Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The wind plasters my clothes to me as I pin the throttle on the Sportster, leaving the compound lights in a blur behind me.
Fury has long since passed. Rage is my blood. My oxygen. It’s boiling inside of me, cracking open any decency I had left inside of me.
Some mother-fucker came into our compound and took my woman.
Stole her right out from under watch.
I failed her. Fuck. I shouldn’t have left to talk to Prez. I should have made him come to me. Or taken her with me.
Now she’s gone. The road is one long gray blur in front of the headlights as I squint, searching for the taillights of the van that holds the only thing that will save my sanity.
Gigi has to be here. This road has no turn-offs. No intersecting roads for twenty miles.
With the sawed-off shotgun wedged under my thigh, I plan my revenge. Slow. Painful, bloody carnage. It’s the only way I keep my mind from shattering.
Inside my jeans pocket my phone is vibrating all to fuck, but I have one mission—find the van. Get her back. Nothing is getting in my way.
Curve after curve passes, my hands growing tighter on the bars, the engine screaming for all it’s worth.
Ten miles down. Fuck. Ten more to go. I have to catch the van before it hits the four-way.
Gritting my teeth, I curse. “Motherfucker, you are not getting away with my woman. Where are you?!?”
And as if the devil himself heard my demand, in the next second, I spot red taillights beyond the next curve, flickering through the pines.
God. Yes! Come on.
I lean into the wind, pushing the bike as hard as it will go. The distance closes quick. I catch up to the van faster than I expect, almost like it’s not… moving.
A new wave of horror slams into me. If he stopped on out here in the middle of BFE to touch my woman, I’m going to lose my shit so bad they won’t find his carcass for a goddamned eon.
But when I realize the van is wrecked, I yell like a wounded beast. My exploding heart tries to exit my body.
“Gigi!” I roar, hurling myself off the bike as it falls to the ground.
The van’s impact wasn’t bad, but the radiator was busted. They must have slowed before hitting the trees.
The back door is locked. I grab the driver’s door, jerking it open, lunging back when a big, bearded motherfucker falls out.
A Kings of Darkness T-shirt is around his neck like a scarf.
Blue-faced, his eyes are bulging, his tongue is hanging out. The way a person who has been choked looks.
“Oh god, baby. Did you kill this asshole? I’m so proud of you!”
Stepping over him, I hit the lock button to open the other doors expecting to find her tied up in the back.
The van is empty. “No, goddammit!” I bellow, my voice echoing inside the van.
Slamming the door. I round the van, kicking the dead bastard. “Where is my woman?”
He stares sightless at the sky and I come damned close to plugging him but I might need the ammo.
Gigi can’t be far. Someone else could have grabbed her. I have to find her fast, before they get away.
Calling Ace, I run back to the bike, dragging it up off the ground. “The van is about twelve miles out. The driver’s dead. Gigi’s gone.”
His bike is idling loudly in the background. “You’ve got six men on their way. I circled around the outside road. I’ll be coming from the other direction.”
The engine on the prospect’s bike coughs this time, making a fist squeeze my chest. “Don’t you fucking die now.”
It gives one more chug and finally turns over. Gravel flies as I tear across the shoulder, lights coming up the road from the direction I came.
Six bikes. My brothers—technically the Bad River Chapter brothers. But they came for me, to help me get Gigi back.
They drop into formation with me. The engines shake the earth. The swarm of headlights slashing the darkness.
We burn the pavement for eight miles to the four way intersection.
I motion for them to split, we cover all four directions. This is Kings of Darkness territory. We will find her.
Ace blows by me going the opposite direction on Route Thirty-one. Our brake lights ignite. He and I both turn around.
“No vehicles have been this way. I checked with one of my sources,” he says. “Hold on, I’ll check with the others.”
The report from the other bikers is bad. No one. Not one fucking car.
“Where could she be?” I rage. Then it hits me as hard as a brick to the face. “Fuck. I didn’t check the woods.”
Oh Jesus, my stomach falls all the way to hell.