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I double-check every room of the house before I head over to Micky’s and bolt straight up the stairs to check the apartment, hearing Micky call after me that he’s already checked up here. But I’m not taking any risks. I’ll check her apartment a million times over.
Running back down to the bar, I find Micky standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me. “You haven’t heard from her yet?” he questions, panic lacing his tone, his eyes just as wide as mine.
“No,” I roar in frustration, shaking my head as I try to work out where the hell she could be, and where the hell I’m supposed to go from here.
Micky tells me he’s going to do a drive around the city and leaves me to check the more serious places. I’m halfway to her stepmother’s place when a text comes through on my phone. I pull it out of my pocket and open the text before coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the road, other cars whipping around me, horns blaring as they narrowly avoid rear-ending me.
There’s a picture of Charli on a wet concrete floor in what looks like some kind of basement. She’s bloodied and bruised with her hands and feet bound. Her clothes are torn, and a thick piece of duct tape covers her mouth. But what fucking kills me is the terror in her eyes.
My gaze snaps down to the message below the image.
Unknown - Throw the match or you’ll never see this bitch again.
“Fuck,” I roar.
I should have known.
Pitbull has my fucking woman. How stupid could I have been to assume this was about Charli, that it was her stepmother? But of course, it’s about me. The moment I’m finally in control, someone has to come and fuck it up. But this dickhead is finally going to learn his lesson. No one fucks with what’s mine.
Come for my throat, my home, my career. But my girl is off limits.
The thought crosses my mind that I should do as he says and throw the fight. It’s the easiest way to get Charli back, but the fight is still two days away, and who knows what could happen to her in that time. He’s an unpredictable bastard and probably wouldn’t stand by his word. Fuck, she’s already bloodied and bruised and she’s been gone an hour, maybe two. Who knows what kind of damage he could inflict in two days.
I pull Cole’s truck around and hit the gas, flooring it back to Rebels before bursting through the door. Cole and Jace are already standing, and before they get a word out, I thrust my phone toward them. Cole looks it over with wide eyes before they quickly narrow and become full of rage.
“How the hell am I supposed to find her?” I ask.
I see the answer behind his eyes. “Let’s go,” he says.
We pile into his truck while Jace gets on his phone and gives Luke a call, asking if he can get a friend to track the phone number before telling him to meet us at Mario’s. He calls Caden next and relays the same message, telling him to get a move on.
“Who the fuck is Mario?” I demand, my hands balled in tight fists.
Jace looks toward Cole before finally telling me what I need to know. “He’s the asshole who does the paperwork for the Underground. He’s dodgy as fuck, but he’ll know where I can find Pitbull.”
I nod, knowing this could be my only lead to Charli.
We come to a stop in front of some old restaurant, and find Luke and Caden already waiting. We catch up with them, the five of us storming through the doors. I follow Cole’s lead, and the way they handle themselves suggests that maybe they’re more than used to dealing with shit like this.
We walk straight past the gawking diners and through the kitchen before Cole busts down a door to an office that has some guy sitting behind a desk. I can only assume this is Mario. He doesn’t startle, and I realize it’s because he knew we were coming. The whole side wall of his office is covered in monitors and surveillance equipment, making me wonder just how dodgy this motherfucker is.
He stands from his expensive chair, placing his hands on his desk and fixing us with an intimidating stare. This guy must have something special up his sleeve, because he stands with confidence before five guys who are all twice his size. “Gentlemen,” he says. “I’d love to say what a pleasure it is to see you again, but that would be a lie.”
Cole lets out a grunt. “We need everything you’ve got on Pitbull.”
Mario laughs. “No can do. You know the rules of the game.”
“The game just changed,” Cole says, his tone enough to turn my blood cold. “You know how this is going to end. You can either give us what we need or we’ll find it ourselves.” Mario’s eyes narrow dangerously on Cole before flicking to the rest of us. He lets out a sigh and sits back in his chair before going through some paperwork in his desk drawer. “Good choice,” Cole mutters, sarcasm lacing his tone.
