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 the 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.”