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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY HOURS AND counting.
And they had nothing.
Not one goddamn thing.
Copper, the president of the club’s mother chapter in Tennessee, had a connection with a guy named Acer who could make computers sing, dance, and blow him on command. He’d done some magic to triangulate Brenna’s phone. For a solid half hour, Lock had been convinced they’d found her. The whole damn club raced to the coordinates Acer provided, only to find the phone sitting on a soup display in a grocery store. Whoever took her was smart enough to lead them astray.
“God fucking dammit!” Lock shouted. Even standing in a huge grocery store, he felt the walls closing in. He struck out, catching the artful display with his foot as he cursed again—cans scattered in all directions, denting as they rolled across the floor.
A woman yelped, and customers cowered in fear as they watched a furious biker lose his damn mind.
“Get him the fuck outta here,” Spec ordered as he gave Lock a shove in Jinx’s direction.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, allowing Jinx to herd him outside. But he wasn’t remorseful. He didn’t give one single shit about the store or the cans or whatever Spec had to do to smooth things over. “I lost my shit.”
“Ain’t a thing,” Jinx said with a shrug. “Pretty sure I caused worse chaos purely for fun when I was a teenager.”
Lock grunted. Usually, he’d have a quip about being called a teenager, but he didn’t have the energy to think of anything but Brenna.
Where was she?
Was she hurt? Cold? Scared?
Was she thinking of him?
He climbed into Jinx’s truck and slammed the passenger door. No one had been willing to let him ride alone, so they’d force him into a cage with a babysitter.
“Fuck,” he said as Jinx slid behind the wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he screamed the last one long and loud, slamming the heel of his hand on the dash repeatedly. “Christ, Jinx, what do I do if we find her and she’s—”
“Don’t say it. Chrissake, man, don’t even think it. It’s not going to happen.”
Blowing out a breath, he nodded. “You’re right. Okay. What the fuck do we do now?”
“We push on. Search for the next lead and jump on it. And the one after that, if we have to, until we find her and bring her home to you.”
“Yeah. Thanks, brother. Keep doing that, okay?” Lock asked as he stared at the passing scenery. Sunset was coming. Soon, it’d be dark. Maybe Oliver would finally come out of hiding, feeling safe in the cover of night.
They’d grab the fucker then.
“Keep doing what?” Jinx turned onto the long dirt road leading to the clubhouse.
“Pushing me back on the path when I stray.”
“Of fucking course, brother. Why the hell do you think I’m here? Not that you need me. You’ve been to rehab. You’ve been rocking sobriety. You got the tools.”
He snorted, turning to Jinx. “Yeah, well, I bought a nice bump of heroin the night I got the court papers.”
Jinx didn’t react with the shock or disgust Lock had expected. “You use it?”
“No. Gave it to Bren. She flushed it.”
“Well then, I would call that a win, not the failure you seem to be looking at it as. You had a shitty thing happen, you came close to using, but instead you used your tools. Stop with all this fucking guilt shit. You gave that garbage to a woman who you love and who wouldn’t let you hurt yourself.”
His heart stuttered. “Why the hell do you think I love her?”
That had Jinx laughing the over-the-top laugh he only did when thoroughly amused. “Cuz I got eyes in my goddamn head, you idiot. You only gotta be around you two for five seconds to see it. You stare at her like you can’t decide if you want to eat her out or feed her grapes and fan her with fig leaves while she sips wine on a chariot carried by angels.”
