Chapter 20
STONE
Two minutes, she said. I’m counting.
There’s a roar from the rally outside, loud enough to draw the attention of those outside and temporarily drown out the chatter around me.
I glance over my shoulder, catching sight of Duck back on the stage, doing what looks like a line dance.
Of course he is.
I turn back, resuming my counting.
At ninety seconds, the lights flicker and die. The barista swears, fumbling for her phone.
“Sorry—old wiring. Happens sometimes when the square’s pulling extra power for events—”
But the cold is already spreading through my chest. That instinct that’s kept me alive for twenty years.
Where the fuck is Josie?
“Josie?” I call toward the hallway.
No answer.
I’m moving before the barista can finish her explanation, shoving past the counter into the dark corridor. Emergency lighting flickers on—dim red, barely enough to see by.
The bathroom door is ajar.
I push through, gun already in my hand. Empty. Three stalls, all empty, a tote bag abandoned on the wet floor.
Not Josie’s.
I kick through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door at the end of the hall, and in three strides burst into the back alley—
Empty. Nothing but overflowing dumpsters and the distant screech of tires.
A woman is slumped against the alley wall, groaning, just coming to.
“What happened?” I crouch beside her, fighting to keep my voice steady. “There was another woman—brown hair, early forties—”
“Men,” she mumbles, her eyes unfocused. “Men grabbed me. They grabbed her. They—” She starts crying.
My world narrows to a single, crystalline point of focus.
They took her.
They took my woman.
I let her out of my sight for less than three fucking minutes .
I hit call on my phone, and Hawk picks up instantly. “Prez? What’s—”
“She’s gone.” The words come out strange. Hollow. “They’ve got Josie.”
“Rally the brothers.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. “Get everyone to the clubhouse. Now.”
“Stone—”
“NOW.”
Less than a half-hour later, the entire club is at the barracks, the lot locked down tighter than a fucking safe.
The Chapel has never felt more like a war room.
Every brother is present, called in from wherever they were, faces grim and ready.
Steel and Bones have three laptops running, tracking every camera feed in the county.
Tank is on the phone with our contacts in the sheriff’s department.
Lee stands beside me, silent and solid, the only thing keeping me from putting my fist through a wall.
I can’t stop moving.
I pace the length of the table, then back again. My fingers rake through my hair for the tenth time in as many minutes. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, vibrating with the kind of energy that has nowhere to go. My jaw aches from clenching it.
Where is she?
The question loops in my head like a broken record. I’ve faced down cartels, corrupt cops, federal agents. I’ve made decisions that could’ve gotten my brothers killed and slept fine afterward. But this—not knowing where Josie is, what they’re doing to her, whether she’s even still—
No. I shut that thought down hard.
She’s alive. She has to be alive.
“Stone.” Lee’s voice is low, steady. “Sit down. You’re making everyone nervous.”
“I can’t fucking sit down.”
He doesn’t push. He knows better.
The clock on the wall ticks. Every second feels like an hour. Every minute she’s out there is another minute I’m failing her.
“We’ve got a location.” Steel looks up from his screens, and my whole body snaps toward him. “The SUV went to the old textile warehouse on Route 9. Same place Caruso’s been running his operation.”
“That’s where the FBI raid is supposed to hit tonight,” Hawk says.
“Then we move the timeline up.” I pace the length of the room, mind racing. “Steel, get Agent Pilkin on the line. We need federal backup now, not in six hours.”
“Already calling.”
“What about going in ourselves?” Tank asks. “We’ve got the firepower. We know the layout.”
“And they know we’re coming.” Lee points out. “They took Josie specifically to draw us out. If we go in blind, we’re walking into an ambush.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. But every second Josie is in their hands is a second too long.
I should never have let her go alone. Should have checked the bathroom and hall first. Should have—
“Dad.” Lee’s hand lands on my shoulder, grounding me. “Stay focused. We’ll get her back.”
I nod, shoving the guilt down deep where it can’t distract me. There’ll be time for self-recrimination later. Right now, Josie needs me sharp.
“Pilkin’s on line two,” Steel calls out.
I grab the phone. “They’ve got Josie.”
“I know. We intercepted their communications five minutes ago.” Her voice is clipped, professional, but I hear the urgency underneath. “They’re holding her at the warehouse, using her as leverage. They’ll want to know what evidence we have on them.”
“She won’t tell them anything.”
“No. She won’t.” A pause. “Which means they’ll escalate. We need to move fast.”
The word escalate hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
I know what that means. I’ve seen what men like Caruso do to people who won’t talk. The images flash through my mind unbidden—Josie’s face, her hands, her body broken and bloody because she’s too goddamn loyal to give them what they want.
A dark and primal rage claws its way up from the pit of my stomach. The kind that makes men do terrible things.
Anyone who touches her dies.
It’s not a threat. It’s not even a decision. It’s a fact, as certain as gravity. If there’s a single mark on her, a single bruise, I will burn that warehouse to the ground with everyone inside. FBI raid be damned. Consequences be damned. They will learn what happens when you take my woman from me.
Lee’s hand lands on my shoulder—grounding, steadying. He sees it in my face. They all do.
I force myself to breathe.
“How fast can you get your teams in position?”
“Two hours. Maybe less if I pull some strings.”
“Make it less.” I grip the phone so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. “Whatever strings you need to pull, pull them. That’s my woman in there.”
“I understand. Stone. We’re going to get her back.”
“Damn right we are.”
I hang up and turn to face my brothers.
“Two hours. FBI takes point on the assault. We’ll provide perimeter support, make sure no one gets out.
” I meet each of their eyes in turn. “This isn’t about Summit anymore.
This isn’t about Caruso or the cartel or any of that shit.
This is about family. They took one of ours, and we’re getting her back. ”
“And if she’s hurt or…?” Hawk doesn’t finish the question
The rage I’ve been holding at bay threatens to crack through. I think about Josie—her sharp tongue, her soft heart, the way she looked at me this morning. The way she trusted me to keep her safe.
I fucking failed.
“If she’s hurt,” I say, my voice deadly calm, “then God help whoever touched her. Because I won’t.”
I dismiss the men to go do what they need to prepare for the coming battle.
Steel finds me on the roof an hour later.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, staring at nothing, running through every possible scenario in my head. Every way this could go wrong. Every way I could lose her.
The night air is cold, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is the hollow ache in my chest where certainty used to live. For fifteen years, I’ve been numb. Going through the motions. Running the club, raising my kids, keeping everyone else safe while something inside me slowly calcified into stone.
Then Josie walked into my life and cracked me wide open.
“They haven’t hurt her.” Steel says quietly. “Their comms are mostly about logistics. They’re moving product, cleaning house before the heat comes down. She’s leverage, not entertainment.”
“Yet.”
“Yet,” he agrees. “But she’s smart. She’s keeping them talking, asking questions, probably cataloging everything for the prosecution.” He almost smiles. “She’s trying to negotiate her own return.”
That’s my girl.
“The civilian?” I ask. “The woman from the alley?”
“Hawk got her checked out. She’s fine—they drugged her, but it’s wearing off. She didn’t see much, but she confirmed three men, black SUV.” Steel pauses. “They planned this, Stone. They knew exactly when and where to grab her.”
“Someone’s been watching us.”
“Looks like it.”
I file that away for later. Right now, it doesn’t matter how they knew. What matters is getting Josie back.
“Steel.” I turn to face him. “When we go in, I need you in a sniper position. Overwatch. If things go sideways—”
“I’ll have the shot.” He says it without hesitation. “Whatever it takes to get her out.”
“You’re still a prospect. This isn’t your fight.”
“Bullshit.” His jaw sets, and I see the man he’s becoming. “She’s one of us. That makes it my fight. And I’m the best shot in the club—we both know it. Put me where I can do the most damage.”
I study him for a long moment. The beard. The glasses. The quiet competence that’s replaced his early uncertainty. The women call him Fairy Floss, and he lets them, because he’s secure enough in himself not to care. But I’ve seen him on the range. I know what he’s capable of.
“Northeast corner of the building next door. You’ll have sight-lines on both the main entrance and the loading dock.”
“I’ll be there.”
He turns to go, then stops.
“Stone. We’re going to get her back.”
“I know.”
But as I watch him leave, I make myself a promise.
If anything happens to Josie—if they’ve touched her, hurt her, done anything to dim the light in her eyes—there won’t be a force on earth that’ll stop me from burning their world to ashes.
I let her out of my sight, and they took her.
I’ll never forgive myself for that.
But first, I’m going to get her back. And then I’m going to make them pay.
Every. Single. Fucking. One.