger, even though she knows I’m coming up right behind her to deal with it for her.

The periodic sobs tell me she’s terrified, but she’s doing it anyway.

I look ahead to the SUV and try not to put myself in Elsie’s shoes.

I try not to think about how scared she must be. How she must be calling out for her mom or maybe even me. Fuck, it’s like a stab to the heart to consider she might be wondering why I haven’t gotten to her yet.

I don’t want to imagine what those cunts are doing to her right now. I just need to hold onto the most obvious option, that whoever has her thinks she should be with her father’s side of the family, and pray that, despite the circumstances, they aren’t going to hurt her.

“We’re coming by you now, sweetheart,” I say. “Hug the line so we can get by.”

Knox goes first, heading up the right side of the vehicle. North, Havoc, and Lock follow on the right.

Ridge is the first to go left. I follow behind, but as I go by I hold my cut out and show her the gold star Elsie gave me. Seeing Daisy’s face stained with tears, red blotches around her eyes, breaks my heart. She places her palm up against her window, as if reaching out for me, and I reach out my hand to her. Even though I can’t get too close at this speed, I hope it’s enough.

“Go get her,” she says in my earpiece.

“I will,” I say.

In the last couple of months, my definition of protection has shifted. I thought it was something you did in a moment of crisis. Like a brother needing backup and you show up. Or someone threatened the club, so you stood between them and the peopleyou cared about. I thought it was about fists and guns and a willingness to bleed for one another.

Now I know it’s not just about standing in front of danger. It’s making sure there’s safety every day. It’s about building a life that is sturdy enough that the people you love can rest inside it.

For years I thought being a protector meant being willing to die for someone. But Daisy and Elsie have taught me it’s about learning to live for them. So, nothing can happen to me today.

The SUV suddenly speeds up and pulls away from Daisy. No doubt the driver stopped looking in the rearview mirror, unthreatened by Daisy’s car. But now he sees the bikes heading his way.

Knox gives the signal for us all to speed up. It’s a practiced drill we’ve done a million times. The gap between us begins to shrink. Half a mile. Quarter mile.

We fall back into formation, but I notice that the tail gunner, Sunny, has stayed behind Daisy’s vehicle.

I hadn’t even considered a second vehicle coming up behind her, but I’m glad my brother did when it mattered.

The SUV swerves slightly. Not enough for it to lose control, but enough to tell me there’s nervousness or panic.

Good.

Let them feel a fraction of what Daisy felt on that road, or what Elsie is feeling in the back seat. The windows are heavily tinted, and I hate that I can’t see a damn thing inside.

“Almost there, baby girl,” I mutter to myself.

A window opens on the right, and I see the gun before I hear the first shot. It pings off the front of Knox’s bike. “Motherfuckers,” he shouts as he swerves right then left.

A second shot goes wide, missing us completely.

“Daisy, pull back a little. Don’t slam on your breaks, though. Sunny is behind you.”

“Oh, God. Stay safe, Van.”

The window on the other side of the vehicle must open, because I hear a shot, but it’s not from the weapon I’m looking at.