Page 57 of The Riders’ Reign

Hector thinks she won’t come, but, unfortunately, I believe Hector is wrong.

He also doesn’t know his son is already dead. When that fact comes to light, this whole thing is going to get seriously ugly. And he wants Camile in the middle of all that?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The panic starts to well up, but I can’t let that happen.

I reassure myself that my fellow club members already know all this. They will plan and prepare for it. I have no idea how they’re going to pull off an exchange, but they’ll have come up with something.

I lift my head a little more. “Should I warn them that you have no intention of making this exchange?” My voice comes out as a croak, like I’ve forgotten how to use it.

Hector blinks at me, and I note he has surprisingly kind eyes, for a coldhearted sociopath, with pretty, long lashes.

“Who said anything about not making the exchange?”

“Call it a gut instinct.”

He purses his lips, the expression distorted because of his scar, and shrugs. “If your people behave themselves and the exchange happens without incident, I will let both you and them walk away unscathed.”

My stomach knots because I know that’s an impossibility.

“I do wish to talk to the Montez girl in person, though, try to make her see that my offer of her and her mother’s safety in return for the safehouse location is a good one. Cartel business should be kept between the men. Women do not need to be involved.”

“Then who is the woman currently being tied up in the bathroom?” I throw out there.

He sniffs. “She is not cartel. She is a nobody. I will return her to her family, if all goes to plan.”

Again, I experience that twist in my guts because this is not going to go to plan.

“So, she’s someone connected to the MC?”

Neurons fire in my brain, connecting the dots. Hector had known exactly where we would be and when to do the ambush. There had to be a leak, and my guess is the woman has something to do with it. I don’t know her, though, so she’s not one of the club member’s ol’ ladies. There is something familiar about her, so perhaps she’s someone’s family member I’ve not been introduced to. How will the rest of the club react to the fact one of our men betrayed us? I remember what Ace did to the Numbnuts and think it won’t be pretty, whatever the outcome.

“You do not need to worry your silly little head about such details. Focus on behaving yourself until your friends arrive.”

Hector walks away, the condescending bastard, but my mind is still on the woman. It’s possible the rest of the club doesn’t even know about her. In which case, they’re not going to realize I’m not the only one who needs rescuing.

My thoughts shift to another girl, one who means far more to me. Will Camile really come? I hope not. That would make things a whole lot more complicated, but perhaps that’s exactly what Hector wants.

Hector pauses a few feet away from me and jerks his chin at two of his men, then back to me.

“Watch over him,” he commands them. “Don't let the asshole try anything.”

I bite back my smirk. He's too late for that. I just hope they don't notice at any point that my hands aren't properly bound.

Hector leaves the hangar, but his men stand either side of me, glaring down. There's nothing more I can do except wait.

I don't intend to, but somehow, despite everything, I drift off, and jerk awake with a start. I realize I've lost track of time. Fucking hell, Ghost, get a grip.

The air in the hangar has changed, and a heightened sense of alertness ripples through the men. In the distance, I'm sure I hear the familiar rumble of motorcycles. My heart picks up its pace. They're here. I try to steady my emotions by breathing in through my nose and slowly blowing out the breath.

Camile will be with them. As much as I want to see her, I don't want it to be like this when she will be in danger. I don't want her to witness me as a prisoner, either—beaten and pathetic. I know she understands how this feels more than she ever should, but that doesn't make it any better.

“It's party time,” I hear Hector whoop from somewhere outside. “Fiesta!”

The man is a total psycho. You’d think he’d be somber and worried, what with his son supposedly being returned to him in a dangerous exchange, but instead he’s acting like this.

I wonder exactly where he's planning for the exchange to take place. The airstrip is protected—chain-link fences that I caught a glimpse of on my way in, plus protective gates barring the entrance.