Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Saint’s phone rang, making them both jump. He yanked it out of his pocket so fast he bobbled, almost dropping it in the flood.
After a quick frown at the screen, he had at his ear. “Stillman?” he said, heart stuttering. He walked away to hear better.
“Fuck, I shouldn’t be calling you.” Fear bled through Stillman’s whispered words. “Never mind. Sorry.”
“Stillman, don’t you fucking dare hang up.”
Silence.
“You know something.”
“They have your girl,” Stillman whispered rapidly. “The one with you when you came to the barn.”
Yes. Fucking yes. A goddamn lead. “Where? Where do they have her?”
Stillman groaned. “They’ll kill me if they find out I talked.”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t. Swear to Christ, Stillman, there’s nowhere on earth you’ll be able to hide if they hurt my woman and you could have prevented it.”
Another groan. “I shouldn’t have called.”
“But you did. It’s too fucking late to pussy out now.”
“I ain’t a pussy.”
Saint knew that would get to him.
“You have five seconds before I hang up this phone and track you down. Trust me, you don’t want that to happen.”
Silence.
“Four… three… two… on—”
“Fine! Fucking fine.” He lowered his voice so Saint had to strain to hear him. “That old sawmill. You know the one.”
“The one that closed five years ago?”
“Yeah.”
Fuck yes, they had a location. He waved Copper over. “Thank you, Stillman. Text me where you are, and I’ll send someone to bring you to the clubhouse for safety.”
“Saint?”
“What?”
“She doesn’t look too good. Busted lip. Maybe worse. She got a mouth on her, man, and Demo don’t like that.”
Saint’s vision went red at the edges. In no reality would Beth sit back quietly while someone kidnapped her. Of course, she was fucking with them. Hell, knowing her, she’d probably try to protect Melody as well.
Pride surged, mixed with terror and dread.
When he got her back, he’d tie her to the bed for the rest of her life.
“I owe you, Stillman,” he said as Copper reached him.
“Nah, Demo’s a real shit heel. Deserves whatever’s coming to him. Don’t let him kill me, and we’ll be even.”
The line went dead.
Saint was already sprinting for the door. “She’s at the old sawmill.”
“For fuck’s sake, Saint. Hold the fuck up.”
He reached the door. “All due respect, Copper, I’m not fucking waiting.”
“We need a battle plan.”
Saint slipped out the door. The last thing he heard before it closed was Copper’s pounding boots and shouted, “Mount up!”
He threw a leg up and sailed onto his bike like a trick horse rider. Two seconds later, he peeled out of the lot while the rest of his club raced to their bikes, and Copper cursed him to hell and back.
Riding a motorcycle on mountain switchbacks was a skill he’d mastered after so many years of living in the Smoky Mountains. Saint took the sharp turns at a harrowing clip, burning rubber and sending a trail of smoke behind him.
His own safety never crossed his mind. All he could hear was Stillman’s warning echoing. ‘She doesn’t look too good.’
Every slam of his heart against his ribcage was a command.
Faster. Faster. Faster.
He obeyed, pushing the throttle to its limit.
Finally, he parked about half a mile away from the Sawmill, laying his bike down in the brush off the road so no one would see or hear him coming. Then he set off on foot, running as fast as he could in fucking jeans and boots in the middle of the summer.
After thirty seconds, sweat poured down his face, soaking into his T-shirt. The salt burned his eyes, but he didn’t give a fuck. All he could think of was getting to Beth and murdering Demo.
He slowed as he approached, moving off the road into the woods for the final trek in case they’d installed cameras at the old sawmill.
Each step brought him closer to Beth. Closer to wrapping his hands around Demo’s throat and feeling the cartilage crush beneath his fingers.
Someone latched onto the back of his T-shirt and yanked… hard.
“The fuck?” He whirled around, fists curled and up, blocking his face for the incoming attack. “Thunder? How the fuck are you here?”
Thunder smirked and wiggled his phone in Saint’s face. “Copper texted. Told me you went half-cocked. You know Mak and I live about a mile from here.”
Right. He hadn’t been thinking of anything but getting there.
“Whatever. I’m going in to get Beth.”
His brother-in-law’s smirk disappeared. “No, the fuck you’re not. Not until backup arrives. They’re about two minutes out on foot, like you.”
“I’m not waiting.” He gestured toward the sawmill. “Beth is in there, and I don’t know what they’re doing to her.”
Thunder grabbed his shoulders. “Look at me.” He shook Saint hard. “Look at me, asshole.”
He met Thunder’s gaze. “Mak was right. You love her, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He’d never hit his brother-in-law, but there was a first time for everything, and if he didn’t get the fuck out of Saint’s way, he’d take a punch to the face in the next ten seconds.
Thunder’s expression was dead serious. “Then wait two fucking minutes to give her the best chance to get out of there. You know going in alone is stupid.”
“Fuck.” Goddammit, Thunder was right.
Saint rubbed his arm. He wasn’t itchy or cold, but every nerve felt raw and on fire. “I’m crawling out of my skin, man. Never felt like this before.”
Thunder nodded. “Hope you never have to feel it again.” Thunder knew what it was to worry for his woman’s life. Years ago, Makenna almost died at the hands of their psychotic father. No doubt, Thunder would never forget the stark fear in the moments before he had Mak back in his arms.
The crunching of leaves had them both looking in the direction Saint came from.
“Cavalry has arrived,” Thunder said, slapping Saint’s back. “Let’s get your ol’ lady back.”
Ol’ lady.
Fuck, that sounded good.