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Cutter shook his head. “I don’t know. Guess she didn’t take the hint.”
Dog was twenty minutes away from her, and too much could happen in that length of time. The prospect wasn’t much in the muscle department—Nate would end him with one punch, but maybe he had a gun. “Is Poke carrying?”
Cutter tapped on his phone and hit send. Precious seconds passed before a ringtone sounded.
“Fuck. He isn’t. Didn’t think he needed to since he was just tracking Nate.”
Dog wasn’t either, but his fists would be more than enough. He leaned toward his bag for his clothes.
Shit. If he left, he’d forfeit the match, losing the serious bets his brothers had placed and fucking up their chance at Luke’s money. Jessie needed that treatment, like yesterday.
Dog glanced at Luke. Luke’s expression was laced with anger. It was like he read Dog’s mind when he said, “Go. We’ll figure something else out. You can’t let that asswipe have her. Not now, not ever.”
Cutter butted in. “Go on. I have an idea how to save this.”
Dog grabbed his T-shirt and vest from the bag and shrugged them on. “She’s in this mess because of me. Tell Prez what’s going on.”
Cutter nodded, and Dog bolted for the door, shoving angry spectators out of his way. Once he got to his bike, he was on it and gone from the depot.
Images of Nate and the dark-haired man were a train wreck on his thoughts, but he couldn’t shake them. Charley with a pillowcase over her head, hands zip tied behind her back. Screaming around a gag. Fuckers pulling off her pants and—
Dog ran a red light and swerved to miss being side swiped by a cage. Tires squealed behind him.
He let off the accelerator, shifted to a higher gear, and gunned the engine.
After Dog had hurt her so bad, shoved her aside like she didn’t matter to him when everything in him had raged that she did, Nate hadstill got to her. Dog should have found him and beat him earlier, but Luke needed the money. If Charley got hurt…
Dog’s heart was pounding like a jackhammer as he merged onto I-26. His bike speedometer passed a hundred miles per hour before he was satisfied. He dodged traffic, slipping between cars that blocked passage. Drivers laid on their horns, but none of it mattered. He had to get to her.
A text chimed from his phone in his cut, but it barely registered as he took the exit toward Edwards. The two-lane highway slowed him down, but he passed drivers on whatever side was necessary to make his way.
A quick turn onto Reeves, Charley’s street, and Dog eased off the throttle to be as quiet as he could. He never knew when surprise would be useful. Poke came into view, sitting on his parked motorcycle a couple of houses down from Charley’s cottage just outside of the streetlight’s illumination. Nate’s SUV sat in plain sight in her driveway, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Dog stopped beside Poke. “The two of them still in there?”
“Yeah. They’ve turned off the lights and pulled the shades. Can’t get a read on the situation now.”
Dog shut off his engine and dismounted, and Poke followed his lead. Dog jogged toward the cottage. The front door opened, and Nate stepped out on the porch.
Rage ripped through Dog’s gut and burned into every part of him. It was true what they said. His vision turned red, and it tunneled until the only thing he saw was Nate.
Nate tucked his phone in his back pocket and started toward his car. He had the driver’s side door open when Dog entered Charley’s yard. Nate spotted Dog, but instead of looking surprised, his face split into a wide grin.
“Lookie who we have here. Guess you got my text. I don’t know how you got here so quick, but it doesn’t matter. You forfeited. Purse is all mine.”
His words barely registered. Dog didn’t know what text he meant, and he didn’t care. He grabbed Nate’s collar and landed a hard jab to his mouth. The skin on Dog’s knuckles split against Nate’s teeth. It was worth the pain to take that smug look off Nate’s fucking face.
Nate shook it off and locked Dog in a grapple. He got in two sharp punches to Dog’s gut before Dog shoved him off. Dog swung, and he was rewarded with a satisfying crack. Nate snorted blood out his nose, the spray wide enough to cover them both.
The roar of motorcycles drowned out the fighters’ panting. Dog’s brothers had arrived. They would hang back. They knew the bastard was Dog’s.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Charley watched as Nate shut the door behind him, and Reggie threw the deadbolt. He snagged Charley’s glass of McCallan’s from the coffee table before sitting in the floral chair by the fireplace. He stared at her with a hungry look and licked his lips, leaving them shiny. He took a long drink, all but draining the tumbler. “We’re going to have a good time tonight.”
Charley steeled herself against a shudder. “Help yourself to the whiskey. I’ve lost my interest in it any way.”
He smiled, and sweat popped out under Charley’s arms. “Don’t mind if I do. It’s good stuff. Smooth, just like I expect your skin to be.”
