“Yes,” she said, smiling. “Yes, you did.”
“Then we’ll go on plenty more until you’re convinced you’re meant to be my woman.”
She pressed a kiss on his throat. “I think I already am.”
****
“Someone’s in a good mood day,” Devil remarked the following morning.
Saint had just sent Olivia home an hour ago. By this time, she was probably on her way to the hospital.
“It’s a good time to kill some Dragons,” he told Devil.
He glanced at the MC brothers he’d assembled. Iron would be shadowing Olivia. He wouldn’t take any chances when it came to her safety. Apart from Devil, Chains, Bear, Colt, and Steele had his back. Saint would only take a small contingent of men today. The rest would be taking care of their businesses, guarding their territory.
Saint didn’t want a repeat of the recent disaster. No one was going to fucking shoot holes into his clubhouse again. Chains and Bear were sharing a crude joke. Colt and Steele met his gaze steadily.
“Let’s ride and get this shit over and done with,” Saint said. He cracked his knuckles then gripped the handlebars of his Harley.
They rode out of their headquarters. His crew started for roads that would lead them out of Redemption and toward Mountain Lake, the town under the control of the Red Dragons MC. Last night, Devil and he had agreed on a seldom-used route that would hide them under the cover of trees. They encountered a couple of vehicles on the highway. The road thinned. They saw no one. Just miles of trees and nothingness.
Saint passed by an old gas station, then a rundown convenience. An old man hurried out. Saint was guessing he was the owner. He sped up. Saint couldn’t take any chances. That old man might ring up Rooster, the President of the Red Dragons MC.
The wind felt cool on his face. The late-afternoon sun bore down on them. According to trusty intel, a spy who lived in Mountain Lake, the Dragons were probably passed out at their clubhouse today. They were celebrating some shit or another, late into the night. Once Saint received a photo of the passed-out bikers from the spy, he decided to take action.
Saint glimpsed the Lusty Maiden in the near distance, an old farmhouse converted into a roadhouse that served as the Dragons’ headquarters. They hadn’t encountered any guards. No cops on the road or any of Rooster’s men. Zero trouble. It was almost too good to be true. Luck was finally on his side. Saint killed the engine a mile from the roadhouse. He dismounted, checked the semi-automatic he carried.
Once he dealt with these wannabe thugs, Saint could focus on his personal life. The image of Olivia all tangled up in his bed that morning rose up in his head. Saint had stood looking down at her for a few moments, admiring her creamy skin, her long shapely legs, her breasts peeking under the fabric. Last night had changed things between them. Maybe for the better.
“Saint, Chains and Bear went ahead,” Devil said, his voice bringing him back to reality. “I didn’t hear any gunshots. Let’s take this opportunity.”
Saint nodded, a little annoyed with himself for getting distracted in the thick of the action. Well, if Saint had to be honest, he was playing dirty, but the Dragons hit them first. They crossed the line when they tried to assassinate not only him but also Bonnie.
“This is like shooting ducks in a barrel,” he said.
“Let’s not get too hasty yet.”
He grunted. The rest of his team tailed him as he walked forward, into the fortress of an enemy. Saint wouldn’t really use that word to describe the sleazy establishment. They walked in, unchallenged. The two guards Rooster posted outside the roadhouse were both passed out. More Red Dragons MC members lay inside, snoozing. It smelled awful in there, like something had died, combined with the scent of alcohol, sex, and must.
Saint kicked at a discarded condom wrapper, along with a syringe. According to their intel, the Red Dragons also sampled the cocaine they sold on the streets. It appeared they snorted the shit of it, more like. Saint found Rooster, half-naked and sprawled on the bar. The MC President only stirred when Saint pressed the barrel of his gun to his forehead.
His other MC brothers didn’t make any unnecessary moves. He’d warned them beforehand that they were only here for Rooster. No one else. Chains and Bear were trigger-happy fools, but this time, they stayed put and obeyed his orders.
“What the hell?” Rooster grumbled. The President of the Red Dragons MC froze when he saw who held the gun.
“You made a fucking mistake when you gave the order to gun me and my daughter down.” Saint wanted Rooster to look into his eyes. In his dying moments, Rooster would know it was his enemy who signed his death sentence.
“Saint, listen, let’s work out a—”
Seeing Rooster pleading for his life and trying to worm his way out of this disgusted Saint. Rooster should have known what he’d signed up for when he sent those assassins after Saint. He pulled the trigger. There was a silencer on his gun, but it still made a little noise. The bikers around Rooster groaned.
Saint gestured to his guys and they left the bar. He wiped away the smear of blood, Rooster’s blood, that splattered on his cheek with the back of his hand. Outside, a lean and red-haired man ran up to him. He wore a leather vest, but no patch. A prospect. Bear already pointed his gun at the runner, but Saint gripped his arm.
“He’s on our side,” he said.
“It’s done?” Matthew asked, panting to catch his breath. It was only thanks to Matthew that most of the bikers were down for the count. Saint didn’t know exactly what Matthew did, but he was betting the prospect spiked some of the bikers’ drinks last night.
“Yeah. Rooster’s dead.”
“Good.” Matthew’s brown eyes gleamed with silent pleasure. Rooster had killed his fiancée two months ago and it didn’t take much to convince the young man to play for the other side.
“You better leave Mountain Lake, before Rooster’s men realize they have a rat on their hands.”
“I’m planning to do just that,” Matthew said.
They returned to their bikes. Just when Saint started the engine, gunfire erupted behind them. A bullet sliced through his left leg, drawing blood.
“Shit,” he muttered. Saint looked over his shoulder and saw three, no four members of the Red Dragons MC coming after them on their bikes.
“Let’s go,” he yelled to the others. Chains and Bear were preoccupied, still busy shooting at the Dragons. They managed to get two. Two more were still on their tail. If they didn’t manage to get a move on, more would go after them.
“Now.” Saint guided his bike back to the road.
Hearing the familiar roar of the others’ Harleys, he picked up the pace. They blazed away. Chains and Bear were laughing, making jokes. Saint rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t laugh, not until they were back on safe ground, on their own territory. He wondered if Matthew managed to make it alive, then decided he probably did. That kid possessed plenty of cunning, but he also had a good heart. Saint invited him to the club, but Matthew refused. He wanted a new start somewhere else. A new life.
His thoughts meandered back to Olivia. His woman deserved the world. Saint would hand it to her on a platter if he could. If Olivia found out he killed a man in cold blood today without any regrets, what would she think? Would she finally see him as the monster folks in Redemption painted him to be?