"Why was she even there?" he asks.
"You texted her, asking to meet," Quinn says.
"What the fuck?” He pales. “No, I didn't."
"I saw the messages."
I turn on him as Dane's body tenses in anger.
"I swear to fucking God, Rhett, I didn't text her. I didn't ask her to meet. I thought we were hanging out with the team. That’s all."
"She got her cell?" I ask Quinn, who's doing her best to comfort Wes, which is pissing me the fuck off. He caused this; he doesn't deserve her fucking sympathy.
"Y-yeah I think so."
Dragging mine from my pocket, I open the tracking app I installed not so long ago.
"You put a tracker on her phone?" Dane asks, coming to look over my shoulder. "Jesus, bro."
"We had a job to do," I say, looking him in the eyes so he can hear my unspoken words.
"Right, so Riv and—" He tilts his head in Quinn's direction, "as well?"
"Yeah."
"Will you two stop talking in riddles?" she demands.
"Club business, Renshaw. None of your concern."
"My best friend is missing. It’s damn well my concern."
"Just patch him up," I bark as the app continues searching. It already shows River and Quinn as being here, but Sadie's cell is taking longer to locate.
"There," I say, jabbing my finger onto the screen. "Let's go."
Dane opens the drawer beneath his bed and pulls out two extra guns, passing one over to me as a wide-eyed Wes looks between the two of us.
"Give me one," he demands, pushing Quinn aside and standing.
"Fuck off, Noble."
"I'm serious. I'm coming with you."
We both stare at him for a beat, and then I say, "You even know how to use one of these?"
"I know the basics." He holds his hand out, waiting for me to pass it over.
"Well?" Dane asks, getting impatient.
"You can come, but you're not having a fucking gun."
Tucking the extra piece into my cut, I take off for the back door once more. "Dane, get the keys to the truck and meet us out front. Don’t raise the alarm. Not yet." Not until we know what we’re dealing with.
"On it."
The three of us take off around the back as Dane heads through the main building to get the keys from the shop.
"Quinn, go back to the party,” I say.
"But—"
"I said go back to the fucking party."
Her lips part to argue again, but I pin her with a look that cuts off whatever argument she might’ve had.
"Fine," she hisses, "but you call me the second you know she's safe."
I nod before looking at Wes. "Let's fucking go. And if you fuck this up, you'll be the one missing. You got that?"
"I want her safe as much as you do."
The image that's been on repeat in my head since the night Dane told me he caught Wes kissing her flickers through my mind and I turn toward him, stopping him from going anywhere other than straight into me.
"Let's get one thing clear here, Pretty Boy." His jaw pops in frustration, but he doesn't say anything. "Sadie is ours. We might be letting you tag along, but she has nothing to do with you, got that?"
He nods.
"Good. Remember that the next time you want to put your fucking mouth on her."
Without another word, I turn and storm away, assuming he'll follow but hoping like hell he takes off in the other direction and leaves us to it.
The location on the tracking app takes us to a warehouse on the outskirts of town. Seeing as it's a Friday night, it's completely deserted with only security lights illuminating the otherwise dark space.
Wes keeps his eyes on the app as Dane rides ahead of us.
"There," Wes pipes up, his arm shooting out as he points at the front corner of a van that's almost completely in the shadows.
"Not completely useless after all," I deadpan.
Parking at the other side of the warehouse, I kill the engine and we climb out as Dane pulls to a stop beside us. Pulling the gun from my pants, I release the safety and waste no time in locating the main door.
If it were anyone else other than Sadie inside, I would probably put a little more thought into my entrance plan. But seeing as it's her, and the only thing I can think of is getting her back safe, I rip the door open and race inside with my gun raised and ready to kill any motherfucker who might have touched what's mine.
What's ours.
2
Sadie
My eyes flutter open, a dull ache radiating through my skull.
What the—
Voices flit in and out of my head as I try to get my bearings, but I’m hit with too many thoughts at once and I flinch as pain ricochets inside my skull.
Wesley.
That traitorous asshole betrayed me.
But why?
“What the fuck, Justin?”
I can just make out a voice. It sounds vaguely familiar, but it isn’t Wes.
“This isn’t what we agreed. This isn’t—”
“Quit being a little bitch, cous,” someone replies. “You wanted to rough her up a little, here’s your chance.”
By the looks of it, I’m in some kind of abandoned warehouse. But before I can get a good look around, approaching footsteps send a bolt of fear through me and I close my eyes again, slumping against the chair I’m tied to.
“Always wondered what Sinners pussy feels like,” one of them says, his voice louder. The air shifts around me, panic rising inside me.
Think, Sadie. Think.
“Justin, man, this isn’t—”
“For fuck’s sake, Evan…”
Evan?
Evan fucking Henley is behind this?
I don’t know what hurts more—that I let Evan get the jump on me, or that Wesley clearly betrayed me.
God, I’m an idiot.
All this time I thought me and Wesley…
I lock those thoughts down. There will be time to deal with his betrayal later. Right now, I need to focus on how the hell I’m going to get out of this.
Whatever this is.
Someone closes in on me. I don’t open my eyes—I don’t dare—but I feel them crouch before me, feel the warmth of their breath. And then I feel something else. The cool smoothness of… Fuck, a gun. Someone is gliding a gun along the curve of my thigh. Fear races down my spine.
Who the fuck are these guys?
I know Evan and Wes are here somewhere, but I’ve never heard of a Justin before.
“Shit, she’s hot. Look at her tits, man. What I wouldn’t pay to get a taste—”
“Seriously, J, I didn’t want… this. I just wanted to scare her a bit. Make her realize she was messing with the wrong guy.”
“Relax, cous.” The air shifts again and I sense Justin stand up. The urge to crack open an eye is strong, but I fight it. I don’t want them to know I’m listening, not yet. Not until I figure out what’s going on… or what they plan to do with me.
“Relax?” Evan balks. “You fucking knocked her out with a tire iron.”