Falling for the President’s Daughter: Satan’s Fury MC

by Wilder, L.

  “I don’t see how it could hurt to look,” Big replied. “We could save some time by having me check the call log while Wyatt goes through the text messages.”

  “Call him in,” Cotton ordered.

  Stitch pulled out his phone, and in a blink, Big was back at the computer in the corner, and Wyatt, Stitch’s son, was sitting next to him with his own laptop. We were all standing behind them, watching as they hammered away at their individual keyboards. The room was oddly quiet, and the tension crackled around us as we waited to hear something from either Big or Wyatt. Since he was the one who’d tracked Lauren’s phone’s location, my focus was completely directed at Big’s screen. I didn’t realize that was a mistake until I heard Wyatt ask, “Should we be concerned about the wicked things Flynn wants to do to Lauren?”

  I was so focused on finding out who Lauren had last spoken with and her possible whereabouts that I hadn’t even thought about the messages we’d exchanged over the past couple of weeks. To say I was horrified that the brothers had uncovered them was the understatement of the century. Everything I’d sent Lauren came flooding through my mind, and I desperately wanted to yank that laptop out of Wyatt’s hands and toss it through the fucking window. But it was too late. Stitch, the club’s most terrifying brother, was already leaning in to get a better look at the screen. I wanted to die right then and there or, at the very least, crawl into a dark hole, but I could only stand there and brace myself as Stitch grumbled, “Well, fuck. I did not need to see that shit.”

  “We were just messing around.” I could feel the heat of all the brothers’ stares on my flesh as I dug my hole even deeper. “Didn’t mean nothing by it. Neither of us.”

  “Um-hmm,” Stitch grumbled.

  “Do I need to keep going or move on?” Wyatt asked innocently.

  “Move on, bud.” Doing his best to keep himself from smiling, Clutch ran his hand over his face and said, “I don’t think we have to be concerned about those messages.”

  “You sure? There’s a lot here. You sure I don’t need to—”

  “No, I think we’re good,” Clutch assured him. “We can always go back to them if we need to.”

  I never wanted to hug anyone as much as I did Clutch at that moment. I could feel the heat in my face start to fade as the attention was drawn away from me and back to the two computer screens. Seconds later, Big turned to Cotton and asked, “Can you think of a reason why Lauren would’ve contacted Don Phillips yesterday afternoon?”

  “The park ranger?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. Do you know why she might’ve called him?”

  “Can’t say for sure.” Cotton thought for a moment, then said, “Might have something to do with his son. I think he’s in her class. Why?”

  “He’s the last person she called.”

  “I don’t know.” Cotton’s brows furrowed as he considered what needed to be done. “Don’s always been a little off, but I can’t imagine him having anything to do with this.”

  “Hard to know what anybody will do these days, Prez.”

  “You’re right.” Cotton pulled out his phone and said, “Give me the number.”

  Big pointed to the number on the screen, and we all waited silently as Cotton placed the call. When he didn’t answer, Cotton called him a second time. Still nothing. “Fuck, he’s not answering. I’m going over there to see if he knows anything.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  To my surprise, Cotton didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded, then looked over to Stitch and said, “You and Maverick come with us. The rest of you keep at it and see if you can come up with any other leads.”

  “You got it, Prez.”

  When we started for the door, Q rushed over to Cotton and asked, “Hey, Prez, you mind if I tag along? I’d like to be there in case you need a hand.”

  “Yeah, I don’t have a problem with that.”

  Q glanced over at me with a sour look, then followed Cotton out of the conference room. I kept my head down as we made our way out to the parking lot. I didn’t want Cotton or the others to see how distraught I was—that I was on the brink of losing it. I wanted them to think I was strong like them, but then I caught a glimpse of Cotton, whose face was marked with the same anguish as mine. I knew then, Cotton would stop at nothing to bring his daughter home. And I would be standing right there next to him when he did.

  Chapter 12

  Lauren

  I didn’t grow up with a bunch of badass bikers without learning a thing or two about handling tough situations. I’d learned plenty; they’d made sure of that. I just had to figure out how to handle this particular tough situation, and I needed to do it fast. I knew I was somewhere with Mr. Phillips. He was the last one I’d seen before my world went black, but I had no idea where he’d taken me. I didn’t want him to know I was awake, so I kept my eyes closed and listened as he paced back and forth, muttering to himself like a crazy lunatic. I was sitting with my wrists bound to the arms of the chair and doing my best to remain perfectly still, in hopes that it might buy me a little more time. Unfortunately, a cramp in my forearm forced me to move. It was just a slight shift but enough to draw Phillips’s attention. He towered over me and roared, “Where is it?”

  “What?” I mumbled as I tilted my head back and pretended to fade in and out of consciousness. I barely opened my eyes—just enough to take a quick glance around. Between the car parked next to us and the many tools hung on the wall, it was pretty clear that we were in a garage, more than likely Mr. Phillips’s garage, which meant there was a strong possibility I was still in Clallam County. Now I just had to play along with him until I could figure a way out of this mess. “Where am I?”

  “I’m the one asking the questions here,” he roared. “Where is it?”

  “Where’s what?” I breathed. “I don’t ... know what ... you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Lauren. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

  “I’m sorry...I don’t.”

  “Where the fuck is my log?”

  “Are you serious?” It might not have been the best idea to cop an attitude with a lunatic, but I was furious that he’d had the audacity to kidnap me over a damn book that I was trying to give back to him. “You brought me here because of that stupid book?”

  “It’s not some stupid book, you fucking half-wit!” Still towering over me with his face inches from mine, he yelled, “It’s my goddamn lifeline!”

  “I was going to give it back to you!” I wanted to stay cool, calm, and collected, but I was struggling to control my anger. “You didn’t have to kidnap me!”

  “I wouldn’t have had to kidnap you if you hadn’t taken it out of Collin’s fucking backpack!” He threw his hands up in the air as he continued shouting, “It was the fucking perfect hiding place, but you had to go and ruin it by snooping around.”

  “I thought I was helping!”

  “Well, you didn’t help a goddamn thing.” He started pacing back and forth again. Mr. Phillips was in his late thirties, maybe early forties, with a receding hairline and round middle. He wasn’t exactly unattractive, but his park ranger uniform wasn’t doing him any favors. It was at least one size too small; the pant legs were too short, revealing his white ankle socks and old man work shoes. His round cheeks were growing redder by the second. “They’re coming. They’ll be here any fucking minute. You have to tell me where the log is. It’s the only way I can get us out of this mess.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I could tell by the panicked tone in his voice that he was scared—really scared—which worried me. I was the one who’d been kidnapped and bound to a chair. I was the one who should’ve been scared, not him. “I can’t get into that right now. We don’t have time.”

  “I hate to break it to you”—I shouldn't have pushed him for answers when he was so frantic, but he’d left me no choice—“but I’m not telling you where the stupid log is
until I know who’s coming after us.”

  He let out a disgruntled huff, then finally said, “That ‘stupid log’ has information in it, Lauren ... Information that’s very incriminating to an important person in this town, and he’s left it up to me to make sure that information doesn’t get into the wrong hands—especially while the FBI is sniffing around.” His face grew red once again. “Then, you call yesterday while I was with this important person, and he happens to overhear that you’ve been snooping around his log. Since it was my responsibility to keep it safe, he’s ordered me to take care of it.”

  And there it was. He hadn’t brought me here to help or protect me. He’d brought me here to take care of me once and for all. “So, what’s your plan here? You get the log back, and then, what? You kill me?”

  “I’d thought about it, but I’m not a killer, Lauren.” He shook his head with regret. “I wish I was. It’d make this whole thing a lot simpler, but I just can’t do it. So, I have no choice. We get the log and run.”

  He was so matter-of-fact about it like he wasn’t about to destroy my entire life and possibly his own. I could feel my heart racing as I shrieked, “What about my family? You don’t think they’ll care that I’m missing?”

  “It’s not like Cotton doesn’t have two other daughters—daughters that are his own and not some kid he adopted out of guilt. There’s a chance he’ll just cut his losses.”

  His words stung. Not because I thought he was being cruel, but because there was an element of truth to what he’d said. I was adopted. I wasn’t Cotton’s flesh and blood, not like Darby and Susana, but I knew without a doubt in my mind that he loved me and would do anything in his power to rescue me. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re wrong. There’s nothing my father wouldn’t do for me.”

  “You might be right. Either way, I don’t have a choice. We have to go.”

  I was screwed. There was no way around it. I could try and put him off, but that meant taking a chance on whomever was coming after us. Something told me I’d have a better chance with Mr. Phillips, so I told him, “The journal is in my desk at school.”

  “Fuck, how are we supposed to get it now?”

  “I’ve got a key to the building, but it’s in my car.”

  His eyes dropped to the ground as he considered the possibility of going back to my car. I thought if he took me there, I might be able to get away, but my hopes were dashed the second he replied, “It’s too fucking risky.”

  “Then, how are we going to get it?”

  “I’ll just have to break in.”

  He leaned down and started to untie the rope around my right wrist but hadn’t gotten very far when there was a pounding on the outside door. His eyes widened with pure panic when the sound continued. “Open up, Don!”

  “Dammit!”

  “Is that them?”

  “Yeah.” He stood and started towards the door, only to stop and turn back to me. “Listen, you gotta be quiet. If they find out you’re in here, you’re as good as dead. You got me?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “I got you.”

  With that, he spun around and went inside the house, closing the door behind him. I immediately started pulling at my restraints, hoping by some slim chance I might be able to break free. While I continued to tug at the rope, I could hear the low rumble of men’s voices, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. At least, not at first. As the conversation continued, the voices grew louder, and I managed to hear one of them say, “Just tell me where it is, Don.”

  “She said it’s in her desk,” Mr. Phillips answered. “I’ll go get it and have it back in your hands within the hour.”

  The man’s deep voice was riddled with arrogance as he replied, “Sorry, Don. That’s not going to work for me.”

  “I’m...I’m trying here,” Mr. Phillips stammered. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I wanted you to do your fucking job,” the man’s voice roared, “but you didn’t do that, did you, Don?”

  “It was a simple mistake, boss.” There was no missing the desperation in Mr. Phillips’s voice as he pleaded, “If you just give me a chance, I’ll fix it, I swear!”

  “I don’t do second chances, Don.”

  “Wait!”

  The loud sounds of gunfire drowned out his cry. My heart started beating even faster than it had before. I couldn’t help but think of the warning Mr. Phillips had given me over what would happen if the man found me, so I worked feverously to free myself from the rope. My raw flesh hurt like hell, but the blood provided just enough lubrication to slip my hand through the knot. I wasted no time moving to my other hand, and in a matter of minutes, I’d managed to untie it. Even though the chances of Dad and the brothers finding me were slim, I wanted to leave some kind of clue that I’d been there, so I took off the charm bracelet Mom and Dad had given me and left it on the floor next to the ropes. I hoped it would be enough as I raced towards the side door; unfortunately, I didn’t make it that far before I heard the garage door open and a man’s voice ask, “Going somewhere?”

  I whipped around and was surprised to see a familiar face staring back at me. While I didn’t actually know the man, I’d seen him on the news. I’d also heard a little bit about him the night I met the girls down at the bar. He was Robert Demarco. MJ was his soon-to-be ex-wife’s divorce attorney, and the case wasn’t going well. The FBI was investigating him due to some oddities in his financials, mainly occurring from one of the three private ports he owned. As he stood there in his fancy black suit with a gun in his hand, he didn’t seem too concerned that the FBI was investigating him. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

  Chapter 13

  Flynn

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Stitch pointed at the Ford F-350 Super Duty parked at the side of Phillips’ house. “I forgot the rangers moved over to duallys last year.”

  “Damn, it’d slipped my mind, too.”

  “The tire tracks and the call.” Maverick shook his head. “I gotta say. It’s not looking good for ol’ Don.”

  “No, it’s not,” Cotton growled.

  Cotton pulled up and parked behind Phillips’ truck. Once he’d killed the engine, we got out of the truck and climbed up the porch steps. When Big first mentioned Phillips’ name, I thought he had the wrong guy. I’d always known him as the goofball park ranger who took his job way too fucking seriously. I certainly never thought of him as the kind of man who’d hurt an innocent woman.

  When we reached the front door, it didn’t surprise me that there wasn’t much to his place. Everyone had heard about his nasty divorce, and after he’d lost everything and had to start over, he ended up in this house—a old, small two-bedroom ranch with an attached garage that was in dire need of a paint job. The grass looked like it hadn’t been mowed in weeks. With their guns drawn, Stitch and Maverick stepped in front of Cotton and me, then Q fell behind us as we approached the door. After noticing it was slightly open, Maverick turned to Cotton and asked, “What do you wanna do here, Prez?”

  “We’re going in.”

  “You got it.” Maverick used his shoulder to ease the door open, then stepped inside the house. “Don? You home?”

  When he didn’t answer, Maverick and Stitch continued to move forward, and Cotton, Q, and I followed after. The interior of the house looked much like the exterior—run down. The furniture was worn and dated, and shit was strewn everywhere. The mess was quickly forgotten when Maverick shouted, “Hey, Prez! He’s in here.”

  Q and I followed Stitch and Cotton into the kitchen, and we all stopped dead in our tracks when we found Don Phillips lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Before I could stop myself, I muttered, “Holy shit.”

  “Any sign of Lauren?” Cotton asked as he scanned the kitchen.

  “No, sir,” Maverick answered. “At least, not in here.”

  “Need to find out if she’s here.” Cotton walked over to the kitchen door and looked outside. “Check the bedroo
ms and the garage.”

  No one replied. We simply dispersed and started examining the different rooms. While Maverick and Stitch went down the hall to see if Lauren was in one of the bedrooms, Q and I went out to the garage. Q opened the door, and I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me when I spotted a chair in the corner of the room. Next to it were several pieces of rope and the bracelet Cotton had given Lauren when he and Cass adopted her. My mind immediately started racing with the most unimaginable thoughts. It nearly broke me to think of something happening to Lauren. I didn’t have time to panic, so I turned to Q and asked, “You seeing what I am?”

  “Yeah, I see it.” Q walked over and picked up the bracelet. He sounded distraught when he said, “There’s no doubt she was here.”

  “We need to tell the others.”

  Q nodded, then followed me back into the house. When we got to the kitchen, we found Maverick and Stitch waiting for us with Cotton. Q gave the bracelet to Cotton and said, “She was here, but no idea where she’s gone.”

  “Dammit.” He glared down at Phillips and gave him a hard kick. “Where the hell is she!”

  When he didn’t budge, Q leaned over him to get a better look and asked, “Is he alive?”

  “No idea.” Maverick knelt down and placed his fingers on Phillips’ neck. After several seconds, he looked up at us and announced, “He’s got a pulse.”

  Stitch knelt down next to Maverick and ripped open Phillips’ shirt, checked the two bullet wounds at his shoulder, then rolled him on his side and examined his back. As he lowered him back on the ground, Stitch muttered, “Whoever did this to him was a lousy fucking shot. Both bullets missed his heart and went straight through the meat of his shoulder.”

  “Not that it matters. The motherfucker’s not gonna do us any good like this.” Q shook his head with repulsion. “He’s out cold.”