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“And you, Lady Lawless, were the best hunt of my life.”

“We have the USB. We have evidence.” My breath hitches, my stomach contracts as every muscle in my body aches to be free. To fight. “They’ll put you away.”

“By the time they find you, I’ll be so far out of the country, it won’t matter,” he says with an amused chuckle. “Men like me always come back. We always start again.”

“What are you going to do?” I tremble against my bindings.

From somewhere behind me comes the soft sound of someone weeping.

Oh shit, who else is here?

Please’s ice-blue eyes harden to stone. “I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re going to beg for your life. And when I’m done, I’m going to kill you and leave your body for your boyfriend to find.”

My heart pounds as a fresh wave of tears fills my eyes. Not Cole. He won’t survive it.

“But first…” Please leans close, his breath hot on my face. “I want to hear what you sound like when you really scream.”

47 Cole

Chaos swarms all around me. Whiskey glasses litter my kitchen table. My brothers pace. Hassie sits in a chair, a blanket around her shoulders. Langford spreads out files and his laptop across the island. We called him an hour ago, forgoing the Tempest Police Department. The last thing they’ll do is help. Instead, we’re working directly with Langford’s FBI contact, Special Agent Liam Byrne.

“Tell us what you have,” Langford says into his cell phone.

The speaker phone crackles with an Irish accent. “Please’s real name is Marcus D’Angelo. He’s a producer in Hollywood. Makes bad action B-movies.”

My fists clench at the information. We know who this motherfucker is.

But all of this information still doesn’t give us Delilah.

Keyboard keys clack as Byrne says, “But now we really know what he’s putting his producing credits toward. Raping and killing women for his sick movies.”

I bury my hands in my hair, keep them there. Nausea churns my stomach. Just hearing the words is enough to break me. Is she hurt? Is she scared and alone? Is she alive?

Every second that passes without seeing Delilah is a second off my life. I can’t handle it. Can’t do anything but pace and rage.

I see her everywhere. She’s in the space all around me. Her mug from this morning, her box of hair dye, the love note scrawled on the whiteboard on the fridge. The sunshine, the warmth that she brought to my ranch house is gone, and the thought of never having it again is more than I can take.

River walks into the room with Syd.

“Anything?” I growl.

“No,” Syd says. “I got my crew stationed on the roads in and out of Tempest. But no one’s seen a limo in the last hour.”

I nod, grateful for Syd. We don’t have many we can count on, but S.O.T. being there tells me everything.

“We’ll help your girl, man.” Syd’s tone is low, sympathetic. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

That’s Delilah. She made everyone around her fall in love with her, including a lawless motorcycle club. Her charm, her sweetness, her light—it’s all anyone can see.

Liam’s voice comes through the speaker. “We have some updates. The people D’Angelo employs are ex-military. Which means it wouldn’t be a stretch for someone to hack the distillery’s email and get access to her calendar.”

Warren refills his glass of whiskey. He hasn’t put the bottle down since he got to the house. Or taken his eyes off Hassie. “So the man Hassie picked up worked for D’Angelo?”

“Yes.” Langford scans his computer screen. “The driver’s name is Whit Wakefield. He impersonated Nolan Kraus to get to Delilah.”

“Is there really a Nolan Kraus?” Ezra wonders with a frown.

“There is. But he hasn’t been seen in over two days,” Liam clips. “We’re looking for him now.”