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A victorious grin spread across Jo’s face. “Fuck yeah, we know exactly where he is. We followed him on city cameras to a house in a fancy-schmancy gated neighborhood on the water.”
“Not his?”
“Nope. Belongs to his parents. He got there an hour ago and hasn’t moved since.”
“Let’s go.” Lock hopped to his feet. “Now.”
Spec, who’d arrived seconds after Jo, held up a hand. “We need a plan.”
“Screw that.” Lock got in his face, aware he might walk away with a black eye or bloodied lip. “My woman has been missing almost an entire day, and we finally have a lead,” he shouted, waving the crumpled paper in Spec’s face. “The plan is to bust down the door and put a bullet in one body part at a time until he tells me where she is.”
Spec tilted his head and pursed his lips briefly before he shrugged. “Works for me.” He held out a fist, which Lock bumped with his own. “Let’s go get your woman back.”
“Hell yeah, let’s do this shit,” Jinx shouted with a whoop.
After Spec made sure they were all armed to the fucking teeth, they made their way outside to their bikes.
Sitting astride his motorcycle, Tracker grabbed Jo and planted a hard kiss on her lips.
“Be careful,” she whispered, grabbing his cut and shaking him. “I won’t be happy if you come home messed up.”
“Always. Love you, too, baby.” He kissed her again. Longer this time and with so much passion, Lock had to look away.
He’d wanted that—the intense connection they had. And he found it with Brenna. Nothing would stop him from getting her back. As he yanked his helmet on his head, he shoved all the other bullshit aside—guilt, worry, stress, his mountain of responsibilities. His son was safe in Harper’s arms. No one gave a shit that he’d struggled with drugs in the past. Continued grief over his sister’s death could wait a few hours. Everything took a back seat to the mission at hand.
The most crucial mission of his life.
Find and rescue Brenna.
Then bind her to him so fucking tight they were no longer two separate people.
“Let’s kick some motherfucking ass!” Jinx revved his engine loud enough to rumble the earth.
“Let’s ride!” Spec shouted.
Lock narrowed his eyes, let the fear and fury fire up his blood, and then joined the thunderous roar of his brothers on the road.
With each passing mile, his anticipation ramped until the sound of the wind whipping by battled the rush of blood in his ears. He’d never killed a man before and didn’t have the same bloodlust Spec did, but there was a first time for everything. If Oliver was responsible for giving Brenna one second of fear or pain, the bastard had seen his last sunset. Spec wouldn’t get the chance to kill him because Lock would be there first.
Forty long-assed minutes later, they parked their bikes in a public beach lot less than half a mile from Oliver’s parents’ house.
“You good?” Spec asked. “Head on straight?”
“No. My head’s totally fucked.”
Spec’s grin was borderline evil as he squeezed Lock’s shoulder. “Perfect. That’s what you need tonight. You’re taking the lead unless you’d rather me do it.”
He met Spec’s gaze. He didn’t often step back and let others fill his enforcer role, but the man knew how vital this moment was to Lock. How much he needed it.
“Thanks, brother.”
Spec scoffed. “Trust me when I say I’m looking forward to it.”
“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”
“Damn straight,” Spec said with a laugh. “Let’s move.”
For a group of such large, pissed-off bikers, they moved with a surprisingly quiet stealth. Hopping the gated fence was as easy as climbing in and out of bed. It turned out that being hopped up on gallons of adrenaline made most physical feats simpler. They arrived at the end of a stone driveway leading to a monster-size house within minutes.
