They'd all given her their numbers in case she needed anything. She needed help. Right now.
She texted.
Help! 2 men put me in a blue car.
She looked around outside. Not familiar with the area, she had no idea where they were going. Spotting a sign, she blindly texted.
Evergreen Street, gas station, school.
Gritting her teeth, she realized they weren't staying in town. They drove onto the on-ramp for the interstate.
I-90 east hurry.
She glanced at the phone, thankful she hadn't made any spelling mistakes, and the men would be able to read the message.
Putting the phone back in her purse, she used her hand to search through the contents of her bag in search of the knife she always carried with her. Wrapping her fingers around the handle, she flipped the blade out and dropped her bag on the floor between her feet. She'd need to plan carefully. If she attacked one of them while on the highway, they could wreck.
The passenger glanced over his shoulder at her. "Don't you talk?"
She talked when she wanted to talk. Not when everyone thought she should.
"Your dad cares about you." The man turned around. "He paid us a lot of money to make sure you stayed safe."
"I was safe before you kidnapped me," she said, breaking her silence.
Unbelievable. Away from Seattle, she would've thought her dad would've stopped relying on others to keep her doing what he wanted her to do. Her dad was in Spokane. Why wasn't he the one trying to keep her safe if there was danger around?
Not once growing up had she ever witnessed anything dangerous or been put into a scary situation. Yet, like today, men would grab her, and she'd find out they worked for her dad. Each time she came face to face with the men her dad hired, she got more pissed off at him.
"One more street over, and you'd be entering gang territory. They'd take one look at you and have you working the street." The driver looked in the mirror at her. "You don't wear Killere colors. You really should if you're going to be out and about."
"Okay, so I was in the wrong area. You've brought me to the right area, so let me out." She pointed. "Right there. Stop, and I'll walk the rest of the way."
"Too late. We did our job. We're taking you back to the shop. Dice can come and get you."
She held the knife beside her leg, out of view of the men. In the past, there were others which her dad had hired to take care of her. Another slap in the face that she wasn't good enough for her dad to want anything to do with her.
Through the years, she'd met people estranged from their families. Most of them chose to live a different life away from the support of those they were related to because of the toxicity of their relationships.
She'd never met anyone like her who had parents that pushed her away one minute and then used others to prove she would always need them. But not once had they ever showed her they were there for her.
The car slowed, creeping up to the stop sign. The moment the driver brought the vehicle to a complete stop, she held the knife's blade to the driver's neck.
"Hit the switch to unlock the back doors." She pressed the tip of the knife to his skin, careful not to make him bleed.
The sight and smell of someone else's blood made her nauseous. She found that out when she was fourteen years old, and she'd swung a metal thermos at one of the men trying to drag her to her dad. She'd cracked open his head. Before she could get away, she'd passed out.
"Whoa, nobody is going to hurt you." The passenger put his hands up. "Put down the knife. Your dad didn't pay us to get hurt."
"Unlock the door first."
A click echoed between her heartbeats. She grabbed for the handle, getting the door open. Jumping out, she ran. She had no idea where she was going. All she wanted to do was get away from the men who'd kidnapped her.
Chapter Twenty Two
Dice jumped from his chair and stalked to the door of the diner with his cell phone plastered to his ear. Romeo dropped the last bite of hamburger on the plate in front of him and slid out of the booth to follow Timber's dad.
Across the booth, Creamer looked up. "Where's the fire?"
He shook his head at the old man. "That's what I'd like to know."
Dice no longer acted like a Killere member. He was Timber's dad, and that concerned him. Anything to do with her, he wanted to know about.
Outside, Dice looked around, unaware Romeo followed him. He stayed behind Dice, straining to hear the conversation, but there was an eighteen-wheeler idling fifty feet away, buffering Dice's voice.
Dice shoved the cell in his pocket and took off walking in the direction of the clubhouse. Romeo surged forward, matching Dice step for step.
"Problem?" he asked.
"Nothing I can't handle."
"You're known to have trouble surrounding you. What's different this time?"
"Timber's missing," said Dice.
Romeo slapped Dice in the chest, stopping him from walking. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I'll handle it."
"I swear on the patch, man. If she's hurt, I will come after you." Romeo cocked his head, challenging him. "Where is she?"
"The men I hired caught her on the wrong side of town and were bringing her back when she pulled a knife on them and took off. They lost her," grumbled Dice.
"Jesus Christ." He grabbed Dice by the front of his vest. "Did they hurt her?"
"They were doing their job." Dice pushed away. "They were bringing her back to the tattoo shop and going to call me to pick her up, but she jumped them and took off. She's used a knife before. Hell, I gave her that knife."
His jaw cramped. "Where is she now?"
"I don't know. I'm going to go look for her."
Shoving away from Dice, he grabbed his phone out of his pocket to call in a few more riders and noticed he had several texts.
"Fuck. Dice. Stay here." He turned off airplane mode and quickly scanned the messages from Timber and then more texts from his brothers, all getting the same sense of emergency from her. "Jesus...she's called everyone for help."
"Not me," said Dice.
Romeo gave up trying to text his brothers back because his fingers were shaking. He should've turned on the phone immediately after the club meeting earlier. His mistake cost valuable time in finding Timber.
He called Timber until the call went to voice mail. "She's not answering."
"I know she's not. Don't you think I already called her."
While Dice paced in front of him, he called Brody. "Where are you?"
"Home."
"Timber's not there?"
"No. I've got everyone out there looking for her. I stayed here in case she showed up."
He gritted his teeth. "I'm leaving the clubhouse now, coming in from the east side. Call if you find her."
"Risk level?" asked Brody.
"High. Fucking high," he muttered, disconnecting the call.
Since they were teenagers, trying to survive, they'd had code words for situations they found themselves in. A low-risk level involved one of the brothers watching the back of another brother. But a high-risk level meant anything could happen, including killing someone.