by Nia Farrell
“Beth? That was her name? The one he took to the safehouse?”
“Yeah.” Isabella nodded. “They’re married now, with baby number two on the way.”
Rose wasn’t the only woman she knew who’d been kidnapped. At least Beth’s and Rose’s stories had happy endings. Hopefully, Lee’s would, too.
Mad Dog swept his gaze from his sister to her. “You don’t go anywhere alone. I don’t care if it’s to the fucking mailbox. You set foot outside, you have a man with you for protection. Reaper wouldn’t think twice about taking two women, or killing one of them if he couldn’t handle both. I’m sorry, but until we find him and end this, that’s how it’s going to be.”
Rose had grown up in a clubhouse. Isabella had been raised with the mob. Both of them were smart enough to not argue the point.
“Isabella, I’ll need to let Babe know what’s what and ask him to cover for Lee until we get her back.”
If they got her back. Isabella wasn’t as worried about Val as she was Reaper. He could have taken the cash, left her in the trunk, and let the car roll into a lake somewhere. No one would know for years, if ever.
“Babe?” she asked, shaking off her morbid thoughts.
“Oh, sorry. The big guy at the door. He wanted to play baseball like Babe Ruth but didn’t make the cut. Ended up doing mixed martial arts, then bodyguard work. Now he’s security for us. He’s sharp, though, and knows enough to fill in for Lee when she’s not there.”
Mad Dog hooked a finger under her chin and made her look at him. “You okay?”
She managed to smile. “Yeah. Just creeped out. I’ll be fine. Really.”
“Anything you need before we go back to the clubhouse? You might be stuck there for a while.”
“My car?”
“Fuck. Right. Let me call Uncle Jack and see how soon it will be ready.”
Isabella knelt on the floor and whispered to Sophia, petting her and telling her to be a good girl for Rose and Michael.
Mad Dog put his hand on her hair to let her know that he was done with his call. When she looked up, there was no mistaking the sudden flare of heat in his eyes at the sight of her kneeling.
Mad Dog gave her a bad boy grin and nodded his approval. “He thinks it will be done by noon. He’ll give us a call when it’s ready to pick up.” He looked at Rose and Michael. “We’re headed back to the clubhouse. Come on, Isabella. Let’s let these two get back to work.”
He helped her stand but didn’t let go of her hand as they walked to the door.
“Thanks, Rose. Thank you, Michael. Sophia, you be a good kitty, okay?”
She twitched her fluffy tail and meowed.
Mad Dog squeezed her hand. “She’ll be okay. We can come back tonight if you need to. Maybe she’ll settle in and start eating for Rose.”
“I hope so.” Isabella sighed. “I hate to leave her.”
“It’s only for today. You’ll want to get her home before your folks come back. Do you need to pick them up at the airport or anything? Where are they flying into?”
“Marion. They thought about flying out of Paducah or Evansville, but the fares were cheaper. Unless they’re delayed, they’ll get in just ahead of noon, but I don’t have to pick them up. They drove themselves.”
“We’ll have tomorrow morning to get Sophia settled in. I want to talk to your dad as soon as he’s willing to listen to me. He needs to know about Reaper and Krissy. Right now, he thinks that I slept with your sister. There’s no fucking way he’s going to let you stay with me if he can help it. I don’t care what he threatens. I’ll see that you go to college, if he plays that hand. The only thing I can’t trump is getting Sophia back once she’s there. You know he doesn’t want her. If you think he’d keep her just to spite you, maybe we’d better leave her with Rose until we find a place. Instead of interviewing new managers, I’ll get a realtor looking.”
Isabella put a hand on his chest. “Have I told you that you’re my hero?”
“Like in one of your books?”
“Better,” she said. “Because you’re real. This is real.”
Mad Dog pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get home. It looks like I’ve got calls to make.”
While Luke talked to realtors, Isabella took her laptop downstairs in search of Mama Mare. The kitchen was quiet. The lounge had a handful of patched members. This late in the morning, most of them were at work. Carly was cleaning behind the bar and straightened when she saw Isabella.
“What can I get ya for?” she asked, smiling at Isabella’s puzzled expression. “Sorry. That’s my trademark line. Can I get you anything?”
“Um, no. Thank you. I was looking for Mama Mare.”
“I’d say that she went grocery shopping. That’s usually what she does come Monday morning. This crew can eat. And drink. And fuck.” Carly looked at Uncle Jack’s empty barstool and sighed. “Well, most of them do, anyway.”
She nodded at Isabella’s laptop. “Got some goodies to share?”
“Pictures from yesterday. I wanted Luke’s parents to see them first. If you’re interested in photography, I’ll be happy to show you, once they’ve had a chance to look at them.”
Carly brightened at the offer. “I’m calling dibs after family. Since I ain’t getting any, I could use a one-up over the sweetbutts and mamas. Bitches like to brag. A couple of them keep trying to stir shit and make me quit. Ain’t happening,” she said. “I’m too invested. I keep telling myself, one of these days…one of these days….”
Isabella didn’t know how to respond to that, or if she even should.
Carly chuckled and shook her head, making her red ponytail dance. “You’ll find out soon enough about Papa Jack. He stopped sleeping around after he was shot. He’s had plenty of offers. I guess he takes care of business himself. The sluts were none too happy with one good man down, and now the VP’s taken.”
Isabella drew herself up and hugged her laptop like a shield. “They’ll have to get used to it,” she told Carly. “I’m not leaving.”
The barkeep leaned closer, smiled, and whispered over the polished wood between them.
“Neither am I.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabella spent the rest of the morning editing pictures, reducing shadows, adjusting colors, enhancing the natural light, and making crops in different sizes to eventually offer for sale on the internet. Her parents had always discouraged her from doing it.
Things had changed.
She had changed.
Mad Dog had changed, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else but her. Taken, Carly had named him.
Off the market, thought Isabella. She planned to keep him that way.
Mad Dog caught up with her just ahead of noon and saw that she was working. “Do you mind showing them to me again real quick? We have to hurry, though. Lunch is nearly done.”
Warmed by his praise, she opened the folder that she’d made for yesterday’s photographs, pulled up the first picture, and started a slide show.
“I called some realtors,” he told her. “Got ‘em looking for a three-to-four-bedroom house, two baths preferred. I figured we needed an office where you could work and study, and I’d like a space that we could turn into a playroom—although a basement Dungeon would work, too. Rose can’t do basements. Not after what she went through.”
“Trauma changes a person,” Isabella told him. Sometimes for the better, in Matteo’s case. “She can’t help it. Lee won’t be able to help it, either. Once you get her back, she’s bound to have triggers.”
“Yeah.” He inhaled deeply and blew out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been thinking. Or maybe overthinking. I know what we saw. I know what Crash found. What if appearances are deceiving in both cases? I hate to think it, but what if Lee is working with Reaper? I mean, the fucker came out of nowhere. No car. No bike. He was wearing a ski mask in the fucking woods. What if he rode in with her? She could have stopped and let him out down the road, out of sight of anyone in
the parking lot and away from the cameras.”
“I don’t know, Luke. That sounds pretty extreme.”
“Reaper is extreme, Isabella. You have no idea what the man is capable of. Mama Mare wasn’t herself for months after being taken. I don’t know if she’s told Papa Bear everything that happened. She may not even have told her counselor. She may never tell them. It’s been three years, and I still see her doing things that she never did before she was taken.”
“She survived, Luke. She’s a strong woman. A lioness, defending her cub like she did. You’re lucky to have her. I love my mom, but I can’t see her taking a bullet for me. She’d rack it up to God’s will and let Him sort it out.
“Hopefully, Michael can determine if her computer was hacked into. Maybe Reaper’s been in it for weeks or months or however long Lee has worked for you, just waiting to strike.”
Mad Dog swiped a hand across his face. He was still looking at the pictures, but he wasn’t really seeing them, she could tell.
“Let’s say he does find evidence that her computer was hacked, and someone else made it look like she leaked the surveillance video footage. Let’s say that someone was Reaper. How do we know that they didn’t plan it together? How do we know that he did it without her knowledge? Maybe she is working with him—although for the life of me, I don’t know why anyone as intelligent as she is would fall for a man like that. But if she is working with him, they could have been bleeding the club, making invoices for nonexistent goods or services and getting them paid. Fuck. I need Rose to take a good look at the books. See if she can spot any discrepancies. I wish like hell we’d hear from your uncle.”
His nerves had him rambling now.
“He’ll call as soon as he has something to tell you. Meanwhile, Val is looking for her. Didn’t you say her car was this year’s model? If she has OnStar, Uncle Giovanni’s security chief might be able to track her car down, at least.”
“I’m sure they’ve thought of that, but I’d better call, just in case.’
Mad Dog had just taken his phone out of his pocket when it rang. “Yeah.” He looked at the wall clock that was hung near the door. “Sure. Thanks.”
Closing his phone, he turned back to Isabella. “That was from Uncle Jack. Your car’s done. We don’t have time to get there before they close at noon, and they don’t open back up until one. Can you break free from whatever it is you’re doing, long enough to eat now and go get it later? Lunch should be ready downstairs.”
“Sure. Just let me save it.” Isabella clicked the disc icon and added the enhanced picture to her folder. “Done. I’ll come back for my purse. I’ll need my driver’s license to be legal.”
Mad Dog pulled her into his arms for a toe-curling kiss. “Being legal is highly overrated. You need to let go once in a while. Drink a beer. Take a hit when someone’s passing a toke. Park in a fifteen-minute zone when you know damn well it’ll take twenty minutes. ‘Living on the Edge,’” he rumbled. “My favorite fucking song.”
Isabella leaned back to meet his gaze. “Favorite fucking song, or favorite fucking song? It does have that driving rhythm.”
“Dirty girl.” He tsked and shook his head. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Just because I’m half-hard here….”
“Are you?” She batted her lashes at him. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Liar. You’ve been wriggling against it since I kissed you. Don’t try to tell me any different. You’ve already got a spanking coming. When we get back from picking up your car, that ass of yours is mine.”
He slapped her butt, hard enough to make her yelp. “Come on, Isabella. Let’s go eat while there’s some left. I’ve got a couple of brothers who would take my share just to give me a hard time.”
Meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, baked Vidalia onions, and strawberry shortcake were on the menu. Isabella savored every bite.
Mad Dog and his brothers Sam and Richie were headed for seconds when Mad Dog’s cell phone rang.
“Yeah?” He looked at the clock. “Sure. We can come now. Be there in ten.”
Mad Dog ended the call. “That was Uncle Jack. He stayed to finish your car and wants us to get it now. Says he got an emergency repair job and needs the bay freed up. Go get your purse, babe. We’re headed to Daniel’s Den.”
The repair shop looked like something off of a 1960s postcard for services along Route 66. Built of white-painted concrete blocks, it had a dark red tin roof and displayed an assortment of advertising signs on its walls, inside and out.
Uncle Jack unlocked the front door and let them in. “Keys are back here,” he said, already headed that way. “Come on.”
They followed him as far as the front counter. Uncle Jack went to the end and stepped behind it.
“Thanks,” Mad Dog started. “We—”
“That’s far enough.”
The words seized in Luke’s throat when a man rose from behind the counter.
The gun in his hand was pointed at her.
Uncle Jack looked at them in abject apology. “Sorry, pup.”
Isabella recognized the interloper from the robbery. Above his smile were the coldest eyes she’d ever seen, apart from her cousin Matteo’s.
“Reaper.”
“Mad Dog. Thanks for coming.”
“Where’s Lee?” he growled.
“Where I left her. Alive, for now. Though she’s probably wishing she wasn’t. She had fight in her, I’ll give her that.”
“You sonofa—”
“Save it,” Reaper snapped. “The McLanahans owe me a woman, don’t they, Jack? I’ve decided to take yours. From what I’ve seen, she’s competition for her sister.”
Isabella felt the color drain from her face. He’d seen the video. “No! Please! Please, don’t!”
Mad Dog stepped in front of Isabella. “You’ll have to put the both of us down to do it.
“Exactly what I planned on,” Reaper said, pointing an aerosol can at them and sweeping spray from them to Uncle Jack and back to Mad Dog.
The last thing Isabella saw was a pair of ice blue eyes staring out from a full-face gas mask.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mad Dog came to with a pounding headache and a parched throat. Instinctively, he reached for Isabella, but the space beside him was empty.
She was gone.
Gone….
Reaper.
Son of a bitch.
When struggling to his feet proved impossible, he crawled to where Uncle Jack lay, still out of it. “Uncle Jack,” he rasped, shaking him. Getting no response, he checked his vitals. His breaths were shallow but steady. His pulse was regular, with a working man’s rate. “Uncle Jack. Wake up! Reaper’s got Isabella! Come on, old man! You gave her the fuck up. You’re gonna help me find her.”
He needed to call Visconti. Get him looking, too.
Fuck.
He could barely see the keys for the tears blurring his vision. “Mr. Visconti. Luke McLanahan. Isabella’s been taken. We came to pick up her car,” he choked out, “and Reaper was here. The bastard had aerosol sleeping gas and a full mask to protect himself. I just now came to. Uncle Jack’s still down. We got here at twelve-thirty.”
“It’s one-thirty now,” Visconti snapped, already barking orders.
“An hour? Fuck!” Mad Dog felt like his heart was being crushed in a vise. Reaper must have forced Jack to call his crew and cancel work for the day. Otherwise, they’d have found them by now.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and tried not to sound panicked when he spoke again. “Reaper said that Lee was alive when he left her, but it sounds like she’ll be in rough shape. We’ve gotta find her, but we’ve gotta find Isabella before—before…”
He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t think it.
“Just help me find her, okay?” he begged. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything.” He’d sell his soul to the devil if that’s what it took.
“We’ll find her,” Mr. Visconti assured him. “
I’m going to send Marco down. You won’t be able to drive for a while. He’ll take you wherever you say to go. You just tell him where to start looking.”
Mad Dog swiped at his tears. “I don’t know!” he shouted. “I don’t fucking know! Her purse is here. Her phone. Her camera. Everything.”
“What about her car?”
“What?”
“Her car,” Isabella’s uncle repeated. “See if it’s there or gone. Never mind.” There was a moment of silence. “It looks like they’re at Paradise Found. Val should be close, if I can get through to him. So far, nearly every call today has failed. I’m sending a crew. When Marco comes, he’ll take you there. He’s on his way.”
Goddamn Reaper. The fucker took her to the strip club where the video was made, where he’d robbed the safe and taken Lee. Monday was a light day, with shorter hours after the weekend. No nooners, like Tuesday through Sunday. The girls would start trickling in at four. The doors would open at five.
Reaper would be long gone by then. One way or another. He’d had a good thirty to forty minutes there already, allowing five minutes to put an unconscious girl into a car for a fifteen-minute drive. Long enough to—
Stop it! Fucking stop!
“Uncle Jack!” he sobbed his name. “Jack Daniels! Papa Jack!”
Fuck if he didn’t respond to the last one. Goddamn Daddy Dom.
“Papa Jack! You gotta wake the fuck up. Reaper took Isabella! Marco Visconti’s coming to get us. Come on, Uncle Jack. You can do it. Get your ass off the floor. We need to be ready when Marco gets here.”
They were almost to the door when Visconti pulled up in a blacked-out SUV. The two of them managed to get Jack in the back seat. Mad Dog buckled up as Marco peeled out, headed for the strip club.
When they got there, Visconti’s men were standing by Isabella’s car and shaking their heads.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
Mad Dog flipped the door lock and jumped out before the SUV had rolled to a stop. “Where is she? Where—”
“We don’t know.” Matteo Visconti stepped forward. He had a personal grudge with Reaper. It made sense that he’d want to lead the crew that brought him down. “He’s been switching vehicles. Maybe hitching rides. Who the fuck knows? They might be in Lee Rimmer’s Camaro, but they could be in something that we won’t know a goddamn thing about until we find them. There’s nothing registered in his name except his motorcycle. No car. No van. No truck. Just a bike and several properties.”