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Mack tackled me the same moment Rafe turned to Striker and nodded, disappearing into the house. In a panic I fought my father, hitting him in the jaw with a strong left hook, and flinging him off, prepared to stop Rafe from going after Rae.
“I wouldn’t move boy,” Striker sneered. “You interfere in any way right now, and I’ll not only shoot both you and Bryce, but I’ll also take Rae out too.”
Fuck!
My chest heaving, spots dancing in my peripheral from lack of oxygen, I tried to plead with him. No longer caring if I looked weak, all I thought about was protecting Rae from this motherfucker and preventing her from joining us. “Why don’t we just go? Rae doesn’t have to be involved.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. This concerns her too.”
Rafe exited the clubhouse with Rae, one hand wrapped around her upper arm as her eyes sought me out immediately, “Pete!”
“It’s ok baby,” I assured her, willing Rae to stay calm. “We’ll get through this.”
Her eyes darted around in confusion. I sensed her panic and fear. Shaking my head at her I hoped she would try to stay calm.
So many MC members on both sides remained quiet, waiting for their next move to be ordered from their Pres. Rafe held onto Rae and led her away from me, barking out commands at my brothers.
No one was to follow us.
“On your bike Edge. You too Mack.”
I met R.J.’s angry gaze and Jake’s fierce expression. They would follow at a safe distance. I didn’t doubt it. Ghost, Valan, and GQ looked ready to spring into action but I ticked my head toward Rae, and they immediately knew what I meant. I wouldn’t risk her life in any way. They had to proceed with caution.
R.J. clenched his fists at his side but nodded as I stood, stomping away from Mack. My brothers were holding back their emotions for me, but I could still feel their anger. I frowned in their direction and ticked my head toward Striker.
No hasty decisions or movement.
He wouldn’t hesitate to kill Rae.
Striker indicated a few of the Outlaws to grab Bryce. He winced as they pulled him up and threw him in the back of a black van, none too gently. His grunt broke my heart, but it was Rae shoved in next that made me see red. The doors were locked as Striker and three of his guys climbed in.
“Don’t Pete. She’s safe enough for now. Just get your ass on your bike.”
Mack’s words didn’t mean anything to me. In fact, I was pissed, “She gets a scratch, and I take it out on you.”
He simply nodded in agreement, “Let’s go.”
SHIT. This was bad. Really bad.
Either these guys were stupid, they underestimated me, or it didn’t occur to them that I should be searched and my phone confiscated. I listened to their conversation up front, a metal grating providing little barrier to their words as Bryce and I were tossed around in the back. He moaned and tried to brace himself against the side with his feet to keep from barreling into the hard metal rear doors. We were headed to some warehouse out at the junkyard. Dick’s Scrapyard.
Why did those places always have stupid names?
I’d been in this van before, so I knew there was no way out until we stopped.
My fingers shook with my frazzled nerves as I swiped my finger across my contacts on my cell. I hurried to make sure it was on vibrate only and let out a ragged breath. Who did I ask for help?
I immediately thought of Sims. The detective had placed his info on my phone, directly into my I.C.E. list. Well, I’d say this qualified as an emergency.
I tried to call him first, hoping he could trace the call and find our location. He didn’t answer but went straight to voicemail. Three times.
How was this possible? Det. Sims always answered my calls quickly.
I texted him, waited a couple of minutes and texted again. Still nothing.
What kind of detective was that man? He was always so attentive and protective, someone I could count on. What was happening?
I didn’t know who else to turn to after all this time. The only person that made sense was Beckett. He was the sheriff of Providences’ son. Surely by now he was also an officer.
