Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“What?” I demand.
“You need to listen.”
“Raff.”
“Josie got a call this morning.” My grip tightens on the phone.
“From who?” This is the shitty part of
“Their grandpa.”
The world narrows to the sound of my own breathing. “He says she didn’t make it home from work. They had to call over a backup caregiver.”
The words don’t make sense at first. “What do you mean didn’t make it home?”
“She never showed up after her shift to relieve the night caregiver.”
That thread in my gut snaps into a wire. “What about the hospital?”
“Called. She ain’t there.” My mouth goes dry. “No one can reach her,” Raff continues. “We’ve been trying since six.”
I look around the gas station like the answer might be painted on the damn pumps.
“She didn’t answer me either,” I share, voice low and dangerous.
Raff exhales hard. “We’re rolling out. Called Country Boy, Stud, Grinder, Dove, everyone is already in motion, brother.”
My head snaps up. “What?”
“Wrath knows. Country Boy too. Rest of the club’s on the way.”
A rush of heat floods my veins. “I’m not too far. Tell Wrath I’m going straight to the Saint’s clubhouse.”
“Then you better twist that throttle.”
Fear doesn’t hit me like a scream. It creeps ever steady. Cold fingers down my spine. Because Danae doesn’t just vanish. She’s predictable in the best way. Responsible. Accountable. The kind of woman who calls if she’s five minutes late.
“Anyone got eyes on Reeves,” I mutter knowing I had Grinder digging into him. Dove was working his contacts too.
Raff goes quiet for half a beat. “The doc?”
“Yeah.”
“He bothering her again?”
“Has been on and off. Nothing consistent.”
The pieces click together in a way I don’t want them to.
“I need Grinder tapping into Reeves’ phone,” I state, already moving toward my bike. “He’s got the information. Dove has the right contacts.”
“Already thought of that,” Raff replies. “I’ll tell him to get on it now.”
Smoke’s watching me from across the pump, cigarette forgotten between his fingers.
“What happened?”
I end the call and meet his eyes. “Danae didn’t make it home.”
He doesn’t ask who Danae is. He’s heard her name enough. “She missing?”
“Yeah.”
Smoke flicks the cigarette away and swings onto his bike without another question. “We riding out or what?” he asks.
I nod once.
“Then quit standing there.” Smoke’s entire demeanor is serious now.
I shove the phone into my pocket and mount up. This time when I start the engine, it’s not about freedom.
It’s about fury.
We pull out of that gas station like hell’s chasing us. I don’t pace myself. I don’t think about fuel efficiency. I don’t think about speed traps.
I think about her walking to her car after work. I think about two flat tires recently. I think about Dr. Reeves offering her rides. I think about her saying she was uncomfortable.
Fear crawls up my throat and turns into something darker.
Rage.
The highway blurs.
Wind whips so hard it feels like it’s trying to tear my helmet off.
Smoke stays tight on my right side. He doesn’t try to slow me. He doesn’t try to talk or signal to calm down.
He just rides.
My phone buzzes once in my pocket at eighty-five miles an hour. I don’t stop.
Another buzz.
I grit my teeth and keep twisting the throttle.
Every mile feels like an insult. Every state line then county line like it’s mocking me for being this far away.
I replay every conversation I’ve had with her the past month.
Every detail. Every hint.
Did she sound scared? Did she mention something I brushed off? Did I miss it?
The what-ifs are worse than the silence. Because silence means I don’t know. And not knowing is its own kind of torture.
When we stop again for fuel, I yank the helmet off before the engine even dies.
Phone out.
Four missed calls.
Raff again.
And one from Grinder.
I call Raff first.
“Talk to me,” I bark.
“We’re boarding the plane, Wrath has vans waiting at the airport. We’ll be to Bella Vista soon enough,” he states. “Grinder’s working Reeves’ phone. It’s powered off.”
Of course it is.
“Last ping?”
“Hospital parking lot. Around midnight.”
Midnight.
Danae gets off around seven. Reeves usually works the seven p.m. to seven a.m. shift as well. Why would he cut off at midnight?
The world tilts.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Raff adds quickly. “But it’s something.”
It’s too much of something.
“Police?” I ask.
“Grandpa filed a report.”
Good. But I don’t trust police to move fast enough. Normally I wouldn’t want cops involved at all. The Hellions have more resources and as an outlaw breaking laws to suit my purpose doesn’t bother me like the boys in blue. Right now, though, Danae in the wind, I want every available body out there looking for her.
“This isn’t just missing, Raff,” I share quietly. “This ain’t her.”
“I know.”
That’s the worst part. He knows. Josie knows. Danae isn’t some random broad, she’s fucking family.
“I’m close,” I tell him. “Keep Grinder on Reeves. I want everything.”
“Already done.”
I hang up and call Grinder.
He answers with keys clacking in the background.