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I glanced away, rubbing the back of my neck. I wished Pete had been angry. I wished he had stepped out of his truck and come out swinging. Then it would have made things a little easier to handle instead of all this damned waiting around.
Brewer stepped up to the door of the clubhouse and whistled sharply. I turned to look at him.
“Bear’s finished. Get your ass in here.”
I headed inside with Pete close on my heels. Just as Bear emerged from the back room, I caught a glimpse of a scrawny, pale-faced boy with wide eyes and a buzzed head, sulking in a chair.
“Turns out Pete’s neighborhood used to be a trailer park,” Bear said. “Construction company leveled the place to build the suburb for a hefty amount of cash. Everyone in the trailer park lost their homes which caused an uproar. Folks in the trailer park packed up and moved outside of Merry Field. The kid claims some guy is behind it all, a real loudmouth. Said he was recruiting with the promise of a little pocket money and the adrenaline rush of fucking up rich people’s homes. Dani is being held at his place for ransom.”
“Got an address?” I asked.
Bear held up a scrap of paper and gave it a wave. “Right here.”
“I’ll call in the rest of the club,” Brewer said. “Let’s move.”
My bike was too messed up to ride it again without extensive work. It might even be totaled. But the club had a van that we used for transport.
I glanced at Brewer. He knew I wouldn’t stay behind. If he gave the order to leave me here at the clubhouse, I would disobey in a heartbeat.
Brewer fished the van keys from his pocket and tossed them to me.
“Just try to keep your head on straight, will you?” he said. “And don’t let your downstairs brain do all the thinking when we’re in the middle of this shitstorm.”
Then I turned to Pete. The club’s beat-up van didn’t come close to a motorcycle but it was better than nothing.
“Ready to ride with me one more time?” I asked.
Pete nodded. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
Chapter Eight
Dani
Everything had happened so fast but it was all finally catching up to me. Nearly crashing into the truck at the intersection. The head-on collision with the telephone pole. Rough hands pulling me from the car and yanking a sour-smelling hood over my head. Movement, jostling.
Now, it was quiet. Too quiet. I could hear someone else in the room with me, breathing somewhere faraway. Sometimes, they shifted, the tattletale rustle of their clothing giving them away.
What had happened to Hannah? Had she been taken too? And what about Crow? I’d seen the remnants of his motorcycle - nothing but a twisted pile of metal in the middle of the intersection. Shards of glass had glittered like stars on the pavement.
There was no way Crow could have survived that, let alone come after me to get me the hell out of here.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling. “What do you want?”
No response.
When I tried to move, I could feel something thin biting into my wrists. It wasn’t cold like the metal of handcuffs and it certainly wasn’t rough like rope. A zip-tie, maybe? Around my ankles, I felt the same material. Judging by my seated position, I was strapped to a chair.
A thousand horrific scenarios flew through my mind. My stomach roiled at all of them and I swallowed, fighting not to be sick. I tasted the salt of tears on my lips. Had I been crying? When? Probably during this whole scenario…
“Stop wiggling. You won’t get out of it.”
I froze at the sound of the voice, just off to my right. It was almost…vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“My wrists hurt,” I said.
“Deal with it,” the voice shot back. “The only time those zip-ties are coming off is when you’re dead.”
I flinched at the threat and bit the inside of my cheek. My chest felt tight and I fought to get a deep breath into my lungs.
