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“I don’t have to,” Dev said. “You’ll bleed out before an ambulance can get here unless I apply a tourniquet.”
Rocko’s face paled as blood pooled beneath him. “What do you want?”
“I want to know who is supplying your drugs and why you’re looking for Meredith Smith.”
Rocko swayed and leaned back against the stack of boxes behind him. “I don’t know. We do what we’re told. We get paid in drugs. I couldn't care less why our benefactor wants this woman as long as he provides us with enough drugs to make a profit on the black market.” He stared down at his leg, his expression going from anger to panic. “Fuck. So much blood.” He glared up at Dev. “I’ve told you what I know. Now, stop the bleeding.”
Dev stared down at the man who’d given the orders for his men to capture Meredith and Kiana. He’d read the man’s file. He was ruthless and had gotten away with countless murders, with the police turning a blind eye. The man didn’t deserve to live.
But Dev wasn’t the judge and jury. It wasn’t his job to sentence this killer to death, no matter how badly he wanted to.
When Hawk stepped up beside him, he holstered his Glock, unbuckled his belt and knelt beside the leader of the Order of the Demons.
He slipped the belt beneath the man’s leg and ran the strap through the buckle, pulling it tight enough to slow the flow of blood.
“I want my belt back,” Dev said.
Rocko’s eyes rolled back, and he slumped to the side.
As Hawk checked in with the others, Dev pulled the tracking device from his pocket. “I’m going after Silas,” he said to Hawk.
“Rex, go with Dev,” Hawk ordered.
Dev moved through the shadows, not wanting to risk being shot by a rogue Demon. He was anxious to get back to Kiana. But he couldn’t go to her until he was sure Silas was safe.
Moving from one corner of a building to another with Rex covering him, he worked his way toward the green dot on the handheld device. As he approached a large shipping container, he was right where the dot indicated he should find the tattooed gang member.
Crouching in the shadows, he called out softly. “Silas?”
When no one answered, Dev moved toward the end of the shipping container, keeping low and shrouded in darkness. “It’s me, Dev,” he said just a little louder.
A voice murmured from around the corner of the container. “How do I know you are who you say you are?”
Dev chuckled. “You kicked me in the chest, flying by me on your motorcycle. I can show you the bruise.”
Another moment passed, and Silas stepped around the corner of the container. “Is it over?” he asked in a tone barely above a whisper.
“It’s over,” Dev said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“Rocko?”
“I left him passed out in the warehouse. He lost a lot of blood.”
“I hope he dies,” Silas said.
“You might get your wish,” Dev said. He’d done what he could to save the man’s life, but the world would be a better place if Rocko didn’t make it.
Silas kept his distance. “And the others?”
“Are being rounded up,” Rex said.
“Not possible,” Silas said. “You were outnumbered at least three to one.”
Dev grinned. “We had a little help from some friends.”
“What about Lacy and Luke?” Silas lifted his chin.
“Should’ve landed in Montana by now,” Dev said. “Come with me, and we’ll call Hank for an update.” He was losing his patience with the gang member and was anxious to get back to Kiana.
