Chapter 14
Cruz
If you’d told me a month ago that I’d be sharing Sloane with Rook and Boone—and actually be good with it—I would’ve laughed in your face.
Not because we haven’t shared before, we have, but not like this with someone who gets under your skin and stays there.
Not with someone who makes it feel less like a good time and more like a commitment, something solid and real.
I didn’t picture Sloane as the kind of woman who would be into a setup like this, but then she isn’t like any of the women we’ve shared before either, and this isn’t a casual fling.
Which makes the whole situation uncharted territory, dangerous in a whole different way than what we’re used to.
In the three days since we hooked up with Sloane, we can’t keep our hands off of her.
It’s been incredible, but we also need to resume club business; we can’t hide away in our blissful bubble forever.
Rook hasn’t fully forgiven me, but he’s slowly trusting me again.
At least that’s what I’m choosing to believe since he’s assigned me to guard duty today for Jessy.
I roll the throttle as the bike eats up the road, engine vibrating steadily between my legs, wind cutting past my jacket, clearing just enough of my head to keep me focused.
Jessy’s school is ten minutes out, and I’m late for the rotation thanks to a block of traffic that held me up for five minutes.
After what happened with the marshals, after the bomb—and especially after Sloane went to Briggs’ office, we don’t take chances.
There’s always someone watching, someone close, Rook’s orders.
We’re only too happy to obey. Jessy has ingrained herself into the heart of the club, and we’d all gladly take a bullet for her.
I slow as I approach the street, scanning automatically.
It’s the middle of the day, the kids are outside playing during their lunchtime recess, and the only cars in the parking lot belong to the faculty.
I pull into a spot across from the school and cut the engine, letting the sudden quiet settle around me.
Kids’ voices drift from the playground, bright and carefree.
A bird sings overhead in the large oak tree that dominates the front lot.
I swing off the bike and pull off my helmet, running a hand through my hair as I scan the playground again.
A group of teachers stands chatting at the edges, more focused on gossip than on watching the kids who race around the playground, hollering and whooping as they tag each other and swing from the monkey bars.
Everything looks fine, and for a fraction of a second, I let myself relax.
But then it all goes wrong. I know something’s off before anyone says anything—the energy shifts.
The air stills, the wind that had been softly swaying the leaves in the trees drops, heavy and thick.
Something’s wrong, I know it in my gut as the voices change, becoming loud and urgent.
I straighten, already running across the asphalt toward the frantic teachers before my brain fully catches up.
“What’s going on?” I call as I swing open the playground gate.
A teacher turns, her face pale. “We—we can’t find her—”
Everything inside me goes still. “Who?” I ask, but with sickening certainty, I already know.
“Jessy,” she says, voice shaking. “She was just here—she was just—”
No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not now, not when we’ve been so careful.
“How long?” I demand, stepping closer, scanning the playground, every corner, every blind spot.
“I—I don’t know—two minutes—maybe—” She clutches the beads of her necklace, expression pained as she realizes the implications of what’s happened. They all knew they needed to keep a more watchful eye on Jessy, but they didn’t, and now she’s gone.
Two minutes. That’s all it takes. They know this.
Lone perverts have kidnapped children just as easily, and we’re facing an organized crime syndicate.
Rage bubbles beneath my calm exterior. I want to spit and foam, to lose control and make them understand how badly they fucked up, but it won’t help find Jessy. I need to keep my cool.
“Where were the guards?” I snap.
A man steps forward, one of ours, Gearhead. He looks like he already knows he’s screwed. “I stepped away for just a second,” he says helplessly, his voice filled with anguish as he runs his hand through his hair, removing his bandana and wringing it in his hands.
My vision sharpens. “You stepped away,” I hiss, moving closer to Gearhead, fists curled tightly.
He backs away from me, hands held up in surrender or defense. “Only for a minute—”
“You had one fucking job,” I say, voice dropping low enough that it cuts more sharply than if I were yelling.
“I know—”
“You don’t,” I snap, stepping into his space. “Because if you did, Jessy would still be here.”
He hangs his head in defeat, and I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard.
Rook’s gonna tear him a new one. The teachers have all ushered the children inside, fearful that a prowler is out there ready to snatch another.
With the playground empty save for our men and a few remaining teachers, it’s now silent.
The kind of silence that presses in on your ears, like being underwater.
I drag a breath through my lungs, forcing myself to think. “Tell me exactly what happened,” I say. There’s no room for error now. If we’re quick enough, perhaps I can find her.
“She was on the climbing frame,” he says. “I went into the woods a little way for a leak, only turned my back for a moment. When I looked back, she was gone. There was no scream. No noise at all, like she simply vanished into thin air.”
Gearhead points to where he went, the dense woods along the left side of the property.
The other side of them is the main town.
The climbing frame Jessy was on is near the back of the playground, by a fence that leads onto a small wooded area, with a main road behind it.
Someone must have been waiting for the opportunity to strike, hidden among the trees. This was professional and clean.
“Did you see any cars?” I ask. With the woods hiding the road, it’s unlikely, but they’ve likely been circling the school, scoping out vantage points for days.
Gearhead shakes his head, looking as if he wishes he had positive news. “Didn’t see anything. No unusual cars or people.”
I turn to the teacher now, hoping she might have something useful. “Did you see anyone lingering in the woods? Or notice anyone unusual recently hanging around the school gates.”
“I couldn’t say for sure. There are always too many parents at pickups, parents of kids I don’t teach. I don’t know all their faces, but no one seemed suspicious. This is a safe neighborhood.” She sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself than me.
“Tell that to Jessy’s mom,” I mutter.
I turn, scanning the perimeter again, eyes catching on every exit point, every place someone could’ve slipped through unnoticed, as I head over to the most likely spot the man was hiding.
My eyes land on something small on the ground near the fence, so small and the same color as the grass that I almost miss it.
My stomach drops as I crouch down to pick it up.
It’s a toy dinosaur, the kind you can find in a dollar store.
It’s not one of Jessy’s, she’s shown me her collection a dozen times.
Which means the kidnapper used it to lure her close enough to grab her.
Jessy’s no fool, but the temptation to rehome an abandoned dinosaur would be too much to resist.
The cheap plastic toy confirms what I already know. This isn’t random. Jessy’s kidnapper planned it and moved fast.
My chest tightens, something cold and sharp sliding under my ribs. “Did anyone see anything at all?” I plead, desperate now as I look out over the handful of anxious faces gathered.
No one answers, because no one knows.
“Think,” I press, voice harder now. “Anything. Anyone. A car. A face—”
But there’s nothing. Just shaking heads and the overwhelming, oppressive feeling of fear and regret. My own included, I was too late, if I’d gotten here sooner… But I can’t let myself dwell on that now. I straighten, already moving back toward my bike.
I jump on the bike, engine roaring to life as I take off down the street, picking a direction based on instinct and probability.
The road that leads out back, away from the town, the fastest, remotest route out, the route I would take if I were them.
I push the throttle harder, eyes watering as the wind tears past me, the world blurring at the edges as I scan every street, every car, every alley for a sign of Jessy.
With crushing disappointment, I see nothing. Nothing looks wrong or out of place. People are going about their normal lives, strolling down the street with dogs, moms pushing babies in strollers, cars cruising past, and joggers bobbing along with earphones in. Everything is exactly as it should be.
I circle wider, then wider again, but there’s still no sign of Jessy.
Panic starts to creep in, slow and insidious.
Right now, I’ve got nothing, and I don’t like to lose.
I don’t miss things, but I’ve got nothing.
I double back toward the school, scanning again.
That’s when I see it. Something green near the curb on the road at the back of the school.
I stop hard, jump off the bike, and grab it.
It’s Jessy’s dinosaur plushie, the one she carries everywhere and never lets go.
It’s lying in the dirt, abandoned, which tells me everything I need to know.
This must be where they forced her into a vehicle.
She must have dropped it in a struggle, or perhaps on purpose, leaving behind a trail of breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel.
Boone just read that story to her the other night.
My grip tightens around the toy. The one thing that might have brought a little girl comfort in a terrifying situation. “Fuck.”
I look up and down the street again. But of course, the car is long gone.
I don’t have a move. I don’t have a lead.
I don’t have anything except the sick, sinking feeling in my gut that we just lost the only thing that matters, the one precious thing Sloane trusted us to protect.
I climb back onto the bike, heart heavy with defeat. There’s only one place to go now.
The ride back to the clubhouse is a blur. I ride faster than I should, harder, breaking all of the speed limits. I need to get there as fast as I can. The sooner we can come up with a plan, rally our forces, and attack, the greater our chance of getting Jessy back safely.
I already know that the news I’m about to deliver is going to crush Sloane, that I’m going to be responsible for causing her pain, and there’s no way to make it better. No way to soften the blow or fix things, no promises I can make. I’m utterly helpless, and I hate it.
I tear into the compound, gravel spitting under the tires as I cut the engine and swing off. My abrupt arrival already has the clubhouse on high alert. I’m halfway to the door when it swings open, and Rook appears with Boone close behind. Sloane’s anxious face peers from behind him.
The second she sees me, she knows. I see it happen, her mother’s instinct hitting her like a freight train as she realizes what’s happened before her brain’s fully caught up. Her face goes slack with horror.
She stands motionless, as if moving might force her fears into reality. “Where is she?” she asks, ripping the band-aid off, cutting straight to the heart of the matter and asking the only question that matters.
I freeze, feeling the most helpless and useless I’ve ever felt. I don’t have an answer, don’t have any words of comfort or anything to say that could make the truth any less horrific.
My chest tightens, grip clenching around the plush dinosaur still in my hand. Sloane’s eyes land on the plushie, and she finally cracks, a slow wail slipping from her lips as her legs buckle. Boone catches her, holding her close as the words that break her heart fall from my mouth.
“They took her.”
Watching Sloane crumble is devastating. She howls like a wounded animal, reaching out for the plushie which I hand over numbly, she clutches it to her chest, holding it close, knuckles white as she struggles to catch her breath.
I want to hold her close, to promise I will do everything I can to get Jessy back, but the promise feels hollow. I couldn’t keep my promise to protect her, so what comfort would my words offer to Sloane now? Boone and Rook step in, offering what I cannot give, while I stand there hopelessly.
I’ve never felt like I failed harder than I do right now.