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"You're the football coach, Garrett,"Dillon reminds me for the third time. "You can't just drag the bastard out of his car and kick the shit out of him in the middle of town, for God's sake."
I'm seriously beginning to question why I went to him instead of Razor and Reid. They aren't law enforcement. They'd be down to help me kick the shit out of Bellotti for following Todd around town. Dillon, on the other hand, is trying to be the voice of reason. And I get that. Really, I do. He's the sheriff. It's his job. But I don't feel like being reasonable right now.
I feel like finding Leone Bellotti and putting the fear of God into him.
"Just drive faster," I mutter to Dillon, staring out of the window at every car we pass.
"He's not wrong," Cash Montoya says from the back seat. As soon as I filled him in, he decided he was going with me. He's got half of the MC out looking for Bellotti, too. The other half is at the clubhouse, keeping an eye on Todd. "You've got to keep up appearances. Wait until you get him alone, and then fuck him up."
Dillon glares at him in the rearview mirror. "Are you helping me here or trying to stress me the fuck out?"
Cash shrugs. "You know how we feel about people who mess with kids. That shit hits too close to home for too many of us."
I'm not sure what he means by that, and I don't ask. Their business is their own. I appreciate the hell out of him for helping me out, but I'm not trying to stick my nose where it isn't needed.
Dillon seems to know what he's talking about, though. He grunts, letting the subject drop.
A few seconds later, my phone buzzes.
I pull it out, figuring it's Ciara texting to let me know she and Carlie are getting ready to head out, but Xavier's name flashes across the display. I sent him to the house to make sure Ciara made it to work safely.
"What's wrong?" I growl, bringing the phone to my ear.
"You need to get here," my brother-in-law says, his voice grim. "I just pulled up and her friend is here. She said the car idling on the curb belongs to one of those fuckers. They're inside with her, man."
"Fuck!" I roar. My heart slams against my ribcage, fear for Ciara overriding everything. That motherfucker is at my house with my girl right now? If he so much as touches her, I'm killing him. I don't fucking care who sees me do it. I will destroy him. "Bellotti is at the house with Ciara."
"Jesus Christ." Dillon flips a switch on the dash and hits the gas, blowing through the red light ahead as the sirens blare.
"We're on the way," I rasp to Xavier. "Don't let them leave with her. No matter what, don't fucking let them leave."
"I won't," he promises. "Until you get here, I've got her. Just get here."
* * *
Cash callsthe MC on the way. By the time we pull up out front, a line of bikes is hauling balls up the road alongside three squad cars.
As soon as Dillon slows, I jump out. I land on my feet, already running.
"Garrett, goddammit!" Dillon shouts behind me.
I ignore him. There's not a chance in hell he's stopping me from going in after Ciara. I don't care about protocol or back-up or any of that other bullshit. She's the reason I exist. If they hurt her, I won't survive it. I don't want to survive in a world without her.
Xavier meets me at the end of the driveway. Carlie's sitting in his truck, bawling.
"One of the dumb fucks stuck his head out a couple minutes ago. Seemed surprised to see us out here," Xavier says without preamble. "She says it was Enzo Bellotti."
"Is Leone in there, too?"
"Looks like it." Xavier shakes his head in disgust. "Enzo was yelling for him when he slammed the door."
"So, they know they've got company. Son of a bitch," Cormac Carmichael growls, jogging up to us with Dillon and Cash.
"I'm going in," I mutter before anyone can try to come up with some bullshit plan that keeps her in their hands even longer. "I don't care if I have to go alone, but I'm going in after her before they have time to decide their only way out is by doing something they can't take back."
Fuck.
Please, God. Don't let them hurt her.
