Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) (24 page)

“Not this time. It’s bigger, Princess. What we did yesterday was equivalent to gas station robberies.”

Fear slammed into her. If he left her here and something happened to him…

She grabbed his arm and stared into his eyes. “I won’t be left behind. I’m going.”

His muscle leaped under her fingers, but he didn’t shake her off. A good sign.

She crowded closer, pressing her body to his. Something dark shifted in his eyes, and she jumped on it. “We’re a good team. I can help.”

He made a sharp movement, and she winced. “Goddammit, Delta.” His words were a low oath as he wrapped an arm around her and bundled her out of the public eye, back to the room they shared.

That tick in his jaw couldn’t be good. Probably like the bomb he was building.

“I will never raise a hand to you. Ever!”

She swallowed. Nodded. “I hate that part of myself. I don’t like reacting as if everyone will hurt me.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, rippling the lines of the cross tattoo she loved so much. “You’ve never said anything like that before.”

“I feel…stronger.”

The lights jumped back into his eyes, and his soldier-mode was switched off. He slid his hands under her hair to cup her face. His minty breath washed over her. “You
are
strong.”

“Stronger with you.”

He shook his head and stepped back. “No. I’m no good for you. This…what we have going on…I’m keeping you safe until we can handle the Raiders.”

Each word was a small pin in her heart. Drawing a deep breath, she stood taller. “You’re right. What we have is geography.”

His brows lowered. “Geography? What the hell does that mean?”

“We were thrown together. You were there, I was there. If another Son had put me on the back of his bike, I’d be with him—”

He snagged her around the waist and hauled her against his body so she felt every hard, angry inch. “Like. Hell.”

Her body reacted to his nearness, pulsating with want. She clenched her thighs together to hold onto it. Drake made her feel so damn good, but she’d learn to stand on her own. She’d go to Ever and build a life. Drake would be someone she saw around the club.

“This thing we have, you wouldn’t have with another Son,” he grated out.

No, she wouldn’t. In the days they’d spent together, she’d begun to know him. She was able to read his moods, knew how to provoke him out of his soldier mode, and even when he needed a drop of alcohol. She knew how his eyes looked while he was still settled deep in her body. And his fierceness while he’d wired her to go into the backroom alone.

“Wherever you’re going, I bet Waite is going too. I’ll ride with him. Or Turner.”

With a growl, he released her. “Neither of them can keep you safe.”

“I can take care of myself.” She patted her inner thigh where her gun was strapped to the outside of her jeans.

“Goddammit, woman, you’d drive a man off a cliff with your inability to listen.” His eyes glittered. “You ride with me.”

A small leap of triumph. She tried not to look smug, and then his lips crashed across hers. He delved his tongue into her mouth, his fingers biting into her ass as he lifted her against his erection. He kissed her into a melting puddle, until she could hardly recall her own name.

He released her, and she rocked on her feet. When he turned and walked out, she followed him. Waite and a few others were crowded around the table, looking at Drake’s bomb.

Waite looked up as they entered. He dropped her a wink, and Drake gave a grunt. With a finger hovering over a small glass vile, Waite said, “How do you plan to do this without spilling a drop? When you mix these…”

“I’ve done it before.”

“If you’re riding hot, loaded with the makings of a car bomb, you should let me take Delta.”

Drake’s back stiffened as he glared at his buddy. “I’ve got it.”

“Then I’ve got Delta. If you lay your bike down, you’re going to be blown into so many chunks we’d never find them all to bury them. Let me take your girl—”

“I’m nobody’s Girl.” The words burst from her without thought even as her mind lingered on Waite’s words about Drake being blown into chunks.

“Dammit, she goes with me, and that’s it. You pussies ready to back me up?” Drake looked between the men. When no one responded, he nudged the table, sending the vial rolling.

Waite placed a forefinger to the vial, stopping its momentum. “You’d better find your happy place, Drake, because your temper won’t do the club any good.”

Wordlessly Drake picked up a leather bag and started filling it with the supplies. Small patches and white cotton. Some dish soap. She had no idea what any of it was for, but no doubt Drake would fit the pieces together to create something lethal.

Was he really making a car bomb, and why?

She followed him out to the bike and climbed on when he ordered her to. He swung his leg over and settled in front of her with the leather bag cradled on the seat between his thighs.

Every bump they rolled over made her clench her teeth. They rode in a V formation with Drake at the head, his lights cutting through the darkness. Through the small town and out to the interstate that took them south. Long before they returned to Heller’s Gap, she’d guessed their destination.

Whoever they were targeting was close to home. The MC was on the opposite end of town, and she thought of Ever and how she wouldn’t have forced Jamison to take her along for club business.

But what her sister and the VP had was much different from Delta’s relationship with Drake. Delta had no hold on the man. He said he was no good for her.

Dawn was just lighting the sky when the other Hell’s Sons joined their formation. Guys she knew, that made her smile. Jamison and Ace rolled up to flank Drake. With a shock she realized Copilot was in Ace’s sidecar.

The dog wore goggles and his ears flapped in the wind. When they turned a corner, he spotted Delta and tried to climb out. With his forepaws on the metal car, he took the next turn standing up.

Ace said something to him, but he didn’t move. In the maze of streets, Delta lost sight of the dog. The instant they stopped though, Copilot was on her, huge paws on her chest, nearly toppling her off the bike.

Laughing, she rubbed his ears and put her arms around him, pulling his furry body near. Drake stood shaking his head. “We don’t have time for this shit. Why’d you bring the dog?” he asked Ace.

“Why’d you bring the woman? This isn’t the place for her.”

“No, it’s not, but the alternative didn’t set well with me.” Drake’s rough tone was sweet honey to her soul. The alternative was her being with another man. Did that mean Drake had some feelings for her?

She urged Copilot to leave her alone long enough to get off the bike.

“The dog can guard her. Find a place for them to hide, Ace.” Drake strode off with his leather bag in hand, leaving Delta staring after him.

“C’mon, honey.” Ace took her shoulder and steered her toward a shadowed spot that she assumed was far away from where the bombing would take place.

Ace pointed to a small area she would have to crouch to fit into.

She scrunched between the short concrete walls that kept flood waters from washing out the road. Copilot pushed against her and she spit out some dog hair. “What are we blowing up?”

Ace hunkered down, filling her sight with black leather and patches. Things that made her feel comforted. “Your man is blowing up a van.”

“Belonging to?”

He stared at her for a few beats as if trying to decide whether or not her having the knowledge would help or hinder. “If I don’t tell you, I expect you’ll go find out for yourself.”

“You’re right.”

He sighed. “Feds are raiding the Tomfoolery looking for illegal alcohol. We’ve planted stacks of invoices for purchases, but it might not be enough. Drake had this plan, and we agreed it’s a good one.”

“Blow up the feds’ vehicle?”

A crooked grin sliced across his rugged features. “To create a distraction.”

“They’ll see the bikes. They’ll know it’s us.”

He lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “Bikes parked around a biker bar aren’t suspicious, honey.” He patted Copilot’s head, a hard mashing that the animal took as affection. He leaned into Ace’s hand. “Take care of my dog.”

She listened to his footsteps move away from her. Raking her fingers repeatedly through Copilot’s thick black coat, her mind worked over the situation. She’d probably done the wrong thing in forcing Drake to bring her. Ever hadn’t come—she was apparently the smarter of the sisters.

If the Sons had to flee fast—what else
could
happen?—she’d be a pain to get out of hiding and onto Drake’s bike.

She released a shaky breath. Car doors, voices. She couldn’t see around the concrete prison or the damn dog. Louder voices, boots thudding pavement.

Heart pounding, she half rose from her crouch, letting her head pop above the walls hiding her.

In a car several feet away, a woman was staring at her.

Delta gasped.

The silver car was parked and Vasily was the driver. But the girl in the back…she’d been sold to the Russians years ago.

Through the window, they stared at each other. Recognition flicked across her face.

“Belle,” she whispered. The last time Delta had seen her, Belle had been barely eighteen. As one of the more beautiful girls the Raiders pimped, they’d given her up to the Russians, sold her, and probably gotten big money.

Belle’s eyes widened. She’d been kind to a young and frightened Delta. Fixed her a plate of food after she’d had a beating and complimented her on her hair. Now Belle’s eyes were wide, frantic.

The explosion knocked Delta backward, and Copilot with her. The animal released a menacing growl, body stiff as he stood over her. Delta had one chance, and this was it.

If Drake was distracting the feds from completing their mission, Delta would use it to free a fellow slave.

Vasily jumped out of the car. As he rushed toward the explosion, Delta launched herself out of her hiding spot and raced to the car door.

Belle opened it. “Get out of here before he takes you too!”

“Come with me. We don’t have much time.” She reached into the car and wrapped her fingers around a thin arm. With a yank, she brought Belle to her feet. She didn’t have time to drink in Belle’s rough appearance—they had to get away.

She dragged her through the streets to Drake’s bike. But what to do with Copilot? Twisting, she ran to Ace’s. The dog jumped in and Belle got on the back. It took Delta precious minutes only to figure out Ace had his keys with him.

“Dammit!” She stuck her fingers under a metal panel and pried hard until it popped up. Then she fumbled with wires.

“Delta, hurry. The cops are coming.”

Sirens in the distance, a black cloud of burning van before them. Delta was hot-wiring a brother’s bike and stealing his fucking dog.

She gave a hysterical laugh.

“What the fuck are you doing, woman?” The familiar voice made her freeze. With a jolt, she realized the stars were aligning into her favor. She jumped away from the bike and shoved Belle toward Paxton.

“Hide her. Keep her safe.” She stuck two fingers under Copilot’s collar and yanked until he leaped out of the sidecar. She took off running, the dog at her side.

•●•

Chaos erupted as the van blew. Knowing what was coming, the Sons had gotten a safe distance away and Drake had kept himself from being seen—he’d made it to the door of the Tomfoolery.

His focus wasn’t on the madness—the Hell’s Sons milling around, trying to express their confusion in what had happened, the federal agents running around, phones in hand, yelling commands to each other.

No, Drake couldn’t stop thinking of Delta. Had she listened to Ace and stayed put? Was Copilot guarding her?

If something happened to her, Drake would never forgive himself. He’d gone soft, giving into her and allowing her to ride. He swiped a hand over his face, trying to center his attention on the mess before him, but his gaze swayed to Delta’s hiding spot.

Shouts and sirens.

The feds would know the explosion wasn’t an accident, but Drake had been very careful about keeping the Hell’s Sons’ fingerprints out of it. No one would know it was them.