Chapter 17
Seventeen
Miles
The clubhouse smells like smoke, old beer, and the kind of violence that’s been baked into wood over decades.
I can’t sit. I can’t lean. I can’t even breathe right.
Every second that passes feels like I’m letting her slip farther away, and my body doesn’t know what to do with that except vibrate like a live wire.
Wrath lays the photos out again, tapping the one with the hood up. “Whoever did this didn’t just pop a fuse or loosen a wire,” he shares. “They got into it. Everything planned too well.”
Grinder’s laptop is open on the bar, his fingers moving like they’re trying to outrun time. “Remote kill switch isn’t science fiction,” he mutters. “If they had access to the car’s system—aftermarket tracker, compromised OBD port, even a planted device—”
“English,” Dove snaps.
Grinder doesn’t look up. “They planned it. They didn’t grab her on chance.”
“We’ve established that fucker,” I comment.
“Who did it? Where the fuck is she? Why did they do it? And how the fuck do we end their entire fuckin’ bloodline?
” I pace to the far wall, then back. My boots thud a rhythm I can’t stop.
The faces around me blur—Hellions, Saint’s Outlaws, men I’d die with—but all I can see in my mind is Danae on the side of a road, tired eyes, hands on her phone, not even thinking to look over her shoulder because she shouldn’t have to.
Wrath’s voice cuts through. “We got people checking cameras on the routes out. We got folks walking the ditch line where the car sat, looking for tire tracks, footprints, anything.”
“Anything?” I ask, and my voice comes out too rough.
Wrath meets my eyes. “We’ll find something.”
Country Boy steps close enough that I feel him at my shoulder. “You gotta eat something, brother.”
I look at him like he just asked me to sing. “I ain’t hungry.”
“You ain’t thinking either,” he responds quietly. “You burn out before we get a lead, you ain’t doing her any favors.”
I open my mouth to snap back, but the truth is a bitter pill and it sticks in my throat.
Smoke watches me from the corner, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He’s not soothing me. Smoke doesn’t soothe. He’s a match to ignite a fire, not a blanket to smother one.
Stud makes his way to me, a shot glass in one hand and a pack of peanuts in another. “Eat this for protein, toss this back to wash it down, then everyone can let you be a raging bull again, brother.”
I do what he orders because it wasn’t so many years ago, Stud was my president and brought me into this club. He allowed me to embrace his world and gave me a family like I never had before.
Wrath claps his hands once, sharp. “Listen up,” he says, voice carrying. “This is our town and our problem, but the Hellions rode in for her. That means we run this like one family until she’s home.”
A murmur of agreement rolls through the room. My chest tightens. Home. The word feels cruel right now. Grinder’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, then at his laptop, then at Wrath.
“We got something,” Grinder shares.
The room snaps to attention.
My heart stops and starts again like it can’t decide what to do. “What?” I bark.
Grinder turns the laptop so Wrath can see.
“Traffic cam two miles east of the hospital caught a van rolling through at 5:58 a.m. It’s not clear enough for plates, but it’s a white cargo van with a dent on the rear quarter panel.
It sits not far from her car, rolls out not far enough behind her.
Looks like they tried to let her gap them.
We lost them on the old country road, but it’s our best lead. ”
My breath catches.
Wrath leans in. “You sure it’s connected?”
Grinder’s jaw tight. “Not sure. But it’s within the window, and it’s headed toward the same stretch of road where her car was found.”
I’m already moving. “Where does it go?”
Grinder shakes his head. “That’s the problem. Cameras thin out once you hit the backroads. Dove, call in your people.”
Wrath turns to one of his guys. “Get eyes on every white cargo van in town. Shop owners, gas stations, warehouses. Somebody saw something. Pound the pavement and get answers.”
The Saint’s Outlaws file out one at a time until we are left with about ten of them and the Hellions.
Grinder lifts a finger. “There’s more.”
My pulse spikes again. “Spit it out.”
He exhales. “I got into Reeves’ phone records deeper than just pings. He didn’t leave his house last night—wife’s phone corroborates, home Wi-Fi, all that. But he did receive a call at 12:11 a.m. from a burner number.”
My blood goes cold.
“Burner?” I repeat.
“Dove looked into it, true burner, bought in cash.” Grinder says. “The call lasted thirty-one seconds.”
Wrath’s eyes narrow. “And?”
“And the burner got used again this morning,” Grinder continues. “At 7:24 a.m. One outbound call to another prepaid. Sixty-two seconds.”
My vision tunnels. “That burner belongs to who?”
Grinder’s mouth twists. “I can’t tell you that yet. But I can tell you where it was.”
The room goes silent.
Grinder points at a map on the screen. “First call—Reeves’ inbound—originated from a tower near the hospital. Second call—this morning—originated from a tower near the spot where her car was dumped.”
My skin crawls.
They were there.
They were right there.
And they called Reeves.
Why? To taunt him? To use him? To check something? To make sure he’d look guilty? Or because Reeves is connected to someone connected—My mind tries to build a conspiracy out of thin air. I force it down.
Wrath’s voice is calm but edged. “Can you track the burner now?”
Grinder shakes his head. “It hasn’t lit up again.”
Smoke pushes off the wall. “Then we find the van. Dove is running the partial plate with his guy.”
Wrath nods once. “We find the van.”
I can’t stand the words. Find. Track. Wait. Danae is out there right now, and time is the enemy. I step closer to Grinder. “What about her phone?”
Grinder looks at me carefully. “Her phone went dark about the same time the car died.”
“They took it,” I state hoping it’s near her and will come back online soon.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Or it died with the car. But either way—no pings.”
I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache. “Then how do we—”
A crash of female laughter from the back room makes me flinch. Women who aren’t in this moment. Men who haven’t fallen in love with a woman they didn’t mean to love or drag into a world she was never meant to be in.
Wrath notices. “Miles,” he says, and his tone changes—less command, more grounded. “We’re gonna get her.”
My hands curl into fists. “You don’t know that.”
Wrath holds my stare. “I know what we do in this town when somebody takes one of ours.”
The word ours hits me like a blow. Because she is mine now. Not property in the traditional sense. Not possession. Something else. Something bigger.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
For one wild second I think it’s her. I yank it out so fast I nearly drop it.
Josie.
I answer without thinking. “Josie.”
Her voice is tight, controlled the way it gets when she’s scared but refusing to fall apart. “Miles. Grandpa’s okay.”
Relief slices through me so sharp I almost stagger.
“Where is he?” I demand.
“He’s got a neighbor who came over,” she says. “A deputy came by, they’re keeping someone with him and arranging caregivers from the home health company until I can get there and sort a better schedule.”
“Did he see anything?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“No,” she whispers. “He just keeps saying she didn’t come home. He thought he’d fallen asleep and missed her.”
My chest squeezes. “How’s he holding up?”
Josie’s breath shakes. “He’s blaming himself.”
I shut my eyes. “Tell him it ain’t on him,” I reply, voice hoarse. “Tell him she’s coming home.”
Josie goes quiet, then: “Miles, please be careful. And please bring her home safe.”
I open my eyes and stare at the far wall like I can burn a hole through it. “I can’t promise to be careful,” I admit. “But I’ll move the whole Earth to get her back.”
“I know,” she says softly. “Just don’t die because Danae couldn’t live after that. She loves you, Dixon.”
I don’t reply because when I admit my feelings I want it to be to Danae not anyone else. I end the call and stand there for half a second with the phone still pressed to my ear, like I can keep her voice with me if I don’t move.
Smoke watches me.
Wrath watches me.
Everyone watches me.
Because I’m shaking now, not from exhaustion. From the rage that is consuming me.
They have her. They threatened her grandfather. They’re using her like leverage, for what I don’t know.
Every part of me wants to start tearing down doors until one of them happens to be the right one.
Wrath speaks again. “We split. Two-man teams. Outlaws run the backroads and known stash spots. Hellions take the highways and hit every place a van could hide. Grinder stays here and works the tech angle with Dove.”
“I’m not leaving?” Grinder questions automatically. He isn’t used to being tabled from the action.
“You’re not leaving,” Wrath agrees. “We need your eyes.”
Country Boy steps to my side. “You’re riding with me.”
Smoke’s lips curl. “Like hell.”
I turn my head, eyes meeting Smoke’s. He looks eager for the fight, hungry for the chaos. And the most dangerous thing of all, Smoke isn’t afraid to die and feels like he has nothing to lose. But behind it, there’s something else—loyalty in his own way.
Smoke jerks his chin. “He came in with me. He rides with me.”
Country Boy doesn’t flinch. “You ain’t the one in love with the girl.”
Smoke’s expression hardens.
I look at Wrath. Commitment unspoken between his club and me. Wrath’s gaze holds mine a long moment.
Then he nods once. “Smoke rides with you. Country Boy takes two Outlaws and runs the perimeter. Everybody else moves.”
A dozen men start shifting, grabbing keys, checking weapons, moving like an organism.
Wrath catches my arm before I can walk out. “Miles.”
“What,” I snap, then regret it instantly because Wrath isn’t my enemy.