Page 8 of The Riders’ Reign

I fight another wave of dizziness, still trying to process the events that brought me to this moment.

Shots. There were gunshots. They fired at us. They hit some of us… Jack.

Oh, fuck, these assholes shot Jack.

Heart hammering, I glance around. It’s slightly darker here than in the full glare of daylight outside. The man who had his gun on me in the car is on the other side of the vehicle. The driver and the passenger seem to be discussing something, one of them pointing toward the nearest plane. The assholes have left me with just one guy by me, and his fingers are wrapped around my wrists, no weapon in sight. They’ve clearly underestimated who they’re dealing with.

Not even thinking, reacting on pure adrenaline and fight-or-flight instinct, I slam my elbow hard into the soft gut of the man holding me.

He grunts and doubles over, letting me go.

The zip tie snaps easily as I bring my knee up right between my wrists.

Two of the men rush at me from around the vehicle. I slam my fist into the face of the driver, and he goes down with a satisfying groan of pain. The second has his gun raised, but he makes the mistake of glancing back to the man who told me not to puke in his car, and I shoulder slam him, knocking the gun out of his hold. It goes skittering across the hard floor, and I bring my knee up, connecting with satisfying force to the bastard’s groin.

“Ooooomph.” He folds like a cheap suit and falls to the ground.

Two more men grab me from behind. Where the fuck did they come from? There were only four in the car with me, and one of those is still standing to one side, watching, that smirk still in place.

I struggle, trying to break free.

“Christ, he’s strong,” one of them huffs.

“My friend, I suggest you stop fighting,” the man with the strange smile says. “I have more men here. I also have a gun, but I really don’t want to shoot you. You’re not here for that. I just want my son back.”

His son?

It all clicks into place. The accent. The hit on us… Ledger. Oh, fuck, this is Ledger’s father.

As the fog clears more from my mind, I wrestle back control of my baser instinct to fight.

Two more men approach from around one of the private jets. One is holding a gun aimed right at me. So, with Ledger’s father, I count eight in total.

If I’m dead, I’m no use to anyone. I need to find out what they want. My training starts to kick in and I grow still.

“That’s better,” one of the guys holding me says.

“Your son?” I look at the man who is in charge.

Why is he still smirking? If he’s Ledger’s father, I’d think he’d take this more seriously.

“I’m Hector Sanchez, and I want my idiot son back. Word is that your MC has taken him. I’m willing to make a trade.”

More vehicles approach the hangar and park close by. As the men get out, three from one, two from another, one of them approaches Hector, his head down, his shoulders slumped. So, thirteen in total now, I note. He speaks in Spanish, and I can’t follow what he’s saying. I do have a basic understanding of the language, enough to ask where places are, and for a beer, but he’s speaking fast. He’s stressed and scared, his body language that of a whipped dog.

Hector shakes his head, takes a gun out from his waistband, tucked under his shirt, and shoots the man in the head.

I can’t help myself; I jump at the sound and the sudden violence.

Fuck me, that’s cold. If this man is willing to shoot one of his own like that, he truly is a ruthless motherfucker, and my chances of getting out of this alive just diminished rapidly.

The man drops to the ground, his muscle tone gone in an instant.

So only twelve, I think ruefully.

“This is the man who shot your president.” Hector looks down at the body as if he’s a pile of shit. “That was not supposed to happen. The last word I got is that your president is still alive.”

These fuckers shot Jack and they think we’ll make a deal? Except, I would, if we had Ledger. Despite that, all I can think of right now is Camile. A solid rock lodges in my chest with the fear that Jack might die, but the idea of these men going after the club when it’s in disarray and getting their hands on Camile is more than I can bear.