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Ty frowned at the mention of Lock’s ol’ lady. He liked Brenna, liked her a lot, but hadn’t spent much one-on-one time with her in the two months since they’d rescued her from a human trafficking nightmare.
Being around Brenna made Tyler think of her, and he did just about anything to keep away thoughts of the woman who’d been held captive with Brenna. The way-too-young woman who’d suffered unimaginable horrors and wormed her way under his skin in a way no one had in many years. Maybe ever. She’d awoken a protective streak and near-obsessive hunger he’d been fighting since she disappeared from the hospital two days after being rescued.
Absolute insanity.
The woman was young, wounded, and terrified to be anywhere near a Y chromosome.
Except for me.
She’d allowed him to carry her out of hell and hold her until they arrived at his clubhouse, where she’d begged and pleaded with him to stay by her side.
And he did until they drove her to the hospital, and the team of doctors kicked his ass out of the room. After that, the ol’ ladies took on the job of watching over her. The plan was for her to stay at the shelter on the club’s property, but she’d vanished, signing herself out against medical advice.
No one had been able to find her since, and they’d looked.
If it weren’t for the hours he’d spent by her bedside, watching her twitch and mumble in her sleep, he’d have wondered if it were all a dream.
But no, she’d been real and fucking with his head ever since he met her.
“What’s up? Bren, okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. Um…” Lock ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it. Pulse called her a few hours ago. Kelsie is in the hospital. Here, in Tampa.”
Ty’s jaw dropped, but no words came out. He froze, unable to even blink. “What?” he finally managed to whisper.
“That’s all I know, brother. I dropped Brenna off at the hospital and then came straight here.”
He swallowed. It felt like razor blades were slicing his throat from the inside out. Every beat of his heart pummeled his chest as though trying to break free. He worked to school his features. “Is she…”
“All I know is what Pulse said. It was a quick phone call. His ass would be toast if anyone found out he’d passed on patient information. She’s, uh, it’s not good. It seems as though she’s been crashing in this rundown apartment in a really shitty area of Tampa. She’s in bad shape, man.”
There was something Lock wasn’t saying, but Ty didn’t stick around to grill him. He leaped to his feet. “Can you—”
“Go,” Lock said as though reading his mind. “I’ll call Jinx to come in and watch the shop until he gets here.”
“Thank you.” Fuck, it was good to have the brotherhood of his club. Many years ago, the day after he turned twenty-one, he’d prospected with the True Outlaws MC. Side by side with his cousin Travis, aka Curly, they’d vowed to earn their patches and be the biggest, baddest bikers around.
Instead, they’d been fucking fools, and after three months of selling drugs and running guns, Ty bowed out. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. He’d been searching for a connection, for a family to replace the shit one he’d been born into. But the True Outlaws weren’t a family. They were a dysfunctional gang of shitheads who lived like animals and respected nothing but their motorcycles. Curly stuck it out, patched in, and lived to pay a very steep price—thirteen years in prison for the one crime that idiot hadn’t committed.
Now that his cousin was free and running his own MC, Ty finally got what he’d been searching for all those years ago. The Handlers’ brotherhood was unmatched.
“Thanks, Lock,” he said as he grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys. “Text if you have any questions.”
Lock waved him out the door. “I got this. Don’t worry. Maybe I’ll even outsell you.”
Any other time, Ty would fire back with a snarky quip, but the words died in his throat. The driving need to get to the hospital overrode his common sense and ability to communicate.
“Go!” Lock said, sensing his unease.
With a final nod, Ty ran out the door and toward his bike.
For the entire forty-minute ride to the hospital, he ran a montage of disastrous scenarios through his head. How had Kelsie ended up back in the hospital? Was it a medical emergency? Appendicitis or a heart problem? Had she been in a car accident or suffered a fall? Had someone hurt her?
Again.
God, the young woman had suffered things at the hands of sick men no woman should ever experience. Most of the men involved in the trafficking ring were killed or arrested the night the Handlers rescued Brenna and Kelsie.
Most, but not all. Ty knew some were still out there, and if he ever came across them, they’d breathe their last breaths in his presence.
