Destroy For Her - R.B. Hilliard Page 0,47

and walked the bike into the garage.

Dismounting, he hung his helmet on the handlebars and headed for the door. Three men unfolded from the shadows. His eyes clocked the guns, his gaze traveling to the two men wielding them; Black suits, beefy builds, bored expressions—definitely bodyguards. The third man had a wiry build, slicked-back hair, and a weak chin. Carlos. The light-gray suit made him look like a pimp.

“It was a longshot that I would find you here, but as I am a gambling kind of man, I took that chance,” Carlos said in a thick Spanish accent. “I presume you got my message. I tried to give it to the blonde, but unfortunately, her neck broke in the process.”

Ax sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers curling into fists as blinding rage washed through him. Emma! The fucker was a dead man.

Carlos craned his neck in order to peer around Ax. “I was hoping my wife would be with you. I am disappointed.”

He gave Carlos a flat stare, while at the same time, mentally assessing the situation. Two guns against one unarmed man weren’t exactly great odds. Those odds would be better if he could get to his gun. Too bad it was in the saddlebag, which was on his bike, which was out of fucking reach. He took a step in that direction, and Goon One made a move to block him

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Carlos warned. “How about we take this into the house?”

Ax considered it. He could always set off the alarm. That would let Grover know he was in trouble, but then Grover would try to call him and since his phone was in the saddlebag. Fuck. Grover would eventually send someone to check on him, but by the time they got there, he would probably be dead. No, that wouldn’t work. “How about we stay right here, and you tell me what the fuck gives. Is it Sage? You’ve gotta know by now that she hates you. Is it the club? Seriously, what gives?”

Carlos looked surprised. “You don’t remember me?

Ax blinked. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“That’s not true,” Carlos scoffed. “We met years ago in a bar. I was there with my friends. You and your gang were playing pool. We asked you to keep it down, and you sucker-punched me.”

It took Ax a moment to remember. Fucking hell, that douchebag was Carlos? He’d been at Spur’s with Rider and Buck. They were playing pool when a group of assholes asked them to tone it down. Buck told them to fuck off. Carlos—as he now recalled—started mouthing off about the club and making fun of their cuts. Rider, the peacemaker, stepped in and told him they didn’t want any trouble. He even suggested they find a quieter place to hang. Carlos turned rabid. He called them names in Spanish and tried to get the manager involved. When that didn’t work, he threatened to kill them. It was insane. Finally, Ax had enough and shut the fucker up with a fist to the face. Carlos hit the ground and was out cold, his friends got the message loud and clear, and they carried his ass out. That was over three years ago.

“You didn’t allow me the chance to fight back,” Carlos said, “so, I found another way.”

Ax didn’t get it. What did any of this have to do with Sage?

Carlos smiled. As if reading Ax’s mind, he said, “I saw you with her. You were walking on South Congress with your arm around her shoulders and hers around your waist. You looked so happy and in love. I thought to myself, how does a man such as this, a man with no morals, who attacks others for no reason, get a woman like that? I decided to follow you, and that is when I came up with the idea to take her from you. Of course, I did not realize she had a child, but I would say it worked out rather well, wouldn’t you?”

Ax lunged for him. “They were innocent, you motherfucker!” He made it three steps when something hard smashed into the side of his head. His vision tunneled. Spots danced before his eyes as he dropped to one knee. It took him several blinks to clear them. His fingers grazed the side of his head where he was hit and came away bloody. Fuck, that hurt. Passing out now would be a bad idea. Taking