“Got no reason to.” Bass stands but gets closer to her, forcing her to look up at him as he glares down at her. “Now, you’re going to tell us what we want to know or you’re going to get hurt. And don’t think just because we’re looking for his woman that we won’t hurt another. Especially one who gets in our way.”
He isn’t wrong. Doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman, we don’t let anyone get in our way if they’re just as vile as this bitch. But… I will admit that we usually keep the women beatings down to a minimum and let someone else handle it. Ruby’s been known to get a few calls to help us out when we want to make a point with a female. Girl has her daddy’s brain and her mama’s temper. If the club ever let in women, no doubt she would be the first, and also the first to climb the ranks to president.
“But the cops,” Carolyn whispers on one last shred of hope as she finally gets that we aren’t playing around.
“Sweetheart.” Bass looks at her as if truly seeing how dumb she is. “Weownthe cops.”
Another lie. We might work with them, Casper being our point of contact, and we might help, but we don’t have any on our payroll. They just know that sometimes you need outside help like us, and we know that sometimes it’s better to be friendly with an arresting officer.
“Gator.” Kooper clips my name, and I look over at him. He’s down the hallway a bit and looking at pictures. “This the car?” He points at one of the pictures, and I move to him quickly, knowing Carolyn’s not going anywhere with Bass blocking her exit.
“Yup,” I say as I see the douchebag posing in front of his ugly-ass car with Carolyn. Looks like a fucking prom picture, which just pisses me off more. Guy probably had Bailey as his side thing by the looks of his age back then, and he still took this trash to prom.
“Where’s the Firebird?” Bulldog barks, and Carolyn flinches.
“Out back, in the shed. Why?”
We waste no more time with her, making our way out the back door to see the shed. It’s near a part of the fence that opens enough for a car to get in and out of with ease. Fresh tire tracks on the ground let us know it’s been used recently.
I shoot the padlock off and open the doors wide to see a very ugly yellow Firebird. “Search it.”
Casper and Kooper walk by me to go through it. Doubt we’ll find anything, but they’re the best at seeing things. With Casper’s experience as a sniper and Kooper’s with asset protection, they’re some of the best brothers to have right now.
“What the hell?”
We all turn and see the douchebag himself standing on the top steps of his porch, Carolyn behind him, clutching at her chest. Talk about good timing. I know she didn’t call him. No one has a fucking landline anymore. If your cell’s busted, you’re screwed nowadays.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He stomps down the steps and starts walking toward us. “This is private property. You have no right to be here or to go through my stuff.”
“I got him,” Bass says with a grin before he sprints over and takes him down to the ground like a defensive lineman.
“Pretty sure that wasn’t necessary,” Bulldog says with a bored expression, but I know it’s for show. The VP has his hand behind him, probably on his gun rather than propped on the shed door for support like he wants the others to believe.
“Yeah, but it was fun,” Bass says after he hops up and drags Troy over to me. “Damn, guy doesn’t even have a piece on him. Must think he’s untouchable or some shit.”
“I am, fucker. Do you have any idea who I am? Who my family is? I’m going to have you all arrested for this, and not a single one of you’ll be getting out for the rest of your lives,” he snarls as he comes closer to me before spitting at the ground at my feet.
“Where is she?” I say with all the calmness I can muster right now.
“Where is who?” he has the audacity to ask, as if we’re all crazy.
“Bailey,” Carolyn says from the porch. “They think we know where she is.”
Troy shakes his head, but I saw it. That spark in his eye and the little lip twitch. He knows.
I knock the wind out of him as I punch him in the stomach and then the face. Bass holds him up a bit as he searches his pockets.
“VP” is the only word Bass says before he tosses our second-in-command Troy’s cell phone.
“It’s locked,” Troy wheezes.
“You think that will stop us?” Bass says, another grin on his lips.
Bulldog comes over and holds the phone up, and Bass grabs Troy’s face to keep him from moving so we can unlock it by facial recognition.
“Got to love technology.” Bass smiles at me.
But I’m in no mood to smile.
