AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cash steps toward me, knowing me at a glance. “What went wrong? Where’s Sydney?”
I toss her purse on the nearest table and move straight for the bar. I need some liquor in my system. Some hard whiskey to calm the edgy feeling I’ve taken on. My nerves are shot, and I can’t think straight.
Sydney’s missing. Somebody took her. And all I can fucking do is toss back shots of whiskey and clench my jaw at the throbbing migraine I’ve got.
Anytime an MC takes somebody hostage it’s never a good thing. That person rarely makes it out unscathed in some serious way… or worse, alive.
“Mace?” Cash prompts. “What is it? Where’s Sydney?”
“I… I don’t know,” I answer. I accept another shot from Mick behind the bar and swallow it with the scorching burn down my throat. “She wasn’t there. I think somebody took her.”
That gets Mick’s attention. He does a double take, his eyes wide and bushy white brows high on his forehead. “What d’you mean somebody took her? Like a Hellrazor? What’re you doing here? Go after her!”
“It couldn’t’ve been a Hellrazor,” Ozzie says from where he sits. “We had their bar floor covered in their blood. When would they’ve had the time?”
“Unless somebody broke off the way me and a few others did.” Cash slides his fingers through his golden hair and takes on an expression that tells me he’s thinking hard. “You don’t think she ran off on her own, do you? I know she’s not the type but—”
“Did you miss her fucking purse I just threw on the table?!” I roar over him. Veins pulse in the side of my neck and I slam my fist down on the bar counter, signaling for another shot of whiskey that Mick quickly supplies. “She didn’t fucking run off! It’s not Syd’s style to stage some kinda kidnap situation, then leave her purse behind like that!”
“She lied once. Who’s to say she’s not lying again?”
The skeptic’s voice belongs to none other than Johnny Flanagan.
Johnny fucking Flanagan, who still sports a few cuts and a big yellowing bruise from where I’d knocked him out a couple weeks ago. He’s sitting far in the corner alongside his old man. Both aim looks of derision in my direction. His old man out of dislike that I beat the hell out of his son, and Johnny being Johnny. Annoying like a damn gnat.
It’s the wrong fucking moment.
I snap, whirling around, leaving the bar counter behind. In two short strides I’m coming up on Johnny, about to bash his face in a second time this month.
Cash hurries to throw himself in between. “Not right now, Mace. If Sydney really is missing, then we need to get a move on. We need to do what we can to find her.”
The common sense jars me out of my blinding rage. The way only common sense spoken by Cash can.
I shake my head to refocus myself and then face the bar room. “Cash is right. We need to find Sydney. That’s our priority first and foremost. The Hellrazors are suspect number one.”
“That would be some grimy shit they pull,” Ozzie says, smashing his left fist into his right palm. “Sounds like I’ve got a few more grenades to throw.”
“We canvas Wheaton, Pulsboro, and the area in between far and wide. Ask locals. Check if they’ve seen something.”
The men are dismissed and break apart in different directions to go put their gear on and grab their hardware.
I remain behind, trying to calm the fuck down.
Sydney’s gonna be okay. It’s only been a couple hours. She’s probably giving hell to whoever took her.
“Hang on, Syd,” I mutter to myself.
“She’s gonna make it. Syd’s a fighter if there ever was one,” Mick offers with a resolute nod. “That girl’s been through a lot. I can tell.”
Guilt claws away at me listening to Mick’s admiration for Sydney. She has been through a lot. Even from just what little I know.
Orphaned at a young age. Taken in by Jacob Singer and his wife, only to lose them too. She’s mentioned being all alone.
You’re not, Syd. You’re not alone. You’ve got me. And the club. We’re your family now even if you don’t realize it yet.
The saloon doors swing open and in walks Velma looking like she’s had a rough night out. She limps through the door wearing her giant shades that cover more than half her face, and with her tall hair practically a bird’s nest.
But what stands out most, as she clutches a to-go coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, is the split lip she’s sporting.
