Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2) - Page 93
She did trust him.
She trusted him to get his ass up to Chicago and rescue her gorgeous ass.
He raced down the stairs and out the door. “Curly!” he screamed as he sprinted back to the clubhouse across the field. “Curly!”
His prez burst out the door with Tracker hot on his heels. “The fuck?”
“We gotta go now!” He ran to his bike. “Liv left. She’s trying to take care of it on her own!”
“Fuck!” Tracker darted down the stairs calling for Lock over his shoulder.
“I heard!” Lock flew out the door toward his bike.
“Get your asses to the airport, and I’ll get you flights,” Curly called.
Scott didn’t spare a second to wait for his brothers to mount their bikes. He had enough trust in his brothers to know they’d be hot on his tail.
He tore out of the lot, spraying a cloud of dust in his wake.
The men speeding after him had dropped everything and rushed to his aid without a single question or second’s hesitation. They’d help rescue his woman no matter what it took.
A woman so selfless she’d sacrifice her safety for that of another.
The woman who loved him.
The woman who’d saved him.
Now it was his turn to save her, and he wouldn’t rest until Olivia was back in his arms, and her ex was rotting in the goddamn ground.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ONCE SHE’D DECIDED to go, physically leaving was the easy part. While the guys planned and plotted in church, Brooke had an appointment to pick up a rescue a few towns over. That meant quiet on the farm aside from one prospect standing guard at the entrance.
Lucky for her, the guy blushed and stammered every time she spoke to him. One flirty smile, a compliment about how good he looked in his prospect’s cut, and a bullshit story about making a super quick run to the store for feminine products, and she was cruising toward the airport in her crappy car.
Easy as getting wet in the ocean.
Physically.
Emotionally was another story. The second the farm faded from view, a choked sob tore from the depths of her soul. She’d managed to put on a good show for the prospect, smiling, winking, and pretending she wasn’t about to shatter. Thankfully, he didn’t know her well enough to notice how tightly she gripped the steering wheel, how rigid her posture was, or the despair in her eyes.
Alone and heading straight for her ex, she didn’t have to pretend anymore.
She was as terrified.
Whatever happened with Lance, it wouldn’t be pleasant. He’d be furious at best, murderous at worst.
Would she make it in time to spare an innocent woman more trauma?
And would Scott ever forgive her for running away?
He’d come. She didn’t have a single doubt about that. He’d rescue her for Deke if for no other reason. But would he forgive her?
She hadn’t thought it possible for her heart to fracture further, but somehow the tiny fragments splintered into tinier pieces.
The trip to the airport ended way too fast. After sobbing the entire way, Liv arrived at the private gate with a red nose, puffy eyes, and a broken heart.
“Name?” the gate guard asked as she shoved sunglasses over her eyes.
“Olivia Truitt. Lance Hamilton is sending his plane for me.” She hadn’t been able to find a commercial flight out of Tampa until the following morning. Fear for the woman Lance threatened had her calling him and informing him of her decision to return to Chicago. Anything to buy her time. He’d insisted on sending his private jet. She assumed it would take a good few hours, meaning she’d be worrying herself sick in the lounge until the jet arrived.
“Yes, ma’am. The plane is here and ready for you. You’ll be leaving from the second runway in thirty minutes.”
“What?” She blinked up at him. That couldn’t be correct. “My flight was arranged forty-five minutes ago. How did the plane arrive so fast?”
“Hmm?” The guard glanced up from his clipboard. “Oh, Mr. Hamilton’s plane has been parked here for a week since he arrived. He’s rented it out a few times, but mostly it’s been here.”
A week? Lance had been in Florida for a week? The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She glanced around, suddenly feeling Lance’s eyes on her, but that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to drive through. You’re getting a line behind you.”
“Oh, yes, sorry.” Without bothering to raise the window, she pressed the gas and made her way toward the small, exclusive parking lot.
Maybe she’d heard wrong. Lance couldn’t have been in Florida for a week. Right?
And what did it mean if he was there?
Had he seen her with Scott? Had his spies been to the farm? Had he been watching her the whole time? So many questions, but one fact stood out. She’d be seeing Lance a lot sooner than she’d anticipated.
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