Chapter 15 Miles
Fifteen
Miles
By the time I cross into Bella Vista, I’m running on fumes and fury.
Smoke’s still tight behind me, steady as a shadow. We don’t stop unless we have to. Gas. Piss. That’s it. Every second feels stolen. Every mile too damn slow. The closer I get to her town, the worse the pressure in my chest gets. Danae didn’t make it home.
The words loop in my head like a curse.
We roll through familiar roads—roads I’ve ridden before when I came to see her. Trees crowd the edges. Fields stretch out in dull winter brown. The sky hangs low, heavy with the kind of gray that presses down on you.
I don’t go to her house first.
I don’t go to the hospital.
I don’t even go to the Saint’s Outlaws clubhouse like originally planned.
I go straight to Dr. Reeves’ address.
Grinder sent it over an hour ago when they landed. Public record. Clean. Suburban. White fence kind of place.
Doesn’t mean a damn thing.
We pull up in front of a two-story house with a manicured lawn and a basketball hoop in the driveway. A minivan sits parked beside a newer model SUV.
It looks normal.
I hate that. Smoke cuts his engine and looks at me. “You sure?” he asks.
“No.”
But I’m already off my bike. My boots hit the pavement hard. My hands are shaking—not from exhaustion. From rage.
I stride up the walkway and don’t bother knocking politely. I pound on the door with the side of my fist like I’m trying to break it down.
Footsteps inside.
A woman’s voice.
“Just a second!”
The door opens. She’s mid-thirties. Blonde. Tired eyes. Holding a toddler on her hip. There’s a little boy peeking from behind her legs.
Domestic.
Normal.
Safe.
Everything inside me snarls. “Yes?” she asks, wary.
“I need Reeves,” I say flat.
“Who—?”
Dr. Reeves steps into view behind her. And when his eyes land on me, I see it.
Recognition.
Not fear. Annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.
I don’t answer. I grab him by the collar and drag him out the door before his woman can even scream. He’s not married to her, I know that much. Whoever she is, this isn’t her business. She can have him back once I get what I need.
“Miles!” Smoke barks, but he’s already moving to block the doorway, keeping the woman and kids back without touching them.
Reeves stumbles down the porch steps, cursing.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
I slam him against the side of his SUV so hard the alarm chirps once in protest.
“Where is she?”
His confusion looks real.
“Where is who?”
I drive my fist into his ribs. He grunts, folding slightly.
“Danae,” I growl. “Where the fuck is she?”
His eyes widen—not in guilt. In surprise.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
I hit him again. This time his head snaps back against the window.
Inside the house, the woman is crying now, kids clinging to her legs.
Smoke steps closer to me.
“Miles—”
“Stay out of it,” I snap.
I grip Reeves’ shirt tighter and shove him harder against the vehicle.
“She didn’t make it home,” I state through clenched teeth. “Her car was found abandoned. You been bothering her for fucking months.”
He goes pale. “I didn’t touch her,” he spits. “You think I’d be stupid enough to do that?”
“You think I won’t bury you if you did?”
His breath smells like coffee and mint. His eyes dart toward the house, toward the woman watching. “I have a family,” he hisses. “You think I’d risk that?”
“You already did,” I fire back. “The moment you thought you could have her, you lost it all motherfucker.”
I slam him into the SUV again for good measure, fury roaring in my ears. “Where were you last night?” I demand. “You left work early, where the fuck did you go?”
“Home!”
“Bullshit.”
“My girlfriend can tell you! She got a migraine and needed help with her kid.”
The woman on the porch nods frantically through tears. “He was here,” she states panicking. “He never left after he came home because I called.”
I look at her.
Really look.
She doesn’t look like she’s covering. She looks terrified.
Of me.
Not of him. That realization slows my pulse by half a beat. I shove Reeves one more time and step back slightly, chest heaving.
“When was the last time you talked to her?” I ask.
His voice shakes now—not from guilt. From anger.
“She told me to leave her alone,” he states. “And I did.”
“You don’t strike me as a man who listens.”
He glares at me, pride wounded. “I didn’t touch her,” he repeats. “I might’ve been persistent. I might’ve misread some signals. But I’m not gonna force her into anything.”
Smoke shifts closer. “You sure about that?” he asks coolly.
Reeves looks between us, calculating. “I have patients. I have a practice. I have a life. If something happened to her, it wasn’t me.”
I study him hard.
Sweat at his hairline. Bruised ego.
Fear—but not the right kind. Not the fear of being caught.
The fear of being falsely accused. And I hate that I can tell the difference.
I shove him away from the SUV.
“If I find out you’re lying,” I tell him quietly, “there won’t be a house left to stand in.”
His woman gasps.
I don’t care. He stumbles, straightens his shirt, fury burning in his eyes now.
“You’re insane,” he spits. “You think threatening me is going to help her?”
I step closer again, slow this time. “No,” I state. “Finding her will.”
I turn and walk back toward my bike. Smoke falls in beside me.
“You believe him?” he asks low.
“I believe he’s an asshole,” I reply. “But I don’t think he’s smart enough for this.”
We ride.
Not to Danae’s house yet. To Saint's Outlaws clubhouse. Wrath called while I was still in Reeves’ driveway. Said they were rallied and waiting. My club and his.
The clubhouse sits on the edge of town—brick building, blacked-out windows, bikes lined up front like sentries. The air smells like gasoline and leather and something metallic.
When we pull in, I see familiar cuts.
Country Boy. Grinder. Dove. Stud. Raff. Four more Hellions standing in line behind them.
My chest tightens. They came.
Inside, the place is dim and buzzing with low conversation. Pool table in the corner. Bar along one wall. Patches and history and violence hanging from every surface.
At the center of it stands Wrath.
President of the Saint’s Outlaws Bella Vista chapter. We have done business back and forth for years. We don’t deal with many chapters of the Saint’s but we don’t have a beef with any of them and that’s what matters most.
Wrath is a calculating man. Broad shoulders. Gray at his temples. Eyes that miss nothing.
He steps forward as I approach. “Miles,” he greets.
“Yeah.”
He grips my forearm once. “Sorry our planned meet for this trip wasn’t sooner.”
“Tell me you found her.”
His jaw tightens. “We found her car.”
My stomach drops. “Where?”
“Back road off the highway. About twelve miles or a little more from the hospital.”
The room goes quiet around us. “What about it?” I demand.
Wrath gestures to a table where photos are spread out. I step closer.
Danae’s car. Driver’s side door closed. Windows up. Sitting alone on a shoulder like it just gave up.
“She pull over?” I ask.
“That’s what it looked like,” Wrath explains. “At first.”
He points to a photo of the dashboard. “They popped the hood.” Next photo—wires.
“Electrical system was tampered with,” he continues. “Clean work. Professional.”
I swallow hard. “What does that mean?”
“It means the car didn’t just die.”
The words slam into me. “It was shut down,” Grinder says from behind me. “Remotely.”
“How the hell—?”
“Modern cars are computers,” he cuts in. “If someone knows what they’re doing, they can access the system. Kill ignition. Disable functions.”
My vision narrows. “So they planned it,” I state the obvious.
Wrath nods once. “She pulled over. They were waiting.”
The room tilts.
“We think she was taken,” Country Boy adds quietly. “Just can’t figure out why.”
Taken.
The word echoes in my skull.
I grip the edge of the table so hard my knuckles go white.
“She wasn’t random,” Wrath states. “This was targeted.”
Of course it was. I didn’t even have to ask. I already knew.
I start pacing. The clubhouse suddenly feels too small. Too tight. Too suffocating.
“Witnesses?” I demand.
“None yet,” Wrath replies. “We’re canvassing.”
“Cameras?”
“Nothing on that stretch of road.”
Of course not. I drag a hand through my hair. “She wouldn’t go quietly,” I mutter.
Country Boy looks at me carefully. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Danae is strong. Stubborn. But she’s also smart. My chest caves inward. “She’d go,” I say hoarsely. “If they used him, she’d go. For her grandfather, she would go quietly, willingly.”
Silence settles heavy over the room.
Wrath watches me like he’s assessing a storm. “We’re not treating this like a missing person,” he says finally. “We’re treating it like an abduction.”
The word slices clean.
Abduction.
“She’s alive,” I say immediately. Not because I know. Because I have to believe.
Wrath nods slowly. “Then we move fast.”
I start pacing again, energy coiling inside me like a live wire. Smoke leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes dark. “You look like you’re about to tear something apart,” he observes.
“I am,” I snap.
Fear is eating me from the inside out. It’s not loud anymore. It’s sharp.
Focused.
A caged animal clawing at my ribs. I picture her blindfolded. Bound. Scared. The thought makes my hands shake. “Grinder,” I bark. “You got anything else?”
“Working traffic cams,” he says. “Pulling feeds from intersections within a ten-mile radius.”
“Van?” I ask knowing they had to grab her in a van or SUV.
“Too many possibilities right now.”
I slam my fist onto the table hard enough to rattle the photos. “Then narrow it down.”
Wrath steps closer, not aggressive. Grounded. “Listen to me,” he says firmly. “Losing your head won’t get her back.”
I glare at him. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” His eyes hold mine. “We find her smart. Not loud.”
My chest rises and falls like I’ve been running. “I can’t just stand here,” I grind out.
“You’re not,” Country Boy says. “You’re breathing. That’s step one.”
I hate that he’s right. I step away from the table and move toward the bar, bracing my hands on the wood.
The image of her car sitting alone on that road won’t leave me.
She would’ve been tired. Coming off shift. Not paying attention. Trusting the world to be what it’s always been. And someone used that.
Used her goodness. Used her love for her grandfather. My jaw tightens so hard it aches. “She’s out there,” I say quietly.
Wrath nods once. “Then we hunt.”
The room hums with agreement. Engines rumble outside as more bikes roll in.
The cavalry.
And I stand there in the middle of it all, feeling like I’m trapped in my own skin.
Because I’ve faced fights before. I’ve bled. I’ve watched men fall.
But I’ve never felt this kind of fear. This kind that claws at you and won’t let go.
I’m not scared for me. I’m terrified for her.
And if someone thinks they can take Danae and disappear into the woods—they’re about to learn what happens when you corner a man who has nothing left to lose.
Because right now?
When I go out, I’m not riding for freedom. I’m riding for blood.