Page 49 of Shadow Strike
He was out the door and in his truck before she could respond.The engine roared to life, and he peeled off.
The bar was twenty minutes away.He could make it in fifteen if he pushed.
His phone sat in the cup holder, the security feed still live.He glanced at it as he drove—more bikes arriving, men gathering near the entrance, Sebastian’s figure visible just inside the door.Holding position.Waiting for backup that was still too far away.
CB pressed harder on the gas.
Regan was in there.Regan, who’d trusted him with her investigation, her family, her body.Who’d agreed to be his partner less than twelve hours ago.
Ryder had given him twenty-four hours to decide, but he hadn’t waited.He was sending a show of force to prove he could reach her anytime he wanted.
CB’s hands tightened on the wheel.His father was lost to him, at least for now.Maybe forever.But Regan wasn’t.And he would be damned if he let Ryder take her, too.
The truck ate up the miles between them.The mountains rose dark against the afternoon sky.
Ryder had stepped over the line one too many times.As he drove, CB started making phone calls.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Regan counted twelve motorcycles through the front window.Then fourteen.Then she stopped counting.
Lynx stood near the door, his hand resting on his hip where she assumed a weapon was concealed.His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes tracked every movement in the parking lot.
“You need to go to your office,” he said.“Lock the door.”
“This is my bar.”
“And those are Ryder’s men.”
She knew that.She could see the Canon Outlaws patch bright against the black leather they wore.They weren’t rushing the door, and they weren’t breaking windows.They just kept arriving, parking their bikes in neat rows, standing in clusters, and smoking cigarettes like they had all the time in the world.
Which, she supposed, they did.The extortion deadline was today.She hadn’t paid.And now here they were.
Her hands trembled as she wiped down the bar top for the fifth time.She needed to look busy, needed to feel like she had some control over the situation.But she didn’t.Control had walked out the door the moment the first bike pulled into her lot.
“Ms.Hill.”Lynx’s voice was firm.“Please.”
“I’m not hiding in the back while they intimidate my customers.”She gestured at the handful of regulars who’d been nursing coffees when the bikes started arriving.Most had already asked for their checks, their eyes darting nervously toward the windows.“Someone has to run the front.”
“I can handle the front.”
“You know how to pour a draft?”
His jaw tightened.“I think I can handle it.”
The front door opened.Regan’s heart seized.
But it wasn’t an Outlaw—it was CB, moving through the entrance with a calm that seemed almost impossible given the army assembling outside.His eyes found hers immediately, and he smiled.
Like he wasn’t worried at all.
Like everything was going to be okay.
Her shoulders dropped an inch.
“Hey.”He crossed to the bar, leaning against it like this was any other Friday.“Lynx.Status?”
“Twenty-three bikes total, an equal number of men.No weapons visible, but I’m not assuming anything.”
