Victorious, Part 3 (The LA Defiance MC #7)

Chapter One

PHOENIX

The paper bag crinkles in my hand as I balance the coffee carrier and the container of bacon and eggs I picked up from the diner down the street.

Clover had been craving bacon this morning, practically begging me to get some with those big doe eyes of hers.

The things I do for my woman. I smile as I approach our ground-floor hotel room, key card already in my hand.

She deserves all the good things.

All the sweet moments.

All the reasons to smile.

Especially after everything we’ve been through, everything we’re still dealing with back home. This trip to Vegas was supposed to be us escaping the war back home. It also meant it was our chance to figure out what we are to each other without the weight of LA Defiance breathing down our necks.

It started as a weight, like every mile we drove from home was another rip in our hearts, but the closer we drove toward Vegas, the closer we got to each other, and those rips began to meld together.

It finally made us brave enough to fight for each other, because the tension of home wasn’t so overbearing, and the oppression of the people against us was in our rearview.

Smirking at the fact that without this trip, I probably would never have had the balls to fight for Clover, I would have never been brave enough to stand up to Maverick. But somehow, now that Clover is mine, I know I would fight anyone for her.

Even her brother.

Because Clover means fucking everything to me.

Chuckling to myself, I slide the key card and push open the door, ready to tell Clover how much I adore her, but something stops me cold before I even step inside.

A white sheet is crumpled on the floor just inside our door, discarded like garbage.

My blood turns to ice, my senses suddenly in overload as I shove open the door with force. “Clover?” I call out, stepping over the sheet and into our room.

The room is too quiet.

Too still.

“Clover?” I call out, setting the food on the small table by the window.

Maybe she’s in the bathroom?

But there’s no answer.

Then suddenly, Dracula comes tearing around the corner, his usually pristine black fur disheveled, his yellow eyes wild with panic. A frantic meow escapes his mouth as he circles my legs, then races toward the door, then back to me.

My breathing quickens as I take in the state of the room, my eyes searching for clues. The lock of the room is damaged slightly, looking like there’s been a forced entry.

Fuck.

“Where is she?” I ask the damn cat, as if he can answer me. But Dracula just keeps pacing, agitated, clearly distressed.

I continue to scan the room with military precision. The bed is unmade where we left it this morning, but her side looks…

… wrong.

Disturbed in a way that speaks of a struggle rather than restless sleep.

Her phone’s on the nightstand where she always keeps it.

If she had left on her own, she absolutely would have taken it.

My woman never goes anywhere without it.

Not just because of her social media obsession, but because of her glucose tracker.

Her diabetes supplies are still on the dresser, and my eyes flick to her glucose kit.

It too is still here.

Clover never goes anywhere without her emergency supplies.

“Clover!” I shout, checking the bathroom, the closet, even under the bed, like she might be playing some fucked-up game of hide and seek.

Nothing.

My heart races frantically behind my ribs as I race around the room searching for something, anything to give me a fucking clue.

Then something catches my eye.

A glint of gold near the foot of the bed.

I kneel down, and my heart stops completely.

Her cactus wedding ring.

The delicate gold band with the tiny cactus that she swore she’d never take off. Not to shower, not to sleep, not even when we’re fucking and I’m gripping her hands above her head.

She would never take it off voluntarily.

She left this here to tell me she didn’t leave on her own.

My hands shake as I pick it up, the metal still warm like it hasn’t been off her finger long. The sight of it, abandoned, sends a primal rage coursing through my veins that threatens to tear me apart from the inside.

Some fucker took her.

Someone came into our room and took my wife while I was getting her fucking breakfast.

Panic washes over me so intensely that it hurts as my fingers rush through my hair and I begin pacing the room. “Jesus, Clo,” I mutter under my breath, my heart racing so fucking hard that if I were Clover, her watch would be going off like crazy right now.

My eyes widen as I let out a small, maniacal laugh. “Fuck! That’s it. Her watch. Please be wearing it, baby,” I mumble to myself.

I grab my phone, my fingers trembling when I dial Sin’s number.

“Phoenix? It’s early. Why are you calling me—”

“They took her,” I interrupt, my voice raw with barely contained panic.

“Someone took Clover. I left for maybe thirty minutes to get breakfast, and she’s gone.

Her cactus wedding ring is on the floor, Sin.

She would never take that off. And there was a sheet inside our door, like they wrapped her in it and dropped it when they were loading her up. ”

“Breathe,” Sin’s voice cuts through. “We’re ten minutes out. Don’t touch anything. I’ll bring some guys. We’re gonna get her back. No one fucks with Defiance on my turf.”

“Sin, if something happens to her—”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to her,” he says firmly. “We’ll find her. I promise you that, brother.”

The line goes dead, and I’m left alone with Dracula and the worst thoughts my mind can conjure.

Images of what could be happening to her right now.

What they might be doing to her right now.

I think about the Cartel connections we’ve been tracking. About Javier and his network of sick fucks who traffic women and children, turning them into assassins. About all the enemies LA Defiance has made over the years.

Any one of them could have followed us here. Could have been watching, waiting for the perfect moment when Clover was vulnerable.

When I left her alone and vulnerable.

Jesus. I’m a fucking idiot!

I pace the room like a caged animal, my hands clenched into fists, the rage building to a boiling point. Dracula has stopped his frantic pacing and now sits by the door, as if he’s waiting for backup to arrive too.

Seven minutes later, I hear the rumble of Harleys pulling up out the front of my room. I’m at the door before they even knock, yanking it open to find Sin flanked by four of his brothers—Nitro, Ghost, Mace, and Koa.

“Talk,” Sin says, pushing into the room.

“I left at seven-thirty to get breakfast from the diner down the street. Came back around eight, and she was gone.” I show them the ring and point outside.

“Found this by the bed, and there’s a sheet just inside our door like they wrapped her in it to carry her out.

She never takes this ring off, but I am pretty sure she’s wearing her smartwatch. ”

Ghost pulls out his laptop, moving to the small dining table to set up. “Smart watch? I can track that if it’s still powered on.”

Nitro examines the door and locks while Mace starts looking for any signs of a struggle.

“You see the blood?” Mace questions, his brow raised.

Wracking my jaw from side to side, it’s like I feel the color drain from my face. “I… I didn’t see it.”

Mace moves around the room, pointing out blood splatter markings. “There’s some here and here. Definitely a struggle. And the lamp has blood on it too. I’d say your girl hit someone with that. She put up a fight.”

“When I left her, she was naked…” Exhaling, I scrunch up my face. “You think they took her like that?”

Sin rubs the back of his neck. “Let’s focus on finding her, yeah?”

“The cat was freaked out when I got back,” I continue. “Like he’d been hiding. And look at him now.”

Dracula presses against Sin’s leg, seeking comfort from the one person in the room who isn’t vibrating with barely controlled violence.

“He’s scared,” Sin observes, crouching down to stroke the cat’s fur. “Animals know when something bad has happened.”

I tense all over at those damn words.

Sin thinks something bad has happened to my woman.

To my wife.

“Got it,” Ghost announces, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “Smart watch is active, moving location about twenty minutes ago. Looks like… industrial district. Warehouse 47.”

Sin places a hand on my shoulder, and I see the promise in his eyes.

It’s the same look Alpha gets when one of our people is threatened.

“We’re gonna find her, Phoenix. And whoever took her is gonna regret the day they were born.

I promise you that.” He spins to his tech guy.

“How fast can you get me everything on Warehouse 47?” Sin asks Ghost.

Ghost is already typing at lightning speed. “Building plans, ownership records, best approach routes? Gimme five minutes.”

“You’ve got three,” Sin warns, then turns to me. “Phoenix, gear up. We’re gonna show you how we get shit done Vegas style.”