“The works—rape, naked, bound.”

  Fuck.

  “Who?”

  “Jade, Loretta, Niki—”

  “Goddammit,” I cut in.

  “Beth, some other club whore I don’t remember, and…” he trails off.

  “And who?”

  Don’t you say it. Don’t you fuckin’ say it.

  “You gotta promise you won’t—”

  “And who, Big?” I growl. “They already got Niki and Beth. Tell. Me. Who.”

  “Kit.”

  “No.” My stomach bottoms out.

  “Yes.”

  “No!” My heart seizes.

  “Listen, you can’t do what you wanna do. We gotta go a—”

  Chucking my phone to the ground, I rip off my cut and throw it on the bush. Blood rushes through my ears. Sweat beads on my brow. Every muscle contracts at once.

  They took Kit!

  Her.

  The one.

  My one.

  The mother of my son.

  They…

  Roaring to the inky sky, I punch the air and lose every ounce of control I have left.

  It burns to ash at my feet.

  The edge of my vision turns hazy.

  The world goes black.

  Rage prevails—its wicked tentacles an old friend.

  Fists meet flesh.

  Pennies coat my tongue.

  I don’t stop.

  I can’t.

  “Christ! Put him the fuck down, Bonez,” is the last thing I register before free-falling into the comfort of her bosom, purple hair tickling my face.

  Kit.

  There you are.

  How I’ve missed you.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  KIT

  Knees pulled to my chest, back against the cool, brick wall, I listen to another woman beg for mercy… Something she won’t get. None of us do. They’re taking turns. Every few hours, somebody’s pulled from the closet, kicking and screaming, then violated outside our room. The sounds will haunt my dreams for years to come.

  I bite my bottom lip and squeeze my eyes shut as she wails in pain for the hundredth time.

  “Just stop. Just stop. Just stop,” an older woman named Loretta sobs under her breath as she rocks beside me.

  Beyond helpless, I reach out and pat her shoulder.

  We are in this together. All of us. Neither she nor I have been used yet. Perhaps they’re saving us for last.

  “Ohhh, Jade, I’m so sorry.” Loretta quakes in misery. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.”

  No, it shouldn’t have. None of this is okay. None of us should be here.

  There are six of us—Loretta, Beth, Niki, Jade, Julia, and me.

  Our common denominator? The Sacred Sinners.

  Loretta, from what I’ve been told, is White Boy’s mother and Blimp’s old lady.

  Jade is Loretta’s younger best friend and White Boy’s friend too. I guess they’re neighbors. She also works as an artist at a member’s old ladies’ tattoo shop. I think they said Pixie, but I’m not positive.

  Niki and Julia are self-proclaimed club whores.

  Were.

  Dammit, Mel, get it together.

  Against the farthest wall, Julia’s body lies still. They brought her back to us after they strangled her to death.

  It all happened so fast.

  I still can’t believe she’s gone.

  One minute, they ripped her from the room, kicking and screaming, the next, she went silent.

  Gone.

  Just like that.

  Poof.

  I shake my head to clear such thoughts as a shiver rolls down my spine.

  Then there’s Beth, who’s related to a retired Sacred Sinner named Jonesy, has a messy past with a biker named Runner, and thinks the world of Gunz.

  What can I say? You learn a lot when you’re locked in the dark with five women for eternity, hoping this’ll soon end. That, or I wake up from whatever fucked-up nightmare I’m having, and this will all have been nothing more than a sick-and-twisted dream.

  I pinch the side of my knee and… yep… still here.

  “Nooo!” Jade screeches.

  A man moans.

  I cringe.

  Another tear sneaks free as I continue to pat Loretta.

  It’s almost done. She’ll be back with us soon.

  Then they’ll come again… and again… until… I don’t know when.

  Resting my forehead on my knees, I think of my guys… Adam and Gunz.

  When it’s my turn, their memories will give me strength.

  I will survive this.

  I will.

  I can’t let these criminals win… no matter the price.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  GUNZ

  Pulling my gun from its holster, I don’t bother with niceties like patience. I’m done. It’s been eleven days since we got word our family was taken—that Kit was taken. Since then, my world has plummeted from unsteady to downright crumbling beneath the sole of these old leather shitkickers.

  Aiming true at dull brass, I blow a knob clean off, before kicking the ancient door wide open. It smashes against the wall—the violent echo reminiscent of what’s to come.

  A darkened foyer greets me.

  If they’re not here, I’m killing Bongo myself—low and slow, with fists and no fucks. He’s been running the show from his trailer in Texas. He’s supposed to be helping us but hasn’t done the job the way I would. His failures steal precious minutes. We don’t even know if the women are alive.

  Seven places we have raided.

  Seven.

  Yes, you heard that correctly.

  Fucking seven.

  One lead takes us to another and another. All dead ends. Now here we are at another shitty house. It’s quiet inside. Quieter than the last six.

  It smells of mildew and old age as I step across the threshold, ready to shoot any bastard between the eyes.

  “Gunz!” someone hollers, wanting me to wait for backup. Fat chance. I’m done waiting. Sure, we’ve freed other women, men, and children along the way. I’ve stained my hands in more blood than I care to discuss. It doesn’t matter much now, does it? Nothing will until I get them to safety. I can’t eat. I sure as fuck can’t sleep. The bruises from my hazy night outside the farmhouse have faded. The brothers haven’t said much about it. And… thanks to Kit, I can’t even enjoy tea anymore without thinkin’ of her. And thinkin’ of her makes me rage.

  This should’ve never happened!

  Hot on my tail, White Boy, not faring much better than me, joins the crusade. The faster we clear this place, the quicker we get to the next on Bongo’s endless list of bullshit.

  Eyes sharp, I flick on light switch after light switch, not giving a fuck about their electric bill as I scour the place for signs of life. White Boy inspects the rooms I don’t as our brothers stand watch outside.

  Fresh clothes lie in a pile on an unmade bed upstairs. Fancy men’s toiletries are lined up neatly on the attached bathroom vanity.

  In the furthest room on the second floor, I find the corpse of a young, naked male, lying in the fetal position beside nothing more than dust bunnies. From the looks of it, he’s been gone a while. I’ll spare you the gory details.

  Holding my breath, I back out of the room, and close the door. There’s nothing I can do for him now. The stench of death has become a companion as of late. I barely notice it anymore.

  The scrape of bootheels on hardwood greet me as I jog down the winding staircase to join White Boy and Kade in the parlor. Our resident sick fuck from Texas twirls a Bowie knife like it’s nothing as he sifts through a stack of newspapers on the coffee table.

  He points to a date with the tip of his blade. “Looks like someone was here yesterday.”

  Not surprising. They probably caught wind of us in the area and bailed, taking their merchandise with ‘em.

  “There’s a dead teen upstairs,” I explain.

  “Been there long?” comes from Kade.

  “Looks like it.”

  “Kinda quiet here,” White Boy throws out from somewhere in the house.

  He’s right. It’s too still.

  “Anyone check the outbuildings yet?” I rock back on my heels, ready to get this over with.

  Runner steps into the parlor to join us. “The grounds are clear.”

  Super! Fantastic! Another motherfucking dead-end.

  “Basement?” My upper lip curls in unspent wrath.

  Somewhere a door squeaks, and White Boy hollers, “Last on the list!”

  Stowing my gun, I scrub both hands down my face and curse and curse and goddamn curse until my anger ebbs long enough to join White Boy in a well-kept kitchen. He holds open a scarred door and flicks on a light switch. Sweeping his hand and bowing with flourish, he bestows me the ridiculous honor of checking out the bowels of this house.

  It reeks of rot and piss, as I descend the creaky stairs with him on my tail. There’s nothing to see beyond cracked walls, mold, and a small, stained cot in the corner. No signs of life. We turn a corner, and I push a ramshackle table out of the way. The drip, drip, drip of leaky pipes leaves a small puddle on the ground beside a closed door. I press my ear to the rusted steel and hear nada before testing the knob. It’s locked.

  White Boy juts his chin at the handle and aims a gun at the door. “You check. I’m ready,” he whispers as if a werewolf’s gonna break out and maim us. This man has lost his marbles.

  Past the point of exhaustion, I sigh, and gesture for him to lower the weapon. It’s pointless. What’s he gonna shoot? A rat? Not likely. I’ll end up with a bullet in my foot before any varmint gets offed. My brother needs sleep. He needs peace. Hell, we all do.

  White Boy heeds my instructions but stays on alert as I knock the locked handle with the butt of my gun, once, twice, three times… before the thing gives way and falls on the ground in a chorus of too much damn noise.

  Opening the door, I step straight into a goddamn horror scene.

  Dried blood and a putrid stench, I couldn’t explain if I tried to, rapes my senses. I gag and blink, then gag more. A thing shifts in a darkened corner—a person. There’s a fuckin’ person in here! What the hell is this place?

  I pull out my cell and use its light to see better. A mop of reddish hair, and scarred, pale skin, is attached to a set of suspicious eyes as they glare at me from the dirty floor. White Boy gasps when he sees what I do. It’s a kid. A boy. Yet not quite a boy. A young man. A buck-ass naked one.

  “Hey.” I lift a palm to show we come in peace. Beside me, my blond brother does the same as he slowly stows his weapon.

  The kid says nothing. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t do jack. Only his glare intensifies. Jaw setting tight, his entire body primes for a fight. By the looks of him, it wouldn’t be his first.

  “You wanna get outta this shithole?” Light lingering on him, I take a step back to give the kid space to breathe. If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either, but I’d sure as fuck want outta this room. I’d want a decent meal and a hot shower. Then I’d wanna kill whoever left those whip marks all over my body. Remy and his crew are a magical bunch of pedos. This ain’t the first time I’ve seen this kinda skin décor. Not even the first time I saw it this week. Lots of scars and brandings are left on his treasures. Mostly on the males we save. Now what does that tell you about the piece of shit? I haven’t quite decided yet, but I’ll leave you to mull it over as I get our only find of the day out of this disgusting place and into some clean clothes.

  Leaning against the doorjamb, I pop a mystery Dum Dum into my maw and wait for the kid to chill out. The last thing I wanna do is fight the guy. We don’t need that. “Me and my brothers are here to find our women who were kidnapped by the same asshole who did this to you.”

  When the redhead doesn’t respond, much less move to leave, I keep talkin’. “We’ve freed a bunch of you lately, from bigger places than this.” I gesture to his chamber. “We’ve got a safe place to help ya get back on your feet... You got a name?”

  The kid relaxes against the wall but doesn’t speak.

  Thumbing toward the exit, I push off the frame. “I’m gonna head upstairs. You join us whenever you’re ready. Ain’t nobody here gonna mess with you.” With a parting nod and a tight smile, I leave the young man to decide what he wants. I’m not in the business of freeing people who don’t want it.

  Hauling my tired ass up the stairs, I join my brothers in the parlor. To give the kid time, we shoot the shit and plan our next course of action. It doesn’t take long for the scarred redhead to join us.

  One more down…

  All our women to go.

  Fuck this shit.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  KIT

  Soft fur sifts through my fingers. Chibs’ perky ears twitch as I give him the best rubdown of his life. On the grass beside us, Gunz and Adam laugh together. It’s a deep and beautiful sort of sound. I’m home with my guys. A real home. Not like before. Not like the shell I was. It’s new… one of comfort and peace. One of…

  I wince.

  “That’s it,” a man moans, bursting through my internal defenses.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhale, then exhale calmly.

  I’ll get through this. I will.

  They will not win. This is my fucking body, my fucking mind, my fucking spirit, not theirs.

  Inside my dreamscape, a strong set of fingers lock with mine, bolstering my determination. “You’re a badass,” Gunz whispers, his beautiful blue eyes holding mine.

  He’s right. I am a badass. I am strong.

  My body remains numb, every muscle pliant to a fault. The table is no longer cold at my back. Their unwelcomed gropes no longer punishment upon flesh.

  “We. Should. Make. Her. Scream.” The words penetrate in time with my rapist’s thrusts.

  A different man laughs his loud, joker-esque approval moments before my nipples are twisted and yanked in brutal glee. Yet, I breathe… and breathe… and breathe… calm and collected. Cool as a cucumber. Right as rain. The present fades like ash in the wind, and I float back into my safe space… where I long to live forever.

  “I love you both.” I lift Gunz’s knuckles to my lips and press a sweet kiss upon the rougher skin. He grins, cheeks pinking in the most handsome of ways.

  “I’ll protect you for always,” he vows.

  “You already are.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  GUNZ

  This damn well better be it.

  It’s been too many days since we rescued the kid in the basement. Each stop, each raid, has begun to blur into an endless blood-filled river of torment, of bodies and nameless faces, of violence and sleepless nights. They are out there somewhere, waiting on us to get our fucking shit together and save them. If that’s even possible at this point. If they’re still alive.

  Fuck!

  Seated on a rickety chair in our hotel room, elbows on my knees, I rub my temples, and suck angrily on a Dum Dum. My eyes are closed and my chest hurts. The bastard won’t stop hurting. Each breath is more painful than the last.

  “You need to eat.” Blimp drops a tied gas station bag at my feet.

  I don’t need food. I need to kill. I need to find them. All of them… whole. Body parts intact. Blood still in their bodies. Breath in their lungs.

  “He can’t,” comes from Kade, sitting on top of a dresser next to an old black-and-white television, playing with knives like a child would toys.

  Loyal to his core, Blimp doesn’t yield. “The fuck he can’t. He hasn’t eaten in two days.”

  Truth, from ‘em both.

  “He’ll just throw it up,” Kade remarks.

  Truth again.

  Ignoring our Texas brother, Blimp nudges the toe of my boot. “Gunz, come on, brother, you gotta power up. If you don’t, you won’t be strong enough for this. The specs on this place are scary, even to me.”

  Kade chuckles darkly, liking the data far more than the rest of our crew.

  Blimp’s right. The warehouse is bigger than we’ve taken on before. Our numbers are solid. Our weapons are on point. The information we’ve amassed is extensive. I made sure of it this time. No more guesses. No more houses and small-time shit. This is it. It has to be.

  Knowing this won’t end without a fight, I heed Blimp and dig into the sack. Your standard fare of sandwich and chips rests on my lap as I remove my empty sucker stick from my mouth before taking a bite. Everything tastes like nothingness. It has for days. Just like Kade said, I’ll puke it up later, when I don’t have a roomful of family eyeing me like I’m two seconds away from ending up in the looney bin.

  Walking into the room, White Boy sprawls out on a bed and tucks both hands behind his head. “When do we leave?” His words are slow, laced with exhaustion.

  The entire room falls silent, awaiting my response to his question. They’ve been doin’ that a lot lately. Somehow, I’ve become their anchor. As much as I get it, I don’t like it. I’m in no place to lead. Not for this. Not in my condition. Not with this rage. Not with… this… ugh. I fuckin’ hate war.

  Not keen on speakin’ at this juncture, I ignore them all and continue to consume Blimp’s offering.

  Joinin’ our party from the stoop outside, Runner props himself against the open-doorframe. “What’d Big say?” He chews on a piece of gum as a breeze from outside ruffles his hair.

  “Tonight,” Blimp answers between long drags from his joint, not giving a damn we’re in a nonsmoking room, in some rinky-dink hotel on the outskirt of whatever this town is. “He thinks it’s best under nightfall. The rest of the brothers Big called are already camped out, ready to rock ’n’ roll whenever we give word.”

  After this is through, when I’ve got my lady and the rest of my family safe and secure, I’m calling in reinforcements to chop Remy up into tiny, little, microscopic pieces. I don’t give a flying dogshit fuck if it takes me years to clean house. He’s done. Finito. You can run your dirty operation under the radar. You can be a world-class sicko. Hell, I know my fair share of sickos. One thing you can’t do is lay an unwelcomed finger on any person I care about and expect me, the usually reasonable one, to let it go. This old, baldheaded biker doesn’t roll that way.