Page 22 of Charging Dodge

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. “Good. Keep them there. And Carter?”

He stops with his hand on the screen door handle, looking back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Leave the guard duty to the guys who've been doing it for years. You're not supposed to be out here handling this.”

He doesn't respond, just slips inside with a huff. I stand in the grass for a second, the quiet of the country breeze wrapping around me. I look at the pistol in my hand, feeling the cold steel—it feels wrong in my palm. I walk to the porch and head inside, hoping I can keep the fear from taking root in any of us.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Dodge

My phone pinging woke me up like a jolt of lighting. I’m not sure how long I’ve been knocked out for, but it couldn’t have been long with the way my eyes are matted and gritty, as if sandpaper has been rubbing them raw. As I look at my screen, I have to rub the blur away in order to see who it is calling. When I see Rebel’s name flashing on it, I quickly press the connect button, and answer. “Talk to me, Rebel,” I growl, my voice raspy. “What did you get out of that stalking son of a bitch?”

“He’s singing, Pres,” Rebel says, his voice tighter than I’ve ever heard it. “We didn't even have to work him over too hard.”

“Spit it out.” I sit up, the leather of the recliner creaking under my weight as I press the footrest down.

“He’s a contract rat, plain and simple,” Rebel explains. “He tracked Adalynn and the kids from their last stop when they met up with you. He’s been watching their routine, waiting for a mistake to be made, waiting on them to be left alone so he could make a move. He spotted them pulling in here, followed their tracks to the property line, and just sat in the brush waiting for a hole in our defenses.”

My gut drops, cold and heavy. “Who hired him?”

“He’s not talking about any names yet, just the target,” Rebel grunts, and I hear the frustration in his breathing. “He’s after Adalynn and the little ones. They’re the payday, Dodge. He was sent here to snatch them and drag them back to whoever is paying the tab.”

Anger surges through me, hot and blinding. I stare at the wall, feeling the blood pounding in my temples. “Keep him there. I’m on my way.”

“Dodge?” Carter calls my name and I turn my head to see him standing there in the mouth of the hallway. “That man your guys found, he was here for us, wasn’t he?”

Fuck. I hate being caught red-handed, I don’t want to lie to him, I vowed I wouldn’t because this is his life we’re talking about, but he’s also too damn young to have these thoughts and fears in his head.

Clearing my throat, I look him dead in the eyes and admit, “Yeah, kid. He was.”

Carter’s head hangs for a minute before it snaps back up and I see anger, not fear, lingering in his eyes. “Are you going to get answers out of him?” he queries, his voice trembling with a fierce intensity. “Are you going to find out why they’re after us and what they think we have or know so you can tell them we aren’t aware of anything outside of the fact that our parents were murdered? If they know that, maybe they’ll leave us the hell alone?”

Realizing it is time to give him the brutal truth, I lay it out for him straight. “Even if they believe you don't know a damn thing and have no evidence against them, they aren't going to stop hunting you, Carter. Men like that cover their tracks and leave absolutely nothing to chance. We're going to have to identify the boss behind this and take him down.”

Carter stares at me, his knuckles white where he grips his shirt. The reality of what I said hits him hard. He swallows, his throat working visibly as he tries to process the weight of the situation. “Okay,” he whispers, his voice cracking just a bit. “Just don't let anything happen to my family.”

“I won't,” I promise, my tone leaving no room for doubt. “But you need to stay inside. Don't go wandering, and keep the others close. You hear me?”

He nods, his resolve hardening as he accepts the order. I leave him standing there and stride out to the porch where Hulk is watching the perimeter. I catch his eye and give a quick, sharp signal.

“Hulk,” I call out, and he turns to face me. “I’m heading out to the warehouse to finish this. You're in charge of the grounds. Stay put, keep your eyes on the house, and don't let anyone get near those kids.”

Hulk squares his shoulders and nods once. “Understood, Pres. They're locked down tight.”

As I step off the porch, I glance toward the house. Adalynn is standing just inside the glass, watching me. Her face is pale, and I can see the fear etched into her features. I don't break my stride, but I lock eyes with her for a heartbeat and give her a slow, deliberate nod. I want her to know that I’ve got this handled. I see her posture soften just a fraction as she understands the message.

I don't waste another second. I walk to my bike and kick it to life, the roar of the engine vibrating through my boots. I shove it into gear and tear down the drive, the gravel spraying out behind me. I’m done with the waiting. It’s time to see what that rat knows and put an end to this threat for good.

Killing the engine, I let the roaring sound die down until silence completely swallows it. The warehouse comes into view ahead, resembling a bleak scar on the landscape inside a shell of splintered wood and rusted metal. I dismount the bike and walk toward the main entrance. Inside, the air feels stale and heavy, carrying the scent of old dust and oil. As I make my way toward the center of the bay, my boots crunch loudly against shattered glass.

When I scan the inside of the dilapidated warehouse, I notice the guy strung up by his wrists from a support beam. He’s a pathetic sight, his head hanging low and his breath coming in ragged hitches. Creeper and Speed are waiting near a worktable, looking bored. They straighten up when they see me, but I keep my focus on the man swinging in the dim light.

I don't bother saying a word to him yet. Instead, I turn to Rebel, who is leaning against a workbench with his arms crossed. “Talk to me,” I command, my voice echoing in the hollow space. “Give me the rundown on what this piece of trash has said so far.”

Rebel pushes off the bench and walks over, his expression unreadable. “He’s been singing since we hauled him in. He knows he’s finished, so he’s trying to buy time.”

“I don't care about his life,” I growl. “I want to know why he’s after Adalynn.”