Free Biker Stepbrother - Part Two by Rossi St. James

One – GRAY
     
    “Her name is Eve. Why the fuck do you keep calling her Everly?” the pretty boy who’d lured me away from my hotel said, his eyes scrunched and his fidgeting body movements borderline psychotic.
    Hours before Everly was set to arrive at my hotel so we could leave town, I received a call to my room. Some guy saying he had her and that he’d only set her free in exchange for me.
    I never wanted Everly to get hurt, and I sure as hell didn’t want her involved with any of my people. Sacrificing myself wasn’t even a question.
    “Exit through the lobby. Walk to a gray SUV parked in the back of the building. Get in the back. Say nothing,” the man had carefully instructed before hanging up.
    I’d left my door cocked open on the off chance that these people didn’t really have her. Hell Valley MC was dirty and resourceful, and there were no limits as to what they’d do or say to get what they wanted. But on the off chance they really did have her, I couldn’t sit back and play a game of chicken with them.
    My heart drummed steadily in my chest as I left the lobby as instructed, and a wave of relief washed over me when I saw the gray SUV was a Land Rover. No rough and tumble hog hugger would ever be caught dead in that shit.
    I climbed in the back only to be met with three pairs of eyes belonging to the fanciest pretty boys I’d ever seen. Silk suits, shiny watches, and expensive, chromed out sunglasses mixed with a sickening combination of pricey cologne told me exactly who I was dealing with. I stifled the shit-eating grin that wanted to consume my face in that moment and kept a solemn expression.
    “Dalton. Warehouse,” the guy in the back, sitting next to me, instructed to the driver. Apparently I was seated right next to the mastermind of the operation. His voice matched the guy on the phone earlier.
    I glanced down towards his lap when a black, shiny thing caught the glint of the streetlight above. He was pointing a gun towards me, and judging by how perfect and shiny it was, he’d probably never even shot it before.
    “Mind telling me what’s going on?” I asked him.
    The man to my left held hate in his blue eyes as his jaw clenched. “Shut up. You won’t be asking the questions, fleabag.”
    A pompous chuckle from one of the guys in front instantly took me back to my younger days when I’d have clocked someone for calling me or anyone I loved some sort of name. Those three weren’t much different than the rich assholes who used to run my school until I clocked them all after school one day. They left me alone after that. I’d have clocked those dicks right then and there had the one not been pointing a peashooter at me.
    They pulled into an alley where a private entrance to the back of a warehouse stood not more than four feet away. Streetlights illuminated the alley just enough.
    The guy next to me nodded toward it and motioned with his gun as the front passenger hopped out and swiped a keycard to unlock the door. “Follow him. No sudden moves. Don’t act strange.”
    I peered around. Security cameras everywhere. These guys were nothing but a bunch of amateurs. Hell Valley MC never would’ve trusted them to handle their business. I breathed easy for a second, until I entered the building. An empty gray room with cinderblock walls and a single metal folding chair sat front and center.
    “Sit down, you piece of shit,” the guy with the gun instructed. As I stood next to him, I noted that I was a good six inches taller. I could crush him like a bug if I wanted. Choosing to stay calm for Everly’s sake, I did as I was told.
    “Dalton. Duct tape,” the guy said.
    Dalton produced a brand new roll of duct tape and began securing my feet to the legs of the chair. I pressed my heels into the metal, giving him the illusion that he was securing me well, but I had plenty of slack.
    “Hands,” Dalton said. I widened my shoulders and placed my hands in my lap, keeping my wrists together