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“Well, the last time you idiots ransacked this joint, it cost me nearly ten grand in damages,” he informs us.
“Lesson well learned then,” Jace grunts, earning himself a nasty glare from Mario.
The seconds tick by painfully slow when he finally finds what he’s looking for and silently hands it to Luke. “This is all I’ve got,” he says. “Now get out of my restaurant. It’s bad for business.”
Luke looks over the papers and he clearly doesn’t seem happy about it, but he grunts anyway. “It’s going to have to do.”
He hands the paper to me, and all I see is the name and address of a gym. Without hesitation, I turn on my heel. “Let’s go.”
We get back in the truck, and Cole navigates to the gym. We pull up, the truck flying up over the curb and stopping on the sidewalk in front of the building. I’m out the door before the truck has even come to a stop.
Pushing on the door, it doesn’t budge, and I clench my jaw, giving the bastard a good shake just to be sure. “Fuck. It’s locked.”
Luke and Jace appear behind me. “We’ll check around back,” Luke says before they take off at a run. They’re gone for all of thirty seconds before they come tearing back around the corner. “No luck.”
I shrug my shoulders. If we can’t get in the right way, then we’re doing it my way. I take a few steps back to Cole’s truck and search the back, coming back a moment later with a crowbar in my hand. Then without hesitation, I smash through the thick glass doors.
The alarm screeches to life, and the five of us hastily make our way inside. Breaking and entering is not my best idea, particularly in broad daylight, but my options are slim. “We don’t have long before the cops are here,” Caden says, making us all move a little faster.
I head straight for the office with Cole on my heels, kicking in the door and instantly heading for the filing cabinets.
Cole hacks into the computer, and we spend the next few minutes searching. Each minute is another one that Charli is in the hands of that bastard, doing who knows what to her. The thought has another spurt of anger coming on, and I search faster, finishing the cabinet before moving to another, but still coming up blank.
I’m two seconds away from ripping the cabinets off the fucking wall when Jace comes darting into the office with a picture frame. He slams it down on the table, sending a big crack right through the center of the glass, but that’s not what catches my eye. Pitbull stares straight back at me, with the text below stating he was last year’s most promising fighter, his name printed clear as day right next to it.
Jackson fucking Delaney.
Cole wastes no time getting started searching through the gym’s records, and he pulls up the fucker’s file not two seconds later, finding every bit of information we could possibly need and more.
We’re out the door with moments to spare and turn onto the main road when we see the cops heading in the opposite direction.
“Which property are we heading to?” Cole asks, hitting the gas and sending us soaring down the main road as the cops speed past us, flying into the gym parking lot.
I look over the paper once again and find two addresses. One is a residential address and the other seems to be a warehouse. I give Cole the details of the warehouse and he hits it, with Luke and Caden following in the truck behind.
It’s just past nightfall when we finally get to the place we’ve been looking for, and I feel like it’s taken us way too fucking long to get to this point. The warehouse is old and abandoned with dim lights coming from inside. The place reminds me of the locations where the underground fights have been, and I don’t doubt that this place would probably be used in the future.
Bailing out of the trucks, we make our way toward the doors, and I prepare myself for the fight of my life.
Nobody touches my girl and gets away with it.
Chapter 21
CHARLI
Consciousness comes back to me and my eyes spring open to a cold, concrete room. My head is groggy and pounding, but it’s nothing compared to the fierce agony of my shattered wrist. My heart races, as it all comes back to me. The street, the van . . . Pitbull.
Adjusting myself on the cold ground, I quickly realize just how much trouble I’m in. Both my ankles and wrists are bound with rope and there’s a thick strip of duct tape across my mouth, making it impossible to scream. But what’s the point? I have a feeling no one is coming for me here.
