Her Possessive Bikers

35. Jacoby

35

JACOBY

M y knuckles turn white as I grip the handlebars, leading our convoy of bikes through the night. The tip came from one of our street informants - an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. The thought of Indy hurt or scared makes my blood boil.

"Keep tight formation," Tres barks through our helmet comms. "We don't know how many hostiles we're dealing with."

The warehouse looms ahead, a hulking shadow against the starless sky. I kill my engine and coast the last few yards, the rest of our crew following suit. The silence feels heavy as we dismount.

"Jacoby, take point with me," Tres orders, checking his weapon. "Kyler, coordinate the others to cover the exits."

"If they've hurt her..." Kyler's voice trails off as he loads his gun.

"Focus," I snap, though my own hands shake slightly as I chamber a round. "We get in, we get our girl, we get out."

We edge toward the warehouse entrance when the flood lights snap on, momentarily blinding us. Lupe emerges from the shadows, flanked by his crew. The facial tattoos on his round face twist as he grins.

"Well, if it ain't the damn cavalry." Lupe spreads his arms wide. "Come to rescue the princess?"

"Cut the shit, Lupe." Tres's voice carries that dangerous edge I've learned to recognize. "Where is she?"

"Alive. For now." Lupe pulls out a cigarette, taking his time lighting it. "Little roughed up, but damn she's tough, just like her old man was."

I hear Kyler's gun cock and he starts to approach.

"Back the fuck down Kyler, not now." I whisper.

I hear him growl under his breath, but I hear the sound of his boots as he steps back.

"Looks like we got ourselves a situation here, don't we?" Lupe says.

My trigger finger itches as I scan the catwalks above. I count at least six more of Lupe's men in the shadows, all armed.

"Name your price," Tres says flatly.

Lupe takes a long drag. "Simple. You eat a bullet, right here, right now. Then your boys can take the girl home."

"Like hell," Kyler snarls behind me.

"Think about it." Lupe's eyes glitter. "One life for another. Plus, my boys get your territory. Everyone wins."

"Except us," I cut in. "How about we counter-offer with you releasing Indy, and we don't paint these walls with your brains?"

"Funny guy." Lupe's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "But here's the thing - you're not in a position to negotiate. I got your girl. And if Tres here doesn't take the deal..." He makes a slicing motion across his throat.

The warehouse falls silent except for the hum of the flood lights. I can feel the tension radiating off Tres beside me, see his jaw working as he weighs our options.

"Clock's ticking," Lupe says. "What's it gonna be?"

Tres steps forward, his boots scraping against the concrete. My heart hammers in my chest.

"Don't!" I grab his arm. "There's gotta be another way."

"Tres, please," Kyler's voice cracks behind me.

Tres shrugs off my grip, squaring his shoulders as he faces Lupe. The warehouse air grows thick with tension.

My chest tightens as I watch Tres step forward. First Brick, now this? The club's already bleeding from one loss - losing Tres would tear us apart at the seams. I glance back at Kyler, seeing the raw panic in his eyes. The kid's barely holding it together, his fingers white-knuckled around his gun. Brick took him in when no one else would, and Tres became his rock after we lost the old man. Now he might lose both father figures.

"Can't let this happen," I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across Kyler's face, making him look younger, more vulnerable. Like that scrawny teenager Brick brought in years ago. My stomach churns remembering how Brick's death nearly broke him. Adding Tres to that weight might shatter him completely.

I run my tongue over my dry lips, mind racing. The club needs its president. Kyler needs his mentor. And Indy... Christ, Indy needs all of us. The thought of her locked away somewhere while we stand here playing Lupe's sick game makes my blood boil.

"We're running out of time, boys," Lupe's voice cuts through my thoughts, dripping with satisfaction. "Tick tock."

Behind me, I hear Kyler's breathing getting more ragged with each passing second. The kid's about to snap, and when he does, this powder keg's gonna blow. We need another play, and fast.

Tres is now face to face with Lupe. All it would take is Lupe to draw a knife, or one of his fucking cronies to snipe Tres.

Tres sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Not a chance in fucking hell." Tres's voice drops to that deadly quiet tone. "But I'll die trying to save her."

The words barely leave his mouth before all hell breaks loose. Gunfire erupts from above, bullets pinging off metal. I dive behind a stack of crates, returning fire at the shadows in the catwalks.

"Cover me!" Tres charges straight at Lupe, tackling him as more of Lupe's men pour in.

Blood sprays across my face as I take down one of Lupe's guys. Pain rips through my shoulder - a lucky shot. I grit my teeth and keep firing.

Kyler's to my left, blood streaming from a gash in his forehead, but he's holding his own. Our brothers have engaged the rest of Lupe's crew, turning the warehouse into a war zone.

By the looks of things, we've got the upper hand. Bodies with green and black kuttes lay scattered on the warehouse floor. Dos Bandito's underestimated who the fuck they were dealing with. Brick or no Brick. We still got it.

But victory is short lived when I hear Tres cry out. I turn towards the sound of his short and he's on his knees, crimson blooming across his chest, but he's got Lupe in a death grip. They struggle, and I watch as Tres drives his knife up under Lupe's ribs. The rival president's eyes go wide, then vacant.

When the echo of the last gunshot fades, we're the only ones left standing. Tres slumps against a pillar, breathing hard.

"Go," he wheezes, pressing a hand to his wounds. "Find her. Get her out."

"No, we're not leaving you…you need-" Kyler starts.

"Now!" Tres barks. "I'll be fine. Just find our girl."

I nod to our brothers as they rush to Tres's side.

"Kyler, with me," I say, checking my clip. Half full. It'll have to do. "We clear the building room by room."

Blood trickles down my arm, but adrenaline keeps the pain at bay. We move deeper into the warehouse, weapons ready. Our boots crunch on broken glass and shell casings.

"Got signs of struggle here," Kyler points to scuff marks on the floor, leading toward a metal staircase.

"Basement," I whisper. Makes sense - these assholes love their underground lairs.

The stairs groan under our weight. My heart pounds as we reach the bottom, scanning the darkness with our flashlights. A row of doors lines the corridor.

"Jesus," Kyler mutters as we pass the first few rooms. They're set up like cells, complete with chains.

A muffled sound from the end of the hall. We exchange looks and pick up the pace.

"Indy?" I call out softly. "Baby, you in there?"

"Jacoby?" Her voice is weak but alive. Thank fuck.

We shoot the lock off the door, and throw it open.

My heart clenches at the sight of Indy laid out in the floor, chained to that metal chair. Her lip's split, eye swollen, she's bloodied up, but that fire still burns in her gaze. Kyler works on the locks binding her while I keep watch. I don't miss the haziness in his eyes as he's holding his shit together for her, hell seeing her like this makes me want to fucking weep.

"Hold still baby, I've almost got it," Kyler murmurs, his picks working the mechanism.

The chains clatter to the ground. Indy stumbles as she stands, and I catch her before she falls. "Easy there, darlin'. We got you."

She looks me over, as if checking to see If I'm okay. She then looks to Kyler noticing the gash on his forehead under his matted hair.

"God damnit Kyler, I told you no more fights for two weeks, what am I going to do with you?"

Kyler walks over and kisses her forehead. "This wasn't a bar baby, I followed your orders."

She looks back to me. Her fingers dig into my arms. "Where's Tres? I heard so much gunfire..." Her voice breaks.

"He's down." I brush her matted hair from her face, trying to be gentle around the bruising.

"How bad?" Her eyes fill with tears. "Tell me."

Kyler touches her shoulder. "He's alive. Took two to the chest fighting Lupe."

"No! Fuck." The tears spill over. "This is my fault. If I hadn't-"

"Hey, none of that." I wrap an arm around her waist, supporting her weight. "Right now we need to get you home so you can work your magic on him. The others already took him back to the clubhouse."

She wipes her eyes, wincing as she touches the bruised skin. "Then what the fuck are we waiting for?"

"That's our girl." I guide her toward the stairs, keeping my pace slow. "Kyler, take point. I got her."

We emerge into the warehouse proper, stepping over bodies. Indy's breath catches at the carnage, but she keeps moving. That's what I love about her - tough as nails, just like her old man.

"Your bike or mine?" Kyler asks as we reach the entrance.

"You take her, " I say. "You can keep her steadier than I can with this shoulder wound."

Indy's head snaps up. "Shoulder wound? What the fuck Jacoby, you're hurt too?"

"Just a scratch, darlin'. Nothing compared to what Tres needs. Let's roll."

I lean into my bike, pushing it harder as we tear through the dark streets. The wind whips at my cuts and the bullet wound throbs with each bump, but none of that matters. Kyler's bike leads the way, Indy clinging to his back. Even from here, I can see how she's favoring her left side - those bastards worked her over good.

My radio crackles. "How's she holding up?" I ask through the comm.

"Hanging in there," Kyler responds. "But she's shaking pretty bad."

"Almost there, darlin'," I say, knowing Indy can hear through Kyler's comm. "Just hold on."

We blow through another red light, the streets eerily empty at this hour. The clubhouse is only a few miles out, but every second feels like an eternity. Tres is tough as nails, but two rounds to the chest... fuck.

"Talk to me, baby girl," I say when I notice Indy's head drooping. "Stay with us."

"I'm okay," she mumbles. "Just dizzy. Need to check Tres..."

"You can barely sit up straight," Kyler protests.

"Doesn't matter." Her voice strengthens with determination. "I'm the only one who can help him."

She's right, and we all know it. Hospitals aren't an option - not with the heat we just brought down.

"There's a medical kit under my bed," Indy continues. "The black case. It has everything I need."

I gun the throttle, the engine roaring as we round the final corner. The clubhouse comes into view, bikes scattered across the lot where our brothers dumped them in their rush to get Tres inside.

"Please," Indy whispers, her voice barely carrying through the comm. "Please let us make it in time."