by Sassie Lewis
Chapter Eighteen
It had been twenty-six hours, forty-two minutes, and eighteen. . .nineteen seconds since he discovered her missing, and he was going out of his fucking mind.
He’d tried to get a few hours of sleep, but the bed smelled like her; reminding him he’d slept with his cock inside of her every night since the first time he’d taken her. He’d ended up staring at the ceiling with a hard dick, pounding headache, and an ache inside his chest that wouldn’t let go.
Turning in his pacing, he bumped into Quin. “Wearing a hole in the carpet will not find my daughter.”
“Do you think I don’t fucking know that?” Blake folded his arms. The stitches Nessa had sown into his shoulder pulled and stung, but the action stopped him from putting his fist through Quin’s face.
Quin stepped further into Blake’s space. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve been thinking, Blake. I thought I could trust you, and you went and fucked my daughter. And I know what you’re like when it comes to sex. I will not have your perverted ass anywhere near Rebecca.”
Blake snorted. “Pot. Kettle. Black. You’re just as fucking perverted as me, Quin. And make up your fucking mind; last night you were demanding I marry her, now you don’t want me anywhere near her.” Then leaning forward, so he was eye level with the shorter man. “Let’s be clear on something, brother. I didn’t fuck your daughter, I made love to my woman. If you don’t like that, you’ve only got yourself to blame. I warned you time and again to keep me away from her. You didn’t listen—”
“Enough,” Boris bellowed from across the room. “This is not going to bring our Rebecca home—”
“This isn’t her home.” Quin cut in.
“I have let you into my house, Anderson, do not push my goodwill. But nonetheless, this fighting will not save Rebecca and my future great-grandchild.”
“What the fuck else are we supposed to do, Alexandrov? We’ve got fuck all. That bastard Abram knew nothing,” Quin spat.
Abram had died too quickly for Blake’s liking. Once the doctor had brought the older man around, Quin and Boris had teamed up to question him. The fucker had finally confessed to aiding in her abduction. But as for who he was working for? He didn’t know.
“We’ve got people searching Abram’s accounts, phone records, and his house,” Danil piped in.
Blake didn’t like the guy. Everything about him rubbed Blake the wrong way. His alibi for when the princess had been taken was air tight. A little too tight for Blake’s liking, but he was proving to be useful with computers. He just wasn’t working fast enough for Blake to not want to kill him. They also had both Boris’s men and a few of Hell’s Exiles member scouting the city and other parts of the state, yet they had found nothing.
“It’s been over twenty-five hours.” Zane pushed off the wall he was leaning against. “We’ve heard nothing. I hate to say it—”
“Then fucking don’t. She’s alive and I’m going to fucking find her,” Blake growled, that ache in his chest worsening, and Nessa’s silent sobs annoyed the shit out of him. “I’ve got to get out of here for a few.” He’d ditched the suit when he’d showered earlier, Boris hadn’t said a word.
Grabbing the keys to his bike, he headed to the lift. He needed a ride. To clear his head. To think. To. . .wrap his hands around the throat of the asshole stepping out of the lift. “What the fuck are you doing here, Romero?” Blake asked while he lifted the younger man from the ground and slammed him against the wall.
The kick to the balls was unsporting, but it did the trick, causing Blake to drop to his knees. Fucking Mexicans fought dirty. Not that Blake could really judge.
“Getting sloppy in your old age, Bold. I checked you out after you interrupted my dinner with Rebecca. I was told you were Boris’s best fighter, yet a cheap shot took you down.”
Blake jumped to his feet, and the kid stepped to the side. He didn’t seem to be intimidated by Blake’s reputation or size. Romero wasn’t much shorter than Blake, maybe six-two. And at only twenty he probably had some more growing to do. Like Blake, he’d been raised by those who walked outside of social niceties, so Blake could appreciate his lack of fear. Didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off, this little fucker had once touched his woman.
“I have information you need to hear,” Romero said, holding his hands out to the side. Nothing could have simmered Blake’s rage as quick as that statement did.
“Blake, get back in here and bring the kid,” Quin said from the suites open door.
A room full of bikers, Russian mafia, and one Mexican Cartel prince made for an eclectic mix of people and made a tense situation even more tense. Leaning his head back against the chair, Blake pulled a smoke from his vest pocket and lit it. . . “Everyone, this is Rodrigues Romero, heir to the Los Mochis Cartel, and apparently a friend of Becca’s.”
“What the hell!” Chase spat. “Why the hell is my baby sister hanging out with the fucking cartel?”
Blake would have loved the answer to that question too, but. . . “Is that really fucking important right now!?” It wasn’t a question. “You said you have information, Romero, so spill.”
“I’m guessing this room is clean?”
Boris rose an eyebrow in answer. Like anywhere that Boris was wasn’t clean!
“Okay then. I spoke with my father this morning. For those that don’t know, I live in California, not Mexico, which incidentally is how I met Becca. I go to Caltech, anyway, father has gotten wind of an organization here in the states that he is not happy about. He has his people trying to find the ‘boss’ but has had little luck. However, he’s just gotten word that an auction will take place on Friday, we don’t know where yet, but we’ve got men looking into it.”
“I don’t see how knowing about an auction will help us,” Nessa piped in. She’d been sitting on Chase’s lap when they’d walked back into the suite, and refused to leave when she realized there might be information about Becca.
“You must be Nessa. Becca told me much about you.”
“Funny, she mentioned nothing about you,” Nessa snapped. “Now tell me about this auction.”
Romero tilted his head and gave Nessa a small smile. “You deal with bikers, they are by no means law abiding, but there are certain things your club refuses to deal in and neither does Mr. Alexandrov—”
“Human trafficking,” Blake answered. He was the only other person at the table who knew that Boris and Quin both detested human traffickers. A chorus of “Shit”, “Fuck”, “God dammit”, mixed with an assortment of Russian expletives to echo around the room.
“Si. But this is a venture that my father does deal in, and like I said, he is not impressed that there is someone crouching what he perceives as his territory. Word is, Becca is to be auctioned off.”
He didn’t remember standing. Didn’t remember flinging his chair at the wall, and he didn’t remember pinning Romero to the table. Rage consumed him. Blinded him under the blanket of gray that filled his vision. His ears buzzed and his heart pounded as loud as a drum in his chest.
It took the combined efforts of Zane, Chase, Quin, Bear, and Danil to pull him off Romero. In the back of his mind, he could hear someone telling him to calm the fuck down. Knew that what he was doing wasn’t going to help find his princess. Knew that it wasn’t Romero’s fault that his father dealt in a trade that Blake fucking hated. While he knew all that, his emotions were one big cesspool of roiling confusion. . . And that fucking wetness was coating his cheeks again. For that alone, he was going to spank her until she couldn’t sit when he got her back. Then he’d spank her again for disappearing in the first place.
Dragging in a deep breath, Blake got himself under control. “If I find out your father has anything to do with this. . .” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone in the room knew what he’d do.
“I swear on my sister’s life that The Los Mochis have nothing to do with Becca’s disappearance.” The buzz of a phone had Romero reaching into his poc
ket to retrieve it. He looked at the phone then looked back to Blake. “We have a location for the auction.”
Quin took off before any of them could grab their gear.
She was getting sick and tired of waking up with cotton mouth. She was also beginning to worry about the little bean she carried, and how the drug they’d knocked her out with twice now, was affecting it. If they’d. . .
“Becca, are you awake?” Evie’s soft voice dragged her from her worry.
“Yeah, sweetie, I am,” she said, rolling onto her side to look through the bars. For the past two days, Evie had clung to Becca. She’d been shocked to find out that the little girl was only eight. And with what she’d discovered, she was sickened to think someone would want to do those things with this precious little girl. Worse still, finding out that Evie hadn’t been kidnapped, but that her father had sold her to pay off his gambling debts. . . Yeah, when Becca got out of here, she’d be paying Evie’s father a visit. “I’m sorry I slept so long. I think they put something in my food.”
Evie nodded, her focus wasn’t on Becca but on something behind her. She lowered down until her little face was pressed close to Becca’s. The only thing separating them were the bars. “There’s a man in your cage. They put him in there while you were sleeping.”
What the fuck!
Quick, a little too quickly from the spinning her head did, Becca shot to her feet and faced her new roommate. Covered in dust and blood, it took her a second to recognize him. Her feet were moving before her brain had fully processed that he was there.
Dropping to her knees, she brushed her fingers over his sun-roughened face. “Dad.” The word broke on a croak, and tears trickled down her cheeks. She hadn’t seen him in seven months, had been angry at him for just as long, yet seeing him here, like this all she wanted was for him to open his eyes, hold her tight, and tell her everything would be okay.
Swallowing, she tried again. “Evie? Sweetie, slide your water over here.” The little girl did as asked. Slowly, methodically, Becca cleaned the blood from her father’s face. Her mind raced with a million questions.
“Who is he Becca?”
“This is my dad.”
Evie’s little fist balled up, and a crease formed between her brows. “Did he give you to the bad man like my daddy did?”
Becca again swore to avenge this sweet little girl. “No, baby. My dad has done some fuc–bad things in his life, but he’d never do anything like that.”
“I believe you,” Evie whispered. She dropped her voice even lower. “He looks like a bad guy with all those tattoos.”
Becca couldn’t help but laugh at Evie’s worried look, she enlightened the child. “You’re right, he is a bad guy, sweetie, but he’s a good man. Do you understand the difference?”
“Glad you think so.” The gruff voice had Evie rolling into her standard protective ball, and Becca letting out a very girly yelp. A sound that was cut off as large arms engulfed her in a hug so tight it stole her breath, and she found herself drawing in his familiar scent.
“Fuck, baby girl. I was scared shitless when I found out they’d taken you. Don’t ever do that again.”
“It wasn’t as if I planned on getting taken,” she sassed back.
“Have they. . .” He gulped, and she pulled back to see his face. “Have they hurt you?” She shook her head and was immediately pulled back into another tight hug. “Thank fuck.”
“Dad, you gotta watch the language. We’ve got little ears listening in.” With that, Quin let her go. “Evie? Sweetie, come over here and meet my dad, Quin. His boys are going to save us. Aren’t they, Dad?” She gave her father a look that said, lie if you have to, even though she hoped what she said was true.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
Evie beamed at his words. “Is Becca right? Are your boys going to save us? ‘Cause I’m going to live with Becca and Blake when we get out of here.”
Becca cringed. She’d shared a lot with Evie over the past two days, but she hadn’t expected her father to find out about her love life in a place she couldn’t escape from.
“That’s right, sugar. My boys will get us out of here. But why are you going to come live with us ruffian’s and not back where you belong?”
“‘Cause Becca is going to have Blake do something to my daddy. She said that a daddy’s not supposed to sell his daughter. And that he doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air I do. I don’t understand that bit. How could he breathe the same air as me if we’re far apart?”
“Never you mind, I understand and that’s all that matters. Now I gotta talk to my daughter about some grown-up things, so I want you to move near that wall back there and sing a song for me.” Becca smiled. He used to make her do the same thing when she was little and he needed to talk to someone in her presence, he’d say, “Sing me a song, princess, while I deal with these idiots, it will make me feel better.” And she would.
Once Evie was doing as asked, Quin snapped, “Tell me everything.”
She did.
“Fuck. I don’t know where we are. I got run off the road near Death Valley, but the boys know when and where the auction is, so be prepared for something to go down. We’ll get all the girls out of here. But your priority is going to be you. Do you hear me, Rebecca? Not Evie. Not anyone else. You and my fucking grandchild have to be safe.”
Becca gulped. “How did you find out about the baby?” She hadn’t told anyone; she’d only found out the morning of the day she’d been taken.
“Nessa found the test in your bathroom. Crazy bitch also shot a gun at me.”
“Why?” While there was a more important question she wanted answered, she had to know why her BFF would shoot at her soon to be father-in-law.
“To stop me from killing Blake. Seriously Rebecca, why the fuck did you let one of my boys near you? You’re better than that.”
She did that slow blink you do when the person you are talking to just said something so stupid you need the extra time to formulate an answer. In the end she laughed. “You can’t be that stupid, Quin. Bikers raised me, I lived with bikers, I had freakin’ barbecues with bikers. The only people or rather person I know outside of bikers is Nessa. Did you honestly think I’d end up with a ‘normal’ guy?”
He mumbled something under his breath that kind of sounded like, “Smart-ass bitch,” but she couldn’t be sure.
“Does Blake know about the baby?”
“Yeah, he knows. When Nessa threw that stick at him, he just stared at it for like a minute, then the big pussy cried.”
Becca’s heart did a little leap. “Don’t call my man a pussy, he’d just found out he’s going to be a daddy and I’d been taken. He’s entitled to have some emotions.”
“He’s meant to wait until the baby’s born before he has those.” The way he said the words gave Becca a clue of how he’d reacted to her birth.
She leaned into her dad. . . “Cried when I was born, hey?”
“Like a fucking baby, princess. Like. A. Fucking. Baby.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. And they sat in silence for a minute.
“I’m still angry with you, you know?” she whispered.
“Figured as much, you never did let go of a grudge.”
“I know things weren’t great with you and mom,” her voice cracked on the last word. It always hurt to speak of the woman she’d loved so much. “But what you did was fucked up.”
He grunted, and Becca knew that was the closest she would get to an affirmation or apology.
“Becca? I don’t know any more songs.” Evie’s words ended father daughter time.
“It’s all good, baby girl,” Quin’s gruff voice echoed quietly as he rubbed his thumb over Becca’s cheeks. Clearing away tears she didn’t even know she shed. “Why don’t you come over here and we’ll talk about what you will have to do when help comes.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I think the best way to do this is at the buy,” Chase said, popping h
is booted feet up onto the table.
They were back in Boulder, back at the club’s warehouse. It had pissed them all off to find out that whoever this fucker was, they were doing their business in Hell’s Exiles backyard. Romero had been a fount of information, but that was as far as he’d been willing to help them. Information only. But it was enough and they’d been able to scout the location where the auction was due to take place in thirty-six hours. Hell, they even had the blueprints to the place. The security was tight. Too tight for them to get close, to make sure his princess was inside. But there was no doubt something big was going down there.
“Where the fuck is Quin?” Stone, their SGT at Arms, Quin’s best friend, and the most antisocial member of Hell’s Exiles spoke for the first time.
“He took off the moment we found out about the location of the auction and I haven’t seen him since,” Zane answered, then looked around the table in questioning. Head shakes greeted the look. None of them had seen their prez since he’d taken off without them.
“It doesn’t matter where the fuck Quin is, we need to work out how to get to Becca.” Blake slammed his fist onto the table. He really couldn’t give a fuck where the selfish bastard had taken off to, he just wanted his woman back.
“And I told you what I think is the best way—”
“You think any of us are gonna be able to get into that auction?” Blake cut Chase off. “Romero told us how these things are run, and it’s generally by invite only.”
“Grange North,” Horse, their Road Captain added.
“Explain,” Chase demanded, dropping his feet back to the ground and leaned forward.
“Grange North dabbles in everything. He’s pretty well known for throwing money around. We’ve done a fair bit of work for him lately.” They’d been moving arms up and down the border for him, and he was a pretty loyal guy to work with, unless you fucked him over or let him down. “I bet he’s either already been invited or he could get himself an invitation,” Horse explained.