48
Channing
We were going over last-minute details when Moose nudged me. “Wrecking ball incoming.”
I glanced up and swore.
Heather was striding toward us, coming in fast and hard. Those eyes—they’d melted me this morning, but they were furious now. As for the rest of her, she’d done her research. She was dressed for the part: black pants, black shoes, a black long-sleeved shirt. Her hair was pulled up in a fancy braid, falling down her back. She had a flashlight in hand, though it wasn’t on, and I was eyeing the other weapon she held when Lincoln asked, “Is that a taser?”
“Shit.” I took off running.
One guess who she meant to use that on.
“Channing!” She took off right after me.
We were meeting with half of Traverse’s men about how to corner Richter’s group. Being chased by Heather, no matter how fun, wasn’t something in those plans.
Over the next hill, down half a mile, were the last of those loyal to Richter. They weren’t expecting us, and they didn’t know they’d been cut off from the rest of the Red Demon charters. Traverse had gotten permission to bring us in on the fight, which had taken two weeks, but we were finally moving in on them.
Traverse was going to take care of Richter’s men, while I got Richter. I wasn’t planning an execution, but I wouldn’t say no to some torture. It was what it was. This was what we did to protect our town.
“Channing!” Heather yelled after me.
I couldn’t keep running. She’d alert the Red Demons, so I pivoted and ducked, wrapping my arms around her waist just as she careened into me. I picked her up in one motion, throwing her over my shoulder.
Before she could tase me, I warned, “Richter’s just over the hill. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
I felt her pause, then her elbow slammed into my back.
“Oomph!” I rubbed my hand over her ass, enjoying that. “I see you missed your flight.”
“You’re such a dick.”
We were far enough away from both camps now. If she hollered a little, the Demons wouldn’t hear. My guys might, but they couldn’t hear a normal conversation. I set her in front of me and nudged her back behind some trees with my hips.
“Hey.” She stepped back, her hand on my chest. “Stop.”
Not far enough. The guys could see us, or they could see our shapes. There was a full moon above. I wanted to make sure no shadows played out over the path.
We moved behind another tree before I was happy.
“You have GPS on me?”
She must’ve. She was prepared for what we were going to do.
“Becca told me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Stalker’s not supposed to know.”
She rolled her eyes. “Congo could cut her off tomorrow and she’d still know your plans for the next ten years.”
True. And disturbing.
Running my hands down Heather’s arms, I pulled her close, just enough to feel her. I rested my forehead on hers. “So…” I smirked. “How was your trip?”
“You’re a dumbass, you know that?”
“I was being cautious.”
“You lied to me.” She punched me in the chest, harder this time. “You fucking lied to me.”
I fought myself to keep from groping her—not the right time and place, but my hand flexed on her hip. I could…yes. I moved in, guiding her back against a tree, and I stepped closer so we were in full alignment.
My dick was happy to see her too. I closed my eyes at the touch.
“Channing.” She sighed and rested her head against the tree. Her fingers grazed over me, and I bit back a groan. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I came out here.”
“That’s obvious.” I dipped my head down, nibbling her neck. She shuddered under my touch. That only made me want to do so much more. I was struggling here.
I wasn’t a Neanderthal. I was a professional, and crew business sometimes felt like it was a profession.
But I was hungering for another session like we’d had yesterday, except I wanted our entire goal to be total destruction.
Heather was worth more than a quick and silent round behind a tree.
“Hey.” She grabbed me lightly through my jeans—and squeezed.
I bit back a moan. “I was just talking myself out of a quickie.”
She laughed, some of the anger fading from her face. The lines around her mouth softened. “Like that’d fly with your guys here. You might think about it, want it, but you and I both know you’d never do it.”
“You give me too much credit.” My insides were honing in. I was becoming sharper, more alert, predatory even. Heather was my prey, but not really. She was my partner, my equal. She was my other half, and an explosion of blood soared to my junk.
I was ramrod hard.
“Holy shit, Chan.” Heather looked down, even though it was dark. “Scale back on whatever you’re thinking.”
This was going to be painful. I grimaced. “We have about thirty seconds before one of the guys comes and gets us.”
I forced myself back. I felt like I was peeling off a second layer.
Heather grew somber. “I want in on whatever you’re planning.”
I figured, needing to adjust myself. “I was planning on delivering Richter to you. It was going to be an ‘I’m sorry I lied to you’ present and bribe at the same time.” I studied her. “Would it have worked?”
“No.”
I lifted a shoulder. “A guy had to try.”
“I’m going in with you.”
I nodded. “I know.” I was resigned.
Her eyebrows went up. “You know?”
I loved this woman. I loved her because I knew her inside and out. “The second you showed up here, I knew there was no persuading you to go back. I’m not even going to try, but you have to give me credit for trying the ultimate way of keeping you safe.”
Her heated look melted. “I know.” She moved toward me, her hand slipping under my shirt and resting on my stomach.
I bent down to meet her lips.
Living this life and loving this woman, we were going to go round and round constantly. A part of me hoped we’d never stop. And still not hearing anyone coming to get us, when Heather started to pull back, I tugged her close, my mouth deepening over hers.
We made out until someone stepped on a twig, snapping it.
Lincoln emerged from the darkness. Coated in camouflage paint, his face was grim, but his teeth flashed white as he spoke. “It’s time.”
49
Heather
They were beautiful to watch.
Channing put me at one of the watch points with night-vision goggles. I looked on as they all moved at once. Channing’s crew and Traverse’s men, all descending from high up on the valley, circling the lone house below.
Richter’s guys were up partying. They had music going, though it wasn’t blaring, and a bonfire in the yard. I could almost smell the booze.
I counted eight on the outside, and at least three moving in the house.
My stomach should’ve churned at what was going to happen.
This was how they lived, the Red Demons. This was also the door where the Demons were on one side, the crews on the other. Nights like tonight, they had to go through that door, enter that world, and I hoped they would come right back out unscathed. That was my hope, but watching, my hand tightened around the goggles, I knew not everyone would.