Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(57)

We heard Bingo, but we didn't see him. The dog was gone. So was little Alex.

“Shit!” Joker bolted up, realizing the full gravity before I did, stepping toward the blanket like he'd just seen it burning.

God, no.

I ran right behind him, trying not to faint, wondering how the hell we'd gotten so distracted they'd slipped away from us.

We ran on, heading toward the crop of trees, a little ways down the first trail. The park was completely deserted, except for us, which wasn't helpful.

Bingo barked like mad in the distance, somewhere in the trees. Joker looked over his shoulders, just once.

“No! Stay the f*ck there, babe. Let me go.” His eyes were a killer's again.

It took all my might to anchor my feet to the ground, unmoving. I poked my head through the thick brush, angrily pushing the branches aside, trying to see.

Oh, Christ. What were those shapes moving in the distance, deep in the woods?

I saw Joker's silhouette. Another shadow blurred past him, lower to the ground, probably Bingo's. The dog was going insane, crashing through the brush, chasing a tangle of other dark shapes moving up ahead.

“Motherf*cker!” A man's voice rang out, surprised, but barely audible. Not Joker's.

My man dropped to his knees, pulled his gun, and –

“Holy shit,” I whispered, right after his gun went off.

One of the shadows went down. The others were moving, moving, and I heard it then.

A motorcycle. No, make that several, roaring in the distance.

Something else wailed. High, young, and very scared.

Alex.

Jesus Christ. Alex!

Two shadows went tearing into the trees, deeper into the woods, where I couldn't see. I heard the bikes peeling out, and I followed the sound, forgetting everything he'd told me. I ran through the brush, desperate to catch up, but it was already too late, and I knew it.

We'd been ambushed. My baby boy was gone.

I plunged through the trees, stabbing down the tangled shortcut along the trail, until I couldn't hear anything except my own breath catching in my lungs. Hot tears blurred my vision. Ignoring the sharp branches and thorns scratching at my skin, I pressed on, ripping through everything I could.

If I could catch them, find the bikes, see what was going on, then maybe I'd have a license plate. Or a face.

Something, anything, f*cking anything to save my son!

About a minute later, I collided with a huge, thick slab of chest. He grabbed me, pulled me into him, but not before the scream leaving my throat echoed across the whole park.

“Babe, babe, f*ckin' stop! Baby!”

Joker. It took me forever to realize it was him. Even longer for me to stop scratching, biting, kicking.

I was a total mess. So was Bingo, who paced angrily around us, his fur a tangled mess, forest debris clinging to him. He'd tried to chase them down, the same as me.

“Where did they go? Did you see them? Jackson, did you hear the bikes?!”

“Heard it all. Killed one of them. I was fast. They were f*ckin' faster. Saw the last of their goddamned shit drive away before I could get there. Three bikes. One truck.” He swallowed, his big arms starting to shake. I looked at him, shuddering when I saw his eyes.

Pure, hellacious rage was eating him alive. I didn't have a clue how he held me, squeezed me so tight it wasn't easy to breathe.

“God. What else did you see? Is he...”

Gone? I couldn't bring myself to say it. Bingo rolled on the pavement, another small parking lot across the park, where the demons had snuck in when we hadn't been looking.

Joker just looked at me and nodded, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the bulge in his temples. There must've been a hurricane exploding inside him. It had to hurt.

Maybe as bad as the savage hell swallowing me up, stabbing its knife in my back, driving it deep until the world became a detached, maddening blur.

“Don't even f*ckin' say it,” he growled, his phone in one hand. “Walk with me. Stay close. I ain't f*ckin' losing the second half of the only thing that ever f*ckin' mattered in one f*ckin' day.”

I walked behind him, halfheartedly putting Bingo back on his leash, tugging him along as the dog followed lazily at my feet. We hit the trail, walking back to where we'd come.

When I saw the empty blanket next to the tree and the picnic table, I f*cking lost it. Just froze up, buried my face in my hands, and cried.

Our son was going to die, innocent as the day he was born.

Joker's voice echoed around me like an engine roaring.

He screamed. Swore. Begged his brothers for help, for backup, right this f*cking instant.

What did it matter? If the club showed up in the next five seconds, it was still too late.

We were too late. I fell down in the blanket, numb to everything, Bingo whining and pawing at my side.

“Summer? Babe? What the f*ckin' f*ck?!”

Joker threw the phone down, grabbed me, and shook me with all his might. I couldn't feel it.

I couldn't feel...anything.

Regret wrapped around my throat like a snake, choked the life out of me. Deep inside my chest, something splintered, gave way.

That hopeful, fragile ball swinging in my heart all day went flying off, hit the ground, and shattered into a trillion deadly pieces.

I started laughing.

A woman never really imagines what it feels like to lose her mind until it's too f*cking late.