Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Any word?” I ask Rage, who shakes his head no.
“Half the brothers haven’t shown. You want to get someone to chase the motherfuckers down?” I ask, barely containing the fire raging inside me.
“A lot of property damage from the storm. Trees blocking roads and shit. They’ll be here, Prez.”
The contents of the bag splayed out on the church table forces blood to roar in my head.
“Ice took prints. He’s with his uncle for access to the database.”
I run my gaze over the contents: zip ties, gags, an array of knives. Sick bastard. A small hunting knife draws my attention. I pick up the small blade I gave Drew on her thirteenth birthday. My jaw flexes. Every muscle ripples under my skin. “It’s one of us,” I choke out, the room spinning.
“What?” Rage jerks his head forward like he didn’t hear me right.
“This bastard is one of us.” I hold up the knife up. “This is Drew’s. She left it here eight years ago. In my room.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
“No way. I know every one of these guys. They’re our brothers.”
“So was Mitch,” I growl. Drew, Drew, Drew. “What if whoever it is took her?” I exhale, the realization of that being a possibility hitting me like a ton of bricks.
“Who was here last night?”
“Just stragglers—mostly prospects at the club when the sirens went off.”
“We need to call everyone in. This motherfucker was injured—we look for a fucking injury.” Rage slams his fist on the table. “If it is one of ours…”
“He has to go to ground,” I finish for him.
“She will come home, sweetie,” Jackie coos when I walk into the bar, staring at the packed room full of brothers all waiting for their leader to give them some fucking news. I have none. Drew isn’t home, and everyone who showed was checked for injury—nothing. The few brothers who haven’t made it in were sent out on business or dealing with personal shit. Mason called to say Heidi’s waters broke. Halo was with him for some reason. Kai was doing a job for me and said he got stuck outta town because of the storm. That left Hog—who was supposed to be in rehab.
“Prez, what’s going on?” someone calls out.
“It’s looking likely that the serial killer terrorizing our city is closer to home. Broke into Jameson’s ol lady’s house last night,” I tell the brothers gathered together awaiting instruction.
An array of whispers and grunts fill the air. “He got injured and left a blood trail, which is being followed. In the meantime, Drew vanished of the face of the earth. Cameras were knocked out by the storm. All we know is she was here—then she wasn’t. I want everyone out on the streets, clubs, every corner of this city. I need her found.”
The room thins out as motorcycles roar to life outside. I want to be out there with them, but what if she comes back and I’m not here?
“You want a drink?” Amy calls from behind the bar.
“No. I need to keep my head clear.”
My cell lights up with a call from Copper. “Talk to me.”
“I’m ten minutes away. You at the club?”
“Yeah.”
“See you in ten. Prepare yourself a stiff fucking drink.”
Great.
Jameson and Rage sit beside me, waiting for Copper to arrive and spill his guts. “Where’s Gracie?” Rage pipes up, looking over to the bar where she usually is.
“Was she not with you last night?” I ask.
He pulls out his phone, shooting off a text to her. “Nah. She went to check on her mother’s house.”
“He’s here.” Rage lifts his head to Copper walking across the room. He’s suited and booted, carrying a fucking computer bag—nothing like the rough biker here the other night.
He slips into the seat opposite me, a grimace on his face.
“So?” I ask.
“The blood lab is taking too long, but I got Drew’s phone records sent over and pulled some surveillance tapes from a store on the corner of Ms. Monroe’s street, taken before the storm interfered with the signal.”
Thick saliva coats the back of my throat, making it difficult to swallow. My eyes train on his lips, waiting for the words to come out. He slides over a sheet of paper with numbers and times, and Rage snatches it up. “Gracie was who called her.”
“Maybe she was in trouble?” Jameson offers. Rage brings his phone to his ear, calling Gracie. No answer.
“Fuck.”
Copper pulls a laptop out and starts it up. “You need to see this.”
“Is it one of mine?” I ask, wanting to bring the world down around the motherfuckers feet if it is. We’re a fucking brotherhood. How dare whoever the fuck betray that.
“I recognized him right away. He came with us to take out the Demons.”
I want to claw at my skin and roar until the foundations tremble and my girl is back in my arms.