Twisted and Lady meet us at the side door, Twisted carrying a Halligan bar. The wind picked up around us and I held up a hand, stopping the boys listening for any sign of movement inside. For all we know, they could be waiting for us to break in. Which is why Pres and the other brothers were over the opposite side. Fuckers won't know which way to look.
I give the "all clear" signal and Twisted winds up to swing the Halligan into the door when Pres rounds the corner.
What the fuck.
"It's a fuckin' trap," he says, out of breath. "Nikki texted. There are men at the club. Fuck!"
I start running toward my bike. Fuck the warehouse. Fuck everything. I gotta get back to Jaz.
Pres jumps on his bike and brings it around in front of us. "Split up. Half in front, half at the back. These fuckers have guns but they're in our house. Silencers on. Take out as many as you can without the others knowing. Park at the end of the road and walk the rest of the way. Back half go in a few minutes early." As he rattles off orders, the pit in my stomach grows.
Something tells me there is more to this rogue club.
Dylan is involved.
I just know it.
We race toward the club, each of us anxious knowing that our families and our girls are there. Sure, we have guys on them, but they aren't our best men.
Once the bikes are parked we split up, and I join the group heading in through the back. I want to be one of the first in. I need to find my girl. The steps leading down to the back door are unguarded so we move quickly. Lady moves around the corner but comes straight back. "Two," he says. "Left and right of the door."
I nod, attaching the silencer to my gun before moving quickly and quietly.
Two bodies hit the floor.
I wave the guys forward into the club. The lights are on but the only sounds I hear are men shouting. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Moving through the kitchen, I climb onto the worktop and peer through the vent.
Our guys are on their knees next to the pool tables, except for Mouse, who is lying face down and from this angle I can't see whether or not he's alive. Pres was right; the guys are fully armed, and they don't look like amateurs. A quick count tells me we're outnumbered from this side.
I send a group text to Whip and Pres, letting them know the situation and suggesting we all go in at one-just like we'd planned back at the warehouse.
I scan the room, finding the girls huddled in one corner. I run between them, moving them out of the way in turn.
Jaz isn't with them.
Lucy runs to Whip, jumping into his arms. I know I should give them a moment but, fuck . . . Jasmine.
Tears run down Lucy's face and even from here I can see her shaking. I reach out to touch her shoulder and she jumps. Whip shoots me a death stare, but that doesn't even come close to what's twisting my gut. His woman is safe. He's holding her in his arms. Lucy opens her mouth but before she even says anything, I know.
"He was here."
"Fuck!"
Everything I look at turns red. It's like someone has dropped a film down over my eyes. Everyone clears a path for me as I barrel through the room, heading straight for the fucker Pres still has alive. The boys have taken him to the kitchen and when I walk in, they've already got him tied to a chair, his hands cable-tied behind him, his left eye all but closed. Twisted stands behind him, shaking his hand out, the knuckles swollen and bloodied.
"Where did he take her?"
The guy looks up at me, his eyes unfocused and glassy. "Fuck you."
I press my gun to his forehead, the safety making a loud click that he doesn't miss because suddenly his eyes lock on mine and the whites are fuckin' wide.
"I-I don't know." His voice shakes. "He gave us intel on you guys . . . had a source . . . said he wanted his wife back. The deal was if he got us in here, he got to take her."
I look at Pres. "You gonna kill this fucker?"
"You know it."
"Good, let me get the last shot in." My feet move of their own accord, taking me out of the room, toward the back room. "Wrench!" He follows me down the hallway. I reach over and clear his desk with a swipe of my hand. Everything else can get fucked. I stab at the computer, trying to get the fucking thing to turn on. The screen comes to life and Wrench pulls up a chair. "Find out where this asshole could have her. Fucking track them down."
We spend the next two hours looking at every possibility and come up with shit. I've even been back to the kitchen twice and all that's gotten me is bruised knuckles and my gun is a bullet lighter.
My phone sounds with a text and I snatch it up.
Jaz.
The file that comes through is a video. I breathe a sigh of relief until I open it.
What I see on the screen will stay with me until the day I die. Hearing her scream. Watching his filthy hands all over her. Listening to her beg over and over . . .