Emerald SAMPLE (Black Hawk Gems Book 1)

Chapter 3

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Shooting out of bed is my first instinct as I grab my pistol from under my pillow. The 9 mm Sig was one of the first items I bought or took from my father's house after escaping from the warehouse four years ago. It's a constant reminder that I can and will protect myself when or if needed.

"Stay here," I order when I see Reece and Rosaleigh sitting up and watching me.

Playing about safety is one thing that I never do. Reece and Rosaleigh know that safety is a priority, and sadly, I've had conversations with them. They obviously didn't understand everything I told them, but it comforted me to tell them. We've had discussions on not talking to people we don't know and not opening the door. I've told them about the bad people in the world and when they ask about their father, I told them that he was a bad man.

They had many questions about why he was bad, and while I told them that he hurt me a lot, I didn't go into details.

Once they've both nodded, I slip out of the room, releasing the safety button. I move across the floor on the balls of my feet.

"Where is she?!" A deep Scottish voice roars.

That voice. My heart skips, and my breath catches in my throat. My grip falters because my hands go slick.

"Tell me," the man growls. I click the safety on, tucking my gun into the back waistband of my jeans before pushing the door. As I shuffle through the door, my heart slams into my ribcage.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Don't get your hopes up. Don't get your hopes up.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Don't get your hopes up.

Over and over, I repeat the mantra, and a second later, I slip into the living room.

A tall, red-haired man stands in my living room. The man has broad, muscled shoulders and the defined back muscles of an athlete. He looks over six feet tall with almost shoulder length disheveled red hair. He looks... familiar.

"W-Wolf?"

Saying the name makes the man turn around, and my heart squeezes.

Oh my god.

Before I can stop myself, I jump forward and wrap my arms around him. Not a second later, he wraps himself around me. I never thought I'd see him again. I never imagined...

"Angelica," he croaks.

A laugh mixed with a sob falls from my lips as I look up at him. He looks almost the same as he did years ago. His hair is a little longer. His green eyes are a little sharper than I remember, but they're the same shade of leaf green that I remember.

The only difference is that he's wearing a leather vest that bikers call a cut with a patch of a black hawk with its wings spread out. The name 'Wolf' is patched on the right front pocket space of his cut and the title 'Vice President' is patched over his heart.

"I-I thought you were d-dead," I cry, wrapping my arms back around him and burying my face in his chest. The smell of smoke, leather, and whiskey tickles my nose and causes tears to prick my eyes with the familiar stinging sensation. Wolf lifts my chin and his smile fades, eyebrows pulling down, and eyes softening when he sees the tears rolling down my cheeks.

Brushing the tears away, he murmurs, "I'm fine, lass. I've been looking for you." I blink, trying to stop the tears, and hug him. He's alive. He's here, right in front of me. He's...