by Ker Dukey
“Maybe she went for groceries?” Glen chimes in.
“She isn’t picking up her cell,” I growl. “You can shop and answer your phone at the same time.”
“She got a call earlier.” PB raises his hand like we’re in a classroom.
“Elaborate,” Rage orders, saving me the effort.
“Someone called. She ran up the stairs to get it.” He shrugs.
All eyes turn to the front door as it blasts open. Jameson walks in like a horsemen of the apocalypse carrying a black bag, a timid woman trailing behind him. She looks familiar. “We have a problem,” Jameson seethes.
“Doc,” Rage nods toward the woman, and it hits me where I know her from. She’s the doctor who took care of Jameson’s bullet wound a few months back. “What’s in the bag?” Rage looks around me to the duffel.
“A fucking kill kit.” My head swivels to Jameson. Stomping over to the bag, I unzip it. “The storm knocked a tree through Monroe’s house. She called me thinking someone had broken in, and I brought her to stay with me.”
“Wait, what?”
“We’re neighbors,” the doc offers.
“Coincidental.” Jameson half shrugs, looking anywhere but at me.
Rage snorts, and Jameson shoots him the bird. There’s nothing coincidental about him buying that house if she’s his neighbor.
“Anyway, when we were clearing shit up, we found this—and blood.”
“So someone did break in?” PB asks.
“I’m thinking the tree coming through the fucking window wasn’t part of his plan.”
Jameson holds up a clear bag, a shard of glass smeared with blood inside. “You think Copper can get this analyzed for us, find out who it belongs to?”
Rage seizes the bag, looking it over. “If the owner of this blood is on file.”
“Do it,” I bark. “Tell Copper we’ll be in his debt if he gets a rush on this. And call everyone home. Drew’s missing.”
“What?” Jameson freezes.
I nod, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Could be nothing, could be everything.”
I try her cell again—nothing. Where the fuck are you, Drew? I rode to every fucking grocery store in a twenty-mile radius, checked hospitals, police stations—nothing. She wouldn’t leave me again. Would she?
“Any word?” I ask Rage, who shakes his head no.
“Half the brothers haven’t shown. You want to get someone to chase the motherfuckers down?” I ask, barely containing the fire raging inside me.
“A lot of property damage from the storm. Trees blocking roads and shit. They’ll be here, Prez.”
The contents of the bag splayed out on the church table forces blood to roar in my head.
“Ice took prints. He’s with his uncle for access to the database.”
I run my gaze over the contents: zip ties, gags, an array of knives. Sick bastard. A small hunting knife draws my attention. I pick up the small blade I gave Drew on her thirteenth birthday. My jaw flexes. Every muscle ripples under my skin. “It’s one of us,” I choke out, the room spinning.
“What?” Rage jerks his head forward like he didn’t hear me right.
“This bastard is one of us.” I hold up the knife up. “This is Drew’s. She left it here eight years ago. In my room.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
“No way. I know every one of these guys. They’re our brothers.”
“So was Mitch,” I growl. Drew, Drew, Drew. “What if whoever it is took her?” I exhale, the realization of that being a possibility hitting me like a ton of bricks.
“Who was here last night?”
“Just stragglers—mostly prospects at the club when the sirens went off.”
“We need to call everyone in. This motherfucker was injured—we look for a fucking injury.” Rage slams his fist on the table. “If it is one of ours…”
“He has to go to ground,” I finish for him.
“She will come home, sweetie,” Jackie coos when I walk into the bar, staring at the packed room full of brothers all waiting for their leader to give them some fucking news. I have none. Drew isn’t home, and everyone who showed was checked for injury—nothing. The few brothers who haven’t made it in were sent out on business or dealing with personal shit. Mason called to say Heidi’s waters broke. Halo was with him for some reason. Kai was doing a job for me and said he got stuck outta town because of the storm. That left Hog—who was supposed to be in rehab.
“Prez, what’s going on?” someone calls out.
“It’s looking likely that the serial killer terrorizing our city is closer to home. Broke into Jameson’s ol lady’s house last night,” I tell the brothers gathered together awaiting instruction.
An array of whispers and grunts fill the air. “He got injured and left a blood trail, which is being followed. In the meantime, Drew vanished of the face of the earth. Cameras were knocked out by the storm. All we know is she was here—then she wasn’t. I want everyone out on the streets, clubs, every corner of this city. I need her found.”
The room thins out as motorcycles roar to life outside. I want to be out there with them, but what if she comes back and I’m not here?
“You want a drink?” Amy calls from behind the bar.
“No. I need to keep my head clear.”
My cell lights up with a call from Copper. “Talk to me.”
“I’m ten minutes away. You at the club?”
“Yeah.”
“See you in ten. Prepare yourself a stiff fucking drink.”
Great.
Jameson and Rage sit beside me, waiting for Copper to arrive and spill his guts. “Where’s Gracie?” Rage pipes up, looking over to the bar where she usually is.
“Was she not with you last night?” I ask.
He pulls out his phone, shooting off a text to her. “Nah. She went to check on her mother’s house.”
“He’s here.” Rage lifts his head to Copper walking across the room. He’s suited and booted, carrying a fucking computer bag—nothing like the rough biker here the other night.
He slips into the seat opposite me, a grimace on his face.
“So?” I ask.
“The blood lab is taking too long, but I got Drew’s phone records sent over and pulled some surveillance tapes from a store on the corner of Ms. Monroe’s street, taken before the storm interfered with the signal.”
Thick saliva coats the back of my throat, making it difficult to swallow. My eyes train on his lips, waiting for the words to come out. He slides over a sheet of paper with numbers and times, and Rage snatches it up. “Gracie was who called her.”
“Maybe she was in trouble?” Jameson offers. Rage brings his phone to his ear, calling Gracie. No answer.
“Fuck.”
Copper pulls a laptop out and starts it up. “You need to see this.”
“Is it one of mine?” I ask, wanting to bring the world down around the motherfuckers feet if it is. We’re a fucking brotherhood. How dare whoever the fuck betray that.
“I recognized him right away. He came with us to take out the Demons.”
I want to claw at my skin and roar until the foundations tremble and my girl is back in my arms.
“Who is it?” we all ask in union.
He flips the screen of his laptop around for us to see, and I want to put my fist through it.
Despair cuts into my heart. If he has Drew, she’s probably dead.
“I pinged your girl’s cell phone. Got a hit from a cell tower and sent someone I trust to check it out.”
“Where?!” I choke out, almost turning over the table as I get to my feet.
“Prez, let us go just in case…”
In case she’s fucking dead…
“WHERE?!”
Twenty-Eight
Drew
Hours earlier…
“I need you to come meet me.”
“Why the hell would I do that? And why do you have Gracie’s phone?” I scoff, checking out the windows to see th
e damage of the storm. Debris lays scattered, but everything looks intact.
“Gracie’s with me. And because I have the man who killed your aunt here.”
My heart skips a beat. “You know who killed her?”
“Drew, I got injured taking him out. I need your fucking help.”
I pull on a pair of jeans and a tee, then slip on one of Gracie’s coats she left here and grab the keys to one of the trucks used for runs.
I type the address into the navigation, and it only takes fifteen minutes to get there. I pull up to what looks like an abandoned building with a chained fence and graffiti painted over the walls. “I should have burrowed a gun.” I sag in the seat.
Gracie: I see you. Come inside.
I check my boot for the knife I sheathed there and think about texting Alec so he doesn’t wonder where I am, but another text comes through, urging me to move inside.
Gracie: Bleeding out in here.
Walking around the building to find an entrance point leaves me uneasy. Why the fuck would he come here? There’s a car parked outside the building. A basic sedan. Pink fluffy steering wheel. Gracie.
I push at the door on the side of the building, and it creaks open. This is fucking crazy, I repeat over in my head.
I get one step inside before I’m shoved from behind, a hand grabbing my phone from my grip.
My hands rush out in front of me as I brace to fall, almost face-planting an old table with a rusted sewing machine bolted to it.
“What the fuck?” I bark, swirling on him.
“Had to make sure you weren’t followed.”
“By pushing me? Dickhead,” I bark.
He’s cradling his left arm, blood saturating the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Kai, what’s going on?” I ask, raising my hand, holding out my palm for my phone.
“Can’t let you have this. Sorry, princess.” His breathing is staggered.
“Kai!” I screech when he chucks my phone out a window.
“Why are you here? What is this place?”
“Doesn’t matter…” He inhales a deep breath. “I fucked up and need to leave town.”
“What? Why? Who did that to you? Where’s Gracie?” I look around, seeing nothing but trash and dust.
“You started my need for blood, you know.” He tries to smile over at me, but pain slices through his features.
“What are you talking about?” I move toward him, and he balks a little.
“You’re not afraid of me, asshole. Let me see your arm.”
Sliding down the wall, his ass thuds when it hits the dirty floor.
Carefully, I lift his hoodie, tugging it over his head and then delicately down his arm, wincing when it sticks to the blood congealing there. “You need a doctor.” I grimace. A coughing laugh rattles from his chest. “If only you knew how ironic that is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I was at a doctor’s house when this happened.” Frowning from his cryptic shit, I pull the sleeve the rest of the way off his arm, and wince at the gash in his upper arm. It’s sliced so deep, I can see bone. Acid burns up my gullet with the need to gag. “You really need to get to the hospital.”
“Just tie something around the top of my arm to stop the bleeding.”
I look around for a rope or ties. I cannot use anything from here, an infection is guaranteed. Pulling my knife from my boot, I cut through his hoodie to use for a bandage.
“You’re the only bitch I know who carries a knife in her shoes.” He smiles, sweat coating his brow.
“Well, you never know when you’re going to need one,” I counter, wrapping the fabric around his arm.
“Argh! Fuck!” he growls, kicking out in pain.
“Sorry. It has to be tight.” I go to move, freezing when the blade of my knife gets pushed against the delicate skin of my throat. “What the fuck are you doing?” I breathe. I could risk tackling him, plunging my fingers into his injury, but he could kill me if he nicks my artery…
“You’re so fucking pretty, do you even notice it? You’ll look so pretty wearing my scars.”
“Kai,” I implore, holding up my hands. “I came here to help you.”
“You came here because I told you I had your aunt’s killer.”
“I came here because you said you were hurt. I didn’t even like my aunt, what do I care about who killed her?” I lie, feeling guilty for even saying the words.
His brow furrows, the hand at my throat wavering.
“She was a cunt, probably pissed off the wrong person.”
He closes his eyes, briefly licking his lips. “I’m thirsty.”
“I have water in the truck,” I implore, trying my luck, but he knows better than that.
“Your aunt was just unfortunate to be related to you,” he states, ignoring my comment.
“What?” My knees are starting to hurt kneeling on this crusty ass floor.
“I wanted to see if her death would draw you out—and it did.”
No. No. He didn’t—wouldn’t…
“Your face is so animated. It tells me everything you’re thinking. Like how much you try to hate me but can’t help feeling attracted to me. Compelled to keep my secrets and share them with me. Does Animal know how bad you have it for me?”
He’s delusional...
“I liked it,” he admits, shifting to sit up more. His arm is shaky, the distance between my flesh and the blade widening. I take my shot, pushing at his arm while moving my body backward out of reach, my ass skidding along with the dirt when I fall.
Jolting forward, he attempts to reach me, but I throw an old broken chair toward him, hitting him in the injured arm, halting his progress. “Fuck!” he roars, swallowing the pain.
I get to my feet the same time he does, our gazes holding, intense, terrifying. “Did you bring me here to kill me?” I ask, my own lungs squeezing, making it hard to breathe.
His eyebrows draw in. “No! God, no! You don’t get it, do you? I fucking love you.”
He’s crazy. Anxiety chews its way up my spine, making every hair stand at attention. “I like fucking killing.” He waves the knife around like he’s talking about a hobby. “The crimson swell of the first cut, the fear in their eyes, the power surge—it all gives me a rush. But that’s just a little part of who I am.”
“You’re fucking sick, Kai. You need professional help.”
“You, though…” He points the tip in my direction, his eyes dancing with madness. “You’ve never been scared of me. You’re a fighter, and damn, princess, I’ve never been able to get you outta my head.”
“Because you’re insane.” I grit my teeth.
“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. I got sloppy, wanted a taste of Jameson’s sister. He was flaunting her pictures that day…” his head bounces up and down. “You remember.”
My heart stammers, bringing my hand up to cover my mouth.
“Didn’t realize she wouldn’t be there. They’re usually both alone at the house, but he was home, and they weren’t, so I took the next best option: the pretty doctor bitch he’s so sweet on next door.”
“You hurt someone else?” I choke out.
Anger washes over his face as he aims the tip of the knife toward his arm. “I’m the one who got hurt.”
“Did Jameson do that?”
“No,” he sneers like that’s an insult. “Tree came through the window and the glass sliced through my arm. It could have fucking killed me.”
It’s a shame it didn’t.
“Let me out of here, Kai. If you love me like you say you do, let me leave.”
He ponders that for a moment, and when he steps aside, air fills my lungs. I step forward, and he doesn’t move, so I edge advancing another step, and another. I don’t want to turn my back on him. Blood rushes in my veins, making my head woozy.
“Actually,” he says, thrusting toward me. I attempt to race past him, but his fist grabs a handful on my hair, the sharp blade he ha
s clenched in the same fist scraping over my scalp. I kick out, flaying. I reach up to loosen his hold, and the blade cuts into my skin, setting the flesh ablaze. “Stop fucking fighting!” he booms. With unnatural strength, he tosses me forward. My feet tangle up in a sheet of plastic, and before I can control it, I’m sailing through the air, my head crashing down against the table. My body lands in a mess of limbs. Everything hurts. Shadows seep out from the corners, swallowing me whole.
A breeze hums over my skin, making me shiver. My eyelids feel heavy and weighted. Throbbing marches in my skull. Where am I? Memories come flooding in, stiffening my posture. I crack open my eyes farther, taking in the surroundings of the derelict building Kai lured me too. Alec has to be going out of his damn mind. My chest cavity aches. I move my limbs to find my hands won’t budge. Yanking my arms harder tightens fabric tied around my wrists. Tracking the path to the sewing machine my nerves fray, I’m bound to it with my own shirt.
No, no, no…please. I check the rest of my body, almost weeping in relief to find my jeans still on.
Relaxing my limbs loosen the fabric slightly, the binding not as secure as he could have been if he had two good arms. I could try and work my wrists free…
“Sorry about your shirt. Didn’t want you fighting me again. Not while I’m fucked up anyway. You hurt yourself.” Kai’s voice carries across from beside the door. I feel the stinging cuts on my hands and the throbbing lump on my head.
“Shhh,” he warns, placing a finger to his mouth, his eyes tracking something through the sliver of the window visible between a couple panels of wood.
Is someone out there?
“How long was I out?” I ask, trying to distract him.
“Hours. I managed to get some sleep and grabbed the water out of your truck. You weren’t lying about that.” I was. If he found water, it was coincidental. Hours? Christ. Alec, Alec, Alec.
“Kai, if you’re not going to kill me, why am I here?”
His back goes flat against the wall, his eyes expanding teeth gritting. A creaking of the door draws my eyes, as it slowly opens.