THIRTY-TWO
Throttle
This is the most challenging task I've encountered, but I made a promise to Tequila that I won't go—I won't be present—and I already sent Brass. If I had to sit out on the sidelines while she broke that bastard's heart, then I sure as hell was sending someone with her.
It's surprising how I ended up liking the prospect. Trusting him with the most important person in the world to me.
I check my phone again. I was expecting a text from him by now, giving me the go-ahead.
What the fuck is taking him so long?
Tank walks over. “Chain’s calling church in five. Bullet had a lead on the tracker, but they must have found it because it’s sitting at the bottom of the lake,” he curses. “I also think Chain wants to discuss Pipe’s invitation to raid the men who killed one of their women.”
It took me a moment to notice that Tank had stopped talking. I couldn’t focus on anything except Tequila.
“Hey you good?” He leans an elbow on the bar, facing me.
“Something’s not right. I feel it.”
“With your girl?”
“Brass should have texted me by now. It's been too long.”
“Maybe they got held up or he’s beating the dude’s face in. Likely won't accept a refusal.”
I give Tank a death stare. If that happened, I wanted to be the one to beat his ass, not our prospect.
Just to double-check, I tap on Brass's name on my phone. Nothing. I call him, waiting for an answer, and when it goes to voicemail, my blood boils. “Fuck it. I’m going out there.”
“All right pretty boys, let’s start this meeting, shall we?” Chain shouts from the front stairs and Tank lays a hand to my back.
“Look, brother. If you need to leave, we get it. It’s your woman out there. None of us would blame you. Just promise me you’ll update me as soon as you get there.”
I nod, already jogging to my bike when Chain calls my name, but I ignore it.
I rev up my Harley and weave through the light traffic while following the address. The fact we live in a quieter area makes me as happy as a kid on a snow day.
What the fuck?
This GPS is taking me into the damn woods. Sure, I live secluded, Venom and Angel live secluded, but because my gut is cursing the shit out of me right now, I am not buying this.
At the destination, a wave of panic, unlike anything I've experienced, washes over me and my heart sinks. I track the path of blood, which leads me to a lifeless body on the ground.
I didn't need to guess or read our club's name on his leather. I knew it was Brass.
I gently rotate him onto his back. “Holy fuck, man.” My stomach twists at the sight of him. “Brother, can you hear me?”
His fingers twitch. Good. He’s alive, but not for much longer.
His eyes and cheeks are swollen. As I raise his shirt, his abdomen has purple marks and gashes with oozing blood.
“Where is she, Brass?” I’m loud but only out of panic.
He tries to talk, but winces in pain.
With a pat on his shoulder, I call for an ambulance. “Help is coming. Just hang on, brother.”
I circle the perimeter, reaching for my piece, but realizing I left it back at the club.
Stupid.
Inside the house, I take slow caution, but desperation hits me. “Tequila!” My boot collides with something hard and immobile. Underneath, I’m standing in a pool of blood. Was this Caleb?
I examine his pulse, only to discover a bullet hole between his eyes. “Fuck!” I panic again. “Tequila!” It was stupid shouting her name and not being armed, but I didn’t give a shit. I needed to find her, and I needed to find her now.
My body trembles with anger and my heart races uncontrollably.
I check every room, every space in the house before I fly out and examine the surrounding area. By a bush is her broken phone.
“Shit!” I drop to my knees, punching the ground.
I should have been here. I shouldn’t have allowed her to go without me.
The sound of motorcycles thunder close. Let them come. I'll make them talk, no matter what it takes.
A touch on my shoulder jolts me out of my daze, causing me to spin around, ready to defend myself. To my surprise, Tank is there, offering a helping hand.
Not my enemies, but my brothers.
“We’ll find her, man.” He reassures me as I stare at the sound of sirens growing in the distance. “We’ll get her back.”
“I’m going to kill every single one of them,” I threaten.
“I know.”
Chain, Hush, Charger, and Bullet climb off their rides. Charger drops to examine an almost lifeless Brass.
“How did you guys find me?” I ask with gratitude.
“Bullet tracked your phone. Prez said fuck the meeting and we came straight here. Just in case and well… shit.”
“Thanks, brother.”
Can't waste time. I’m not needed. Brass is being hauled into an ambulance. I saw who I believed was Caleb being carried off in a body bag. He wasn’t so lucky. If you call Brass barely breathing, luck.
The damn feds were asking questions—questions we lack answers to. Chain’s doing a lot of head nodding, but no words.
I jog to my Harley, but the cop is on my ass. “Hey you! Nobody leaves until I get everyone’s statements.” He points his stupid pen in my direction.
“I don’t have the fucking time to answer your dumbass questions. If you did your job, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” I shout, the anger dripping out of me.
“Now wait a goddamn minute—”
“Officer, we told you everything we know. That guy was already dead when my boy arrived, and ours was laying there beat to a bloody pulp.” Chain stands there, muscled arms crossed to his chest.
Chain's omission of Tequila signals that I should do the same. We won’t ever find her if the feds are involved. Or should I say, we won’t get her out with them breathing down our backs. And I don’t plan on letting them walk out of wherever they are. My first guess being that goddamn warehouse.
“Your club is already on our shit list,” the cop tells Chain.
Of course, we were.
“So, I’m getting five minutes with you and your full statement.” He’s looking at me.
I grind my molars and allow the asshat to ask me meaningless questions. With each passing minute, my patience dwindles. If I fail to find her soon, I'll lose whatever humanity remains.