Page 1 of Obey

CHAPTER 1

KNIGHT

I STALKED TOWARD THE wall, drew back my fist, and hit it, not caring how much it fucking hurt.

Nothing could hurt as badly as what was going on right now. Bleeding knuckles were nothing compared to how sideways everything had gone since I woke up this morning.

“Are you actually telling me you don’t know where she is?” I snapped, holding my hand up and staring at the blood oozing out of the cuts I’d just caused. “You have at least ten sources inside the sheriff’s office, Numbers. And none of them are telling you anything?”

It sounded like a polite question. Or rather... It sounded like a calm question. Sounded like something I was just asking with plenty of time for the answer.

The truth was, it was nothing like that.

Last night, I went to bed knowing that things had to change and that the change had to start with me. My friends and Banshees were largely in prison, courtesy of the cops rushing us when we were in the middle of trying to deal with Devil. My lieutenant was in the hospital and his girl was in lock-up. My mentor was dead.

And I’d known that I had only one choice: Go to war. Gather the clubs in the area I knew I could count on and manipulate the ones that I wasn’t so sure of. Make sure everyone knew exactly what Devil had been doing—trying to kill his old lady with his fists—and what he’d done since—attacking me without warning and killing members of my gang. I wanted every MC in the state to know what sort of man he was, because once they knew that, they’d have no choice but to shut him down.

I’d been sure of it, and I’d gone to sleep knowing that meeting with the clubs I thought I could count on was the logical first step toward a solution.

Then I woke up to a bed suspiciously empty of Saraya and went out into the house to find her missing in action. The guards who’d seen her leave—and had tried to hide it—eventually admitted to me that she’d gone.

She’d taken the bike I’d given her, and it had taken me only one guess to figure out where she went.

To turn herself over to Devil. Try to end the war on her own.

I hadn’t been willing to sign off on that, though, and I’d gone after her—which hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone. The problem was, I’d been too late. I arrived just in time to see her, bruised, broken, and bleeding, being shoved into the back of a car by Devil and his henchman.

Shoved into the back of a cop car.

I’d come racing back to the house where I was staying, dragging Remi with me and leaving Brock where he’d fallen, and had immediately called Frank “Numbers” Rogers to me. He wasn’t one of our prime members. More like an accountant on steroids who could massage any books that needed massaging. He wasn’t the man I’d generally call when I was in a fix that involved guns or violence.

But he’d been a cop, once, and he still had friends inside the force. When I needed information about which cop had stolen my girl and raced off with her, he was the one I thought of first.

I’d been really, really hoping he had better news for me than he did.

“No one’s saying anything, Knight,” he repeated. “Either they don’t know or they’ve been told not to tell. I can’t tell who’s telling me the truth and who’s lying, but I’ll tell you this much: The entire department has been paid off. Someone paid them to keep their mouths shut. No one’s even guessing.”

I hit the wall again. And then again. And then one more time, just for good measure. Then I spun toward him, my knuckles screaming in pain.

“And you can’t get any of them to budge?”

He snorted a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You don’t think I tried? I know how important she is to you. I did everything I could, Knight. No one is talking.”

Right. No one was talking, which meant no one was telling us who had Saraya, or where Devil might have gone, or what he might be planning. I wasn’t surprised, really. I’d already suspected Devil had bought the cops.

I was just hoping Frank’s contacts would have blurred the lines a little bit and given him something. More fool I, I guessed.

Devil must have given them even more money than I’d made available for Frank.

Shit.

Luckily, asking the cops where Saraya was and what Devil was doing hadn’t been my only plan. I’d told Saraya once that I always had a Plan B, and Plan C, and this was no different. Sure, Plan A—Ask the Cops—had been the simplest version.

That didn’t mean it was the only version.

“So it’s war, then,” I muttered, my gaze clashing with Frank’s.

He pressed his lips together, thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Don’t see that you have much choice.”