Remy (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 4)

He wasn’t going to let that stand.

He would have to make her pay for that.

And I had to make sure that didn’t happen.

Rage, familiar and welcome, worked its way up my spine, spreading outward until it threatened to envelop me completely as I finally cut the engine outside of The Main Squeeze.

Lark’s car was still there.

The front driver’s side door thrown open, like she’d either rushed out of it, or someone had yanked her out.

Knowing it was a waste of time, I flew off my bike and toward the store, finding it unlocked, with the alarm still ringing, but empty.

“Should I turn it off?” Myles asked when he managed to pull up about two minutes after I got there.

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” I growled, reaching up to rake my hands through my hair. “Where would they take her? To the storage place again?” I asked, looking at Seeley.

“Knowing we know our way around it? Unlikely,” he said, shaking his head.

“Arty said Anthony has a—“ I started, then cut off when my phone started ringing in my pocket.

A part of me almost hoped to see Lark’s name there.

Which was ridiculous.

But the hope was there.

“It’s Arty,” I said to the others as I swiped to answer. “Not a great time, man. Lark is—“

“Being held in the jewelry building,” he cut me off. “I know. I am about to go in now.”

“Go in?” I asked, waving a finger in the air in a way that said to get on our bikes. “You can’t go in there, Arty. They could kill you. I’m five minutes away,” I told him. “Wait for us.”

“I can’t talk now. I’m opening the door,” he said, and then the line cut out.

“Fucking Arty is trying to rescue Lark from these bastards,” I said, jumping on my bike. “They’re at the fucking jewelry store.”

My mind was racing as I got on my bike and flew past the speed limit to get across town as quickly as possible. Hopefully before Arty got himself killed.

I wasn’t sure what had come over him to make him think he could do field work. That had never been the kind of guy he was. The only conclusion I could come to was that he had just so happened to be watching the cameras of the organization, and seen them bringing Lark in.

Knowing we were all over in Golden Glades, he likely figured we were all too far away to be able to get there in time. And since he was located in Miami, he was close enough to get there.

But Arty had no training. And while, sure, Arty did illegal shit for a living, he wasn’t exactly street smart. I was fairly certain the guy wouldn’t even know how to throw a proper punch. Or if he tried, he could even do any sort of damage with how frail he was from not feeding himself properly.

My heart was hammering in my chest as I cut the engine and flew off my bike, not even waiting for Seeley and Levee, just rushing through the back alley toward the door of Iced Out.

I was vaguely aware of the dogs grumbling in their cages as I rushed past, saving that information for later, when I was sure Lark was safe.

I could hear voices coming from a room a little further up and to the right.

There was no hesitation.

I just went in fucking swinging.

I couldn’t tell you who I hit first or even how hard. All I knew was there was the warm smattering of blood and the satisfying crunching of bones breaking.

I was aware of Lark.