“You okay, man?” I ask him.
“She was…I talked to her. We were dancing, right before,” he says as he stares at the screen of his phone.
“I know,” I tell him. “Danny, get the video out now. What else?”
“Like I mentioned before, we know it’s a North Carolina license plate, LVA eighteen-eighty-three.”
“That’s plenty to go off of. Have you run a search?” I ask.
“We have. The van is registered to Hessler’s Flooring Company in New Bern, and no surprise, it was reported stolen earlier this week.”
“Does Hessler have any video or anything showing who took it?”
“No. But we’re attempting to access some of the cameras in their neighborhood and here in the city to see if we can figure out where it went.” By ‘accessing’, I know he really means hacking. At this point, that may be all we can depend on since it was late and dark last night, probably flying under the radar as far as witnesses go.
“Anything else?”
“The four suspects appear to be white males in their twenties or thirties at most. The passenger has a black dagger tattoo on his lower right arm that he had resting in the open window. We’ll share the image with some tattoo artists in North and South Carolina to see if anyone recognizes their handiwork. If so, we may be able to get a name.”
“Great work, Danny. Keep at it and let us know if you get any calls with leads. Until then, the guys and I, along with our hired staff, will split up and start on either end of the city, checking every hotel, every residence for that van until we get more specifics from you. Email or text all the Kings with any updates.”
“Will do,” he says before ending the call.
“Everyone got that?” I ask the men at the table who all give a solemn nod. “Then divide up who is going where and get started. Nolan, contact all of our employees. Shut down businesses while they get out to search.”
“Shut them down?” Nolan repeats in surprise.
“Shut them down. It’s the off-season, and we can afford the temporary closures. Right now we need more eyes on the streets.”
“Will do, prez,” he agrees.
“Marcus, can you contact the other chapters in North and South Carolina? Send them the video, license plate number and dagger tattoo information and have them check the highways?”
“I’ll have the email going out within the next five minutes,” he confirms.
“What are you going to do?” Charlotte asks me softly.
“You and I are going to pay a visit to the police chief to see if we can get him off his ass.”
“Good,” she says.
“Meeting adjourned,” I announce before slamming down the gavel. “Everyone communicates in a group text or email with all updates. Maybe Nolan can get the information to Danny to put one together with all the staff and members.”
“On it,” he says.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte
* * *
I have to admit that I’m impressed. Roman is an amazing leader. He’s smart and thorough. It was impossible to miss the way the other guys at the table looked at him with respect and admiration in their eyes. Those men would do anything for Roman, which hopefully means they will do whatever it takes to find Tessa and bring her home safe.
“In here, you can lose your cool all you want,” Roman says when he parks his bike in front of the police station.
“Like you could stop me if you tried,” I tell him. “I’ve already been here once today. You know what the officer I spoke to told me?”
“What?” Roman asks, taking the helmet from my hands and hanging it on the handlebar.
“He told me she probably got cold feet and ran away. Why would she run away from her friends? She’s not marrying us!”
“What a fucking idiot,” he mutters. “Come on.”
Just as we’re about to reach the door, Roman’s phone dings in his pocket. He pulls it out and reads the screen. “What’s up?” I ask.
“The video just went live on the MC’s page. Let’s hope it goes viral.”
“I’ll share it right now,” I tell him as I grab my device from my purse and quickly find their page. While we are walking up to the clerk’s window, I post it with a message to please keep sharing it until we find Tessa.
I’ve just finished up when Roman tells the policewoman on the other side of the bullet proof glass, “I need to see Chief Bailey.”
“It’s Saturday,” she replies while blinking at him, as if that’s some obvious information.
“I don’t give a shit if it’s Christmas fucking Eve. I need to see the Chief, so you call and tell him to get his fat ass in here right now!”
My chest seizes at Roman’s anger, worried that they will throw us out of here or arrest us before we get to talk to anyone.
But then, to my surprise, the police officer picks up her phone and says, “Sorry to bother you on your day off, Chief, but Roman McNamara is here demanding to speak to you.”
Turning to Roman, who looks calm and cool despite his yelling, I whisper, “How does she know your name? You didn’t tell her.”
“Remember what I said? I’ve got more authority in this city than the mayor and this entire department combined. I let them pretend to be in charge, and they do what the fuck I say.”
“Oh,” I mutter in disbelief. “Well, this is important…”
“It is,” he agrees while running his fingers through the front of his reddish-brown curls. “Which is why I don’t give a shit if the chief is playing golf with the local business elite. He’s going to get in here and get to work helping us find Tessa and the fuckers who took her.”
The timing may be all wrong, but in this moment, I can’t help but think that Roman McNamara is the hottest man I’ve ever met.
Roman
“How dare you post that damn video all over the place!” Chief Bailey accuses me, face red and angry.
“The people in this city deserve to know what’s happening in their own fucking streets,” I tell him. “Now, are you going to help us find Tessa Singleton or not?”
I’m not asking him to help find the assholes responsible. No, the MC will track them down and make them pay in a way that doesn’t require a judge, jury or trial. Our punishment will be swift and just for whatever they do to Tessa. Just for kidnapping her, we’ll kill them. If they laid a finger on her? Well, we’ll make them suffer for a very long time before we end their miserable existence to ensure that they never hurt another woman again.
“You have no idea what this type of thing will do to the tourist economy,” the chief says.
“Fuck the economy,” I mutter in disgust.
“Easy for you to say since your MC could make it through a downturn, but what about those individuals in the restaurant business or in retail, not to mention the hotel industry? Some of them live paycheck to paycheck in the busy season. They won’t make it if we lose even a percent of tourists.”