UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8) - Hayley Faiman (rooftoppers TXT) 📗

lips together, I clear my throat. Fuck. I would betray them for Pammy, too. In a goddamn heartbeat, I would. I don’t think another person could get me to do anything the way that she can, and like Presley, I don’t think she’d ever even think to ask it of me.

“Pammy wouldn’t ask either.”

Silver doesn’t say anything, but my unsaid words are perfectly clear. I would betray them for her. If it came down to it, I would without hesitation. She would never ask me though, would never even think about it, which is why I’ve completely fallen for her. I’m head over goddamn heels for the woman.

“Then she’s your one,” he says, his voice low as he drives the two-lane road through the woods that lead us to the cabins where we know Riot and his few still breathing men live.

Worm already checked what cameras he could, but wasn’t able to find much out here. And now I understand why. This place is isolated as fuck. Sure, there are people here, but they are spread out and the population sign at the beginning of town boasted a whopping three hundred and fifty-two inhabitants.

I bet this place is a ghost town at night.

“She’s my one,” I admit distractedly, as I look around the highway frontage road at the town.

I have a feeling that there is nothing but forest behind the buildings along the highway, nothing more. Perfect hiding places for a fucking club on the run and anyone else who is hiding away for whatever reason. A perfect place not to be found.

“This place is creepy as fuck,” Silver says, the same distracted tone to his voice.

“Yup.”

There is a small burger diner on the right that claims to have the best burgers along with shakes. We all pull in and climb out, stretching our legs. My stomach grumbles as soon as the smell of the greasy beef and fries hits my nostrils.

“We eatin’?” I ask.

Silver chuckles. “Fuck yeah, that smells fuckin’ awesome.”

Wordlessly, together, we walk into the small restaurant. The tables are plain and have silver napkin dispensers along with salt, pepper, and ketchup on each one. It looks like every diner dive I’ve been to and I can’t help but smile, judging by the no muss, no fuss, décor this place may have the best shit around.

We order burgers and shakes by the dozen, then gather in the back of the small building and sit as close together as we can.

“We got a plan in place?” Mamba asks, though his gaze flicks to Worm, our techie.

Worm blanches and shakes his head. “I was only able to scan the aerial view of their small compound area. It’s not much, but it’s surrounded by woods. I don’t know what kind of security system they have set up at all.”

“Knowing Riot, it’ll be their guns only. They aren’t too fucking bright,” I announce.

“No cameras? No traps?” Mamba asks.

I shrug a shoulder. “Probably not. Riot is cocky as fuck. You surprised them coming to California, but they think they got away with everything. They think they’re on easy street and will get the final drop on you. I have no doubt that they’re licking their wounds and planning some kind of retaliation. It’ll be a coward’s fight, that’s just the way they are, but they’re planning.”

Dragon grunts, licking his lips before he takes a huge bite of his burger. He chews a few times, then swallows it before he speaks.

“We go after them first thing in the morning. At dawn. I’m not sitting around here giving them time to figure out we’ve come calling. I want this done and I want it done quickly. They need to be put down and the time is now. I’ve put it off for far too long. It’s my fault our brothers were killed. They should have been gone well before that.”

“Is it your fault?” I ask, the guilt flowing through me because I know the truth.

I kept telling him to hold off, wanting to wait until Pamela was eighteen, knowing that there was only one way to save her from the fate that her father had already lined out for her. A couple of the guys grumble, but I can’t make out what they say, instead, my focus is on Dragon and only Dragon.

His gaze flicks up to meet mine and he grins. “Brother,” he says softly. “You can carry whatever guilt you want, but this is not on you. I should have ended them well before I knew you were even infiltrated in that club. I let it go on longer than it should have, mainly because I didn’t want more war. I thought that I could negotiate my way out of it, or at least bide my time.”

Nobody says anything, and my voice has been stolen from me. I have nothing to say. Instead, I clear my throat and look down at my fries, wondering if I’ll be able to eat them. Then wondering, how the fuck did I suddenly get off of the hook for this shit?

“Don’t give me a pass,” I announce. Lifting my head, I look directly into Dragon’s eyes. “Don’t give me a pass for what I did.”

Dragon’s lips curve up into a grin. “I’m not. But this isn’t anything you need to have guilt about. This is all on me. I can take blame when blame is due to me. It’s not on you.”

“Have we had enough feel-good shit? I’m ready to kill some motherfuckers,” Mamba growls at the same time we hear a gasp.

Lifting my head, I look over Dragon’s shoulder to see a sweet little waitress standing behind him, her eyes wide and her lips parted.

Fuck.

Mamba chuckles. “I got this,” he purrs as he shifts from the bench.

I watch as he walks over to her, but she shakes her head, her face draining from all color as he approaches. I see Gator shifting from his seat too, making his way over to them.

The two men usher the