Chapter 1 Rachel
“No. No. NO!” I yelled, slamming the side of my fist into the steering wheel.
I was never going to make it. No matter how hard I pushed my Ford Fusion, she wasn’t going to get me where I needed to be in time. Old Blue had over a hundred and ninety thousand miles on her, and she didn’t have the same pep in her step as she once did. Now, with my foot pressed all the way down on the gas, she still sputtered and vroomed to get up to the speed that I needed.
I just hoped I didn’t run into any cops because I couldn’t slow down or stop. Not for the law, the threat of arrest, or even the chance of death. There wasn’t any other choice.
My daughter’s life trumped every need for caution.
I glanced at the dashboard and the clock, noting that I had thirty minutes to reach Las Vegas and the hotel where I promised to show up with my life’s savings. Twenty thousand dollars, every dime I owned, even after cashing out my 401(k). The penalty stung, but it was nothing compared to the alternative. Leaving my daughter with monsters would never happen. I’d die before I let them keep her.
My fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter.Please let her be safe, I begged to whatever entity would listen.
Beside me, the bills I planned to use as a payoff were shoved into an unassuming black backpack. It wasn’t even that much volume inside, considering the contents consisted of one-hundred-dollar bills. The stacks were tucked deep inside with a sweatshirt and a Ziplock bag full of snacks stuffed on top. Anyone trying to peer inside wouldn’t see the hidden treasure at the bottom. They’d never know it was money intended to buy a little girl’s freedom.
My stomach churned, and I fought the sudden nausea that filled my throat with bile. I had to swallow several times, desperate not to let my thoughts sink to a dark, depraved place where grown men took advantage of children. I couldn’t dwell on what could be happening to Rylee. It wouldn’t help her to lose my shit in a tiny car as I swerved on the highway, fighting back the sting of tears.
But crying was my only outlet, and they dripped from my eyes with silent resolve. I swiped at my wet cheeks, dashing the liquid from my skin. Crying wouldn’t solve my problems. Swallowing back the thick lump forming in my throat, I willed my Fusion to go faster.Stay strong, Rachel.
Just a little farther. . .
My chest felt too tight as I struggled to breathe. I wish I wasn’t doing this alone. I should have asked my father for help, but fear kept me from making that call, and I made a desperate mistake. My dad rode with the Graven Bastards MC—a biker with a notorious reputation and a man respected because of his connections. My entire childhood, nearly every memory, he’d been an intimidating, powerful presence. That remained true as I grew into an adult and he tried to control my life.
As a result, we hadn’t spoken in months.
I knew my father’s club was an outlaw MC. They followed their own code and rules. Men who operated outside the law instead of following it. He’d even gone to prison to protect the men he rode with and the patch that held more allegiance than my mother or me. I wasn’t bitter. I knew he loved us, just not as much as his club.
Maybe that was why I hesitated to reach out. The men who took my daughter threatened to kill both of us if I involved my father. They used fear as a tactic to keep me in line.
But it wasn’t fear ofthemthat held me back.
It was fear of my father’s club, the Graven Bastards MC. The rumors that circulated about men who sold their souls to the devil, of the terror left in their wake. No bodies were ever found. No proof of the death they dealt to their enemies. But people talked, speculated, and warned others about crossing the Graven Bastards.
I didn’t want to expose my young daughter to criminal activity and men who killed without mercy, who probably tortured and mutilated their victims. I knew they had illegal businesses and contracts. The Graven Bastards used to run guns through Nevada and help the cartel push drugs into the state. It wasn’t the environment for a little girl.
And now it didn’t matter. All my effort to protect Rylee didn’t mean shit because she’d been taken anyway, kidnapped by ruthless men because of Doyle. My asshole ex not only cheated on me, but he got himself in so much debt that the men he owed money to kidnapped our daughter to pay it off.
They were clever and ruthless. They sent me proof of Doyle’s debts and how he listed his own daughter as collateral. Who the hell gives their child to traffickers as payment?
I had to lower the window, letting cool air rush over my skin, or be forced to pull over so I could empty my stomach. If they’ve touched her. . . I won’t be responsible for the hell I unleash.
For weeks, I’ve been sent photos, messages, and updates about how they’re keeping Rylee pure and safe, but it wouldn’t last. If any of it was even true. They’ve been toying with me, dragging it out.
But why?
It was almost like they’d been waiting, watching, and hoping I’d contact my father despite their warnings. Like they wanted me to involve the Graven Bastards. Was the real vendetta against my father’s club and not Doyle? The thought crossed my mind more than once.
I can’t do this on my own.
As soon as the thought entered my head, I knew I had to call Hannibal. If not for me, then for Rylee. Screw all the shit in the past, I was too desperate now to care what skeletons I exposed in either of our closets.
With trembling fingers, I dialed my father’s number. Since I kept my phone in a holder attached to the dashboard, I didn’t have to hold my cell as I talked. I pressed the speaker button.
It rang only two times before I heard his deep, raspy voice. “Rachel.”
“Daddy,” I blubbered, too overcome with emotion to say anything else.
Immediate concern filled his tone as he answered. “Baby girl, you gotta tell me what’s wrong. I tried to call. You changed your number.”
