Free Kade: Santanas Cuervo MC by Kathryn Thomas Page A

tears, she eased the nose of the Jeep against the fence, then pushed it down, driving over the wire before bouncing onto the road. She turned left and drove south as fast as she could, her Jeep shaking and jittering down the rough dirt road.
     
    ***
     
    Kade pulled to a stop beside the pump and dismounted, grumbling to himself about having to stop for fuel yet again. As he filled the thirsty Harley he checked his phone. He’d missed a call and there was a message waiting. He smiled when he saw who it was from, but as he played the message his smile faded. He checked the time. The message had been left forty minutes ago.
     
    He quickly pressed dial, his phone automatically calling the last number. “Winter! Are you okay? Where are you? What happened?”
     
    She whimpered. “I’m at the recording truck. I didn’t know where else to go.”
     
    “Wait right there! Don’t move! I’ll be there in thirty minutes!” he hung up then immediately dialed Bickers.
     
    “Bickers. Winter was attacked again. Tryst and Dugger are dead. Get everyone you can find to the recording truck pronto!” He hung up without waiting for a response, shoved the nozzle back into the pump, and cranked his hog to life. The minute it started he kicked the bike into gear and twisted the throttle hard, roaring out of fuel station, the Harley thundering as he called on the bike for everything it had to give him.
     
    ***
     
    Thirty-five minutes later, Kade skidded to a stop by the recording truck. He’d ridden irresponsibly fast, pushing the bike to its limit while on pavement, then riding as fast as he dared once he hit dirt roads. Winter and Jill were waiting for him as he burst through the door into the truck.
     
    “I’m so sorry,” Winter said, looking miserable.
     
    “Are you okay?” he asked.
     
    She nodded, but she didn’t look okay. He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug and held her as she began to cry again. “They got out of the Jeep,” she said between her sobs. “They got out to try to stop the truck and sent me on. They knew they were going to die, but they got out anyway.”
     
    He pursed his lips, bottling up his emotions. It would do her no good for him to rage at the unfairness of it. He’d asked these men to protect her, thinking it would be easy money. Now two of his brothers were dead.
     
    “Shhh…” he said, holding her tight. “We knew this might happen,” he lied.
     
    He held her, rocking her softly until her tears gradually stopped and he heard the distant thunder of approaching Harleys. She stepped back and dried her eyes, waiting until the phalanx of Santanás Cuervos arrived.
     
    “Let’s get you home,” Kade said softly, escorting her out of the recorder truck and to the Jeep. The Wrangler looked like warmed over hell. It had several bullet holes in it, the front and rear glass were spider-webbed and holed, the rear was caved in while every other body panel was bent and scratched, and there was a healthy smear of blood on the front seat and driver’s door.
     
    Kade ushered Winter into the passenger seat, then walked up to Bickers as the Santanás Cuerveos stopped. “I’m taking her to the RV. She’s pretty shaken up.”
     
    Bickers nodded but said nothing. Kade turned away and got behind the wheel of the Wrangler, the thirteen members of the club riding in formation, six in front, seven in the rear.
     
    As they were driving, Winter’s phone rang. She pulled it out and glanced at the number. It was Kevin, one of the drillers, and she wondered why he was calling. He was the first person she called after she gathered her wits, to make sure Bruce was okay. “Kevin? Everything okay?”
     
    “Winter? It’s Tryst. Are you okay?”
     
    “Tryst?” she cried, so glad to hear his voice she began to cry as she looked at Kade. “Thank God! I thought you were dead. How’s Dugger?”
     
    “He didn’t make it. Are you okay?”
     
    Her rush of euphoria vanished in an instant and she