her, then she’s ours. So get the fuck out , bitch. We’re on a goddamn schedule.”
Stomach roiling, I open the door and step into the glare of headlights and a dozen stares.
“Pat her down, man,” Sherlock says.
Every muscle stiffens as Val starts running his hands over me, tweaking my tits with his fingers, breathing heavy in my face. He finds the burner tucked into the back of my jeans and clucks his tongue. “Naughty girl likes to shove things down her pants.”
“Fuck off.”
“Oh, I will. Just gotta make sure there’s nothing else down there first.” His fingers push down the front of my jeans.
I stare ahead, jaw clenched. He doesn’t shove his fingers into me like I expect. Instead he pulls his hand out of my pants without touching my pussy and moves down, sliding his hands over my thighs.
“She had a knife in her boot at the fight,” Sherlock reminds him.
Valentine finds the knife. And the hope inside me sinks when he starts checking the cast. He slips his long fingers down between the brace and my skin, right into the phone.
He hesitates for an instant. Then keeps going, checking the hems of my jeans.
“She’s clean,” he says. His eyes are on mine as he gets to his feet.
He’s still an asshole. Such a fucking asshole. But I could kiss him right now.
“Then get her into the fucking van,” Sherlock says. “And let’s roll.”
• • •
Jack
The hood of her truck is still warm. I didn’t pass a single fucking car riding out here. But they couldn’t have gone long. Not more than a half hour. So they likely took a side road. That’ll help them hide a little longer, but it’ll also slow them down.
Gunner’s searching through the truck cab, hoping to find her burner. Maybe she had time to snap a picture, get a license plate.
“Anything?”
He shakes his head, looks down the road. “You think they might have headed to the airfield—made her fly them out of here?”
“I called in. Her boss hasn’t seen anyone but the regulars.” I’ll send one of the brothers there to look around, anyway.
“Stone got a ping from her phone yet?”
“No,” I say and rub at my chest. He might not get a fix on her GPS. Out here in the middle of nowhere, there’s a hundred fucking dead zones. And if she’s on a side road, the chances of picking up a signal from her phone are even lower. “The prez and the veep are headed out to the Eighty-Eight’s farm.”
“You got eyes on the clubhouse?”
“Yeah.” Two brothers waiting to see if anything other than a bike drives out to the Hangmen’s home. I don’t expect them to see anything. Not with the way Sherlock grabbed her and got out so damn fast. Like he’s on a deadline. Which means I’m running out of fucking time.
My cell buzzes. Stone. My blood’s pounding in my ears as I answer it. “You got something?”
“A hit on her phone’s GPS. It’s gone again, but she was on Black Butte Road.”
I’m on my bike before he finishes telling me, firing up the engine. “You know which direction they’re heading?”
“No. If I get another hit, I’ll know.”
I look to Gunner. Leaving the house, I only grabbed my holster and extra ammo. “What are you carrying?”
“Just the .45 I’m packing and some toys in the saddlebags. Two semi-autos, clips, a couple grenades.”
Not much. But it’ll be enough.
Just hold on, Lily. We’re coming for you.
And we’re going to mow the fuckers down.
• • •
Lily
They push me out of the van and I stumble out into the pale morning sun, pain shooting through my ankle. Leaves crunch under my feet. An abandoned farm, it looks like. The house is weathered, the porch sagging and windows broken.
His gaze on the overgrown lane, Sherlock says to Val, “Get her inside until the boss arrives.”
Val grabs my elbow, hauls me along. My ankle throbs with every step. A cable tie binds my wrists behind my back, the plastic cutting into my skin.
A screen door hangs on its hinges. Inside it
Stomach roiling, I open the door and step into the glare of headlights and a dozen stares.
“Pat her down, man,” Sherlock says.
Every muscle stiffens as Val starts running his hands over me, tweaking my tits with his fingers, breathing heavy in my face. He finds the burner tucked into the back of my jeans and clucks his tongue. “Naughty girl likes to shove things down her pants.”
“Fuck off.”
“Oh, I will. Just gotta make sure there’s nothing else down there first.” His fingers push down the front of my jeans.
I stare ahead, jaw clenched. He doesn’t shove his fingers into me like I expect. Instead he pulls his hand out of my pants without touching my pussy and moves down, sliding his hands over my thighs.
“She had a knife in her boot at the fight,” Sherlock reminds him.
Valentine finds the knife. And the hope inside me sinks when he starts checking the cast. He slips his long fingers down between the brace and my skin, right into the phone.
He hesitates for an instant. Then keeps going, checking the hems of my jeans.
“She’s clean,” he says. His eyes are on mine as he gets to his feet.
He’s still an asshole. Such a fucking asshole. But I could kiss him right now.
“Then get her into the fucking van,” Sherlock says. “And let’s roll.”
• • •
Jack
The hood of her truck is still warm. I didn’t pass a single fucking car riding out here. But they couldn’t have gone long. Not more than a half hour. So they likely took a side road. That’ll help them hide a little longer, but it’ll also slow them down.
Gunner’s searching through the truck cab, hoping to find her burner. Maybe she had time to snap a picture, get a license plate.
“Anything?”
He shakes his head, looks down the road. “You think they might have headed to the airfield—made her fly them out of here?”
“I called in. Her boss hasn’t seen anyone but the regulars.” I’ll send one of the brothers there to look around, anyway.
“Stone got a ping from her phone yet?”
“No,” I say and rub at my chest. He might not get a fix on her GPS. Out here in the middle of nowhere, there’s a hundred fucking dead zones. And if she’s on a side road, the chances of picking up a signal from her phone are even lower. “The prez and the veep are headed out to the Eighty-Eight’s farm.”
“You got eyes on the clubhouse?”
“Yeah.” Two brothers waiting to see if anything other than a bike drives out to the Hangmen’s home. I don’t expect them to see anything. Not with the way Sherlock grabbed her and got out so damn fast. Like he’s on a deadline. Which means I’m running out of fucking time.
My cell buzzes. Stone. My blood’s pounding in my ears as I answer it. “You got something?”
“A hit on her phone’s GPS. It’s gone again, but she was on Black Butte Road.”
I’m on my bike before he finishes telling me, firing up the engine. “You know which direction they’re heading?”
“No. If I get another hit, I’ll know.”
I look to Gunner. Leaving the house, I only grabbed my holster and extra ammo. “What are you carrying?”
“Just the .45 I’m packing and some toys in the saddlebags. Two semi-autos, clips, a couple grenades.”
Not much. But it’ll be enough.
Just hold on, Lily. We’re coming for you.
And we’re going to mow the fuckers down.
• • •
Lily
They push me out of the van and I stumble out into the pale morning sun, pain shooting through my ankle. Leaves crunch under my feet. An abandoned farm, it looks like. The house is weathered, the porch sagging and windows broken.
His gaze on the overgrown lane, Sherlock says to Val, “Get her inside until the boss arrives.”
Val grabs my elbow, hauls me along. My ankle throbs with every step. A cable tie binds my wrists behind my back, the plastic cutting into my skin.
A screen door hangs on its hinges. Inside it
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