Risky and Wild(96)

I don't have the stomach for this shit right now, so I don't respond. None of the other boys do either. I can hardly even imagine it: Rebecca out on the town while her husband's body rots in the ice cold waters of the Pacific Ocean. They were so damn close, soul mates I woulda said if I'd believed in that rubbish before Lyric. But I guess Rebecca's love for the finer things outweighed her love for Landon.

“Priorities, Jack,” I say because I really just can't see hunting Rebecca like a dog, putting her down like the loose end and the traitor that she is. “Rebecca's not half as important as Clayton Moore. Now, you tell me where he's used his credit card and I'll give you a bloody pat on the back.”

I light up my cig and pause as I hear the front doors of the chapel slam open. The heavy sound of boots precedes Glacier as he storms into the room and pauses just beyond the puddle of gold light from the lamps, like he was born for the shadows or something. When he finally does step forward, his face is sweaty, his ice blue eyes tinged with fear.

Fuck.

Fear and Glacier don't exactly go hand in hand. The first, last, and only time I've ever seen this look was when Landon went rogue. I beckon him forward and realize my hands are already starting to shake. Whatever this is, it must be pretty goddamn awful if the psycho doesn't have the energy for a smirk or a sarcastic comment.

“This is bad, boys,” he tells me, tells us, his gaze scanning the room, pulse thundering so hard in the side of his neck that it looks like there's something trapped there. Glacier steels his expression and looks me dead in the face. “Really bad.”

I glance back over at my brothers as they all rise to their feet.

“What the fuck is this about?” Dober barks gruffly.

Glacier just stares at him for a long moment.

“Out with it,” I snap.

“I was listening in on the police scanner while I worked on Mug's bike with him.” There's a long pause, a harsh breath. The piercings on Glacier's face reflect the gold glare of the lights. “There's been a mass shooting at Sea Salt. Four dead, four injured, possible kidnapping in progress.”

There's a single second of silence as his words click, twist, make sense inside our addled brains.

Sea Salt. That stupid new grocer on View Avenue. The one where the girls went to shop, where Lyric texted me from all of ten minutes ago.

Four dead.

Four injured.

Kidnapping in progress.

Holy. Fucking. Christ.



Our first response is to head directly over to Sea Salt, but a group of outlaw bikers showing up at the scene of a shoot-out is the last thing anyone needs. We'd probably get our arses capped on sight by the goddamn rozzers before we got a chance to see our girls. If they're even still alive.

I shut that thought the fuck down.

We camp the police scanner until we get confirmation that the injured are being transported to Trinidad Community Hospital. That's when the calls start coming in: Janae, Glinda, Fauna. The Old Ladies.

They hit us where we hurt, right in the heart of the club.

Glacier gets a call for Sketch, too, since he's his club sponsor and apparently listed as the kid's emergency contact. Guess he doesn't have any other family. There are no calls about Jump-Start, and I start to worry that a police officer might be showing up at Bettina's house sometime soon with bad news.

Shit.

Nobody calls about Lyric either because, hell, we aren't crap to each other, are we?

I dial up her brother instead. I swear to Christ if that son of a bitch doesn't answer …

“What?” Sully snaps, and I have to pause a moment to suck in a deep breath.

“Who's Lyric's emergency contact?” I ask, and Sully pauses, his breathing getting erratic on his end of the line.

“What?”

“Who. The. Fuck. Is. Her. Emergency. Contact.”

“My … sister, I think. Why?”

“Call her and then call me back. Make it quick.” I hang up and toss my mobile onto the bar top. “Get over to the hospital and see your wives,” I tell the boys. “I'll handle things from this end.”

“I'm not fucking going anywhere,” Dober says, looking shaky and pale as fuck. “Janae will live, and you need me here. Let's take care of this shit now. Bystanders reported seeing men on bikes? It's Mile Wide without a goddamn doubt. I say we find those sons of bitches and finish this while they're still in the area.”

I nod my chin at Mick and Jack as they take off like bats outta hell, leaving me alone with Glacier, Smoky, Dober, and Mug.

My mobile rings, and I snatch it up.

“Well?”

Sully snorts rudely.

“We haven't heard anything about Lyric. Why? What's going—” I hang up on the man before he can finish his sentence. If the other girls are in the hospital and no one's reported her body on site, then Lyric … is missing.