When we heard a motorboat fast approaching in our direction a few minutes later, Jude stiffened and assessed the situation. “Christ, hope they see us.”

“We’re in plain sight; they’ve got to,” I said, panic rising in my chest.

They were cutting it close, however, so Jude took his paddle to the water and began retreating toward shore.

“Inexperienced drivers can make mistakes,” he said above the roar of the boat’s engine. “Better to be safe. Start heading back.”

I was closer to the coastline so I rose on my knees to row ashore. But I felt like I was only treading water, so I stood up, thinking I’d gain better traction.

And then it was if everything happened in slow motion. The speedboat decelerated before barely clipping Jude, a wall of water spraying in our faces.

“You could’ve fucking killed us,” I yelled at the top of my lungs as my pulse hammered in my veins. Unexpectedly two large men jumped down from the boat into the shallow water and surrounded Jude’s board.

One of them was holding a gun and the next thing I remembered was him pointing it at Jude’s head. My heart jackhammered in my chest and my feet became unsteady from the boat’s wake as well as my inexperience on the board.

Then suddenly my feet slipped sideways and down I went, my head cracking on the fiberglass edge. I fell beneath the waves and could feel the cool liquid rushing my lungs. My hands fumbled for the side of the board and finally found purchase.

When I pulled myself up, I fell forward on the board, my hands groping the sides, struggling to hang on.

I attempted to lift my splitting head but everything looked spotted and fuzzy.

“Jude!” was all I managed to force out but the boat had already motored away.

My brain was thudding loudly in my head as I weakly clung onto the board. I felt something warm trickling down my neck and realized it was blood. I didn’t know how long I lay there before I finally managed to propel myself to shore.

As I got closer to the kayak launch, I began yelling for Smoke, having no clue if he was anywhere around.

I heard his motor in the distance and then he came running, darting into the water, and pulling me to shore.

“Holy fuck, what happened?”

“They got him,” I said, groaning because my head felt like it was splitting in two.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he growled. “Where’s Jude?”

“It was a speedboat.” I crawled the rest of the way out of the water on my hands and knees. “Two men. One had a gun.”

“Fuck!”

I vomited in the rocks and sank down on the uneven surface. Then everything went black.

Chapter Thirty-four

I woke up in a strange bed in a darkened room. I tried to lift up on my elbow but my aching head wouldn’t allow it. The room tilted at a nauseating angle and my body sank back down like a lead weight.

I rolled to the side and dry heaved over the bed. Where the fuck was I and what the hell was happening?

I could hear voices, so I clamped my lips shut. Warm bile suspended at the back of my throat as I attempted to listen.

“Fuck, I never considered the water,” the voice said, and it sounded strangely familiar.

Water? Then I remember what happened. Jude. The boat. My stomach roiled and I moaned.

“What do they want, Mal?” another voice now asked.

Mal. The president of the Disciples of the Road. I was with the MC club.

Smoke had helped me from the water. I was safe. But Jude wasn’t.

My muscles throbbed and my chest ached. This could not be happening.

“They know we have something on them,” he said. “They say they’ll give up the kid if we destroy the evidence.”

Jude was still alive. The relief was so immediate that my head lolled to the side.

“What do the feds say?” Smoke asked.

“Not the feds’ business,” another voice said. “This is club business.”

“If we destroy the evidence, we’ll be even?” Smoke asked, urgency in his voice. “The boy will be left alone?”

“You grow fond of him or something?” the other club member said, chuckling.

“Fuck you,” Smoke said. “He’s a good kid, had a shit life, and deserves something decent.”

And then I remembered all the conversations Jude and I had about his stepfather.

I tried to move again and groaned loudly. “Damn it.”

The door slipped open permitting a shard of light that nearly blinded me.

“You’re awake,” Smoke said. “Get him some water.”

“Where is he?” I asked, trying to get some answers.

“We’re working on it, kid.” The voice came from the doorway. It was Malachi. I heard a whimper and my gaze zoomed across the room. Chopper had been sleeping on the couch and was beginning to stir.

“Where are we?” I said, squinting into the light coming from the hallway.

“Somewhere safe,” Malachi said.

I peered around the room at the wood-paneled walls and floors to match. It seemed like some kind of cabin.

Chopper jumped on the bed, sniffed and licked my face, before sinking down by my feet. My hand groped for his collar and I scratched him behind the ears. It felt good to have him there. A little piece of something that belonged to both Jude and me.

Then I remembered Ace and Patch. “My dogs.”

“Vaughn’s got it covered,” Smoke said.

Another recruit I’d sometimes seen with Smoke brought me a glass of water with some pills.