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Jackhammer looked at Monster. “You tracked her SUV?”

“Damn right I did. I’m looking out for my club,” he said.

“Good,” Ghost breathed.

Monster looked surprised. “You're not pissed?”

“Ask me when we have her back,” he said.

Mouse continued. “I've been checking traffic cameras.”

“And?” Ghost demanded.

“Black pickup left the road behind the clubhouse nine minutes after the power went out,” Mouse said.

Jackhammer leaned over the map. “What direction did it go?”

“North,” Mouse said.

“Raven's Hollow is east,” Monster said.

“For the first twelve miles,” Mouse replied. “Then the truck cut east.”

Ghost pointed at the map. “Did they take the highway?”

“No. They took back county roads,” Mouse said.

“They're avoiding cameras,” Ghost said.

“Looks like it,” Mouse agreed.

Jackhammer's jaw clenched. “Can you track the truck?”

“Trying to,” Mouse said.

“Try faster,” Hammer ordered.

“Fuck you, Hammer,” Mouse growled.

“Later,” Hammer mumbled. “Right now, I need you to find our woman.”

Mouse muttered something under his breath, and then his keyboard clicked through the phone. “I've got another camera.” Everyone waited for him to continue. “Same truck.”

“Where is it?” Ghost asked.

“Route fourteen,” Mouse said.

Monster traced it with his finger. “That's heading straight toward Raven's Hollow.”

Ghost pushed away from the table. “We ride.”

“No bikes,” Monster said.

Ghost glared at him. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because they'll hear you coming five miles away,” Monster said.

“He's right,” Jackhammer agreed. Ghost looked at him. Jackhammer hated saying it because every instinct told him to get on his bike and ride until he found Angel, but Monster was right. This wasn't about what felt right; it was about getting her back—alive.