I raise my fist and we drive out of the compound and onto the main road into town. It's about a half hour ride to this chick's house. Probably closer to forty-five minutes on a normal day during business hours, but given it’s late at night, we should be able to breeze on in there quickly. I hope so at least. I really needtime to be on my side. This errand is important to my prez, and if this doc is important to him then she’s important to me too.
The doc’s neighborhood looks like your average, white-picket fence, family community. There’s a few streetlights lining the block. The houses all look dark, a few have reflections from the TV on, but mostly the neighborhood is asleep. We bring our engines down to a comfortable coast, but there is no way to mistake the rumble our bikes have created in this quiet little area. When I see the house belonging to the doc, it does something to my insides. Maybe it’s the white paneling, or the blue shutters that are so bright I can see what color they are in the dark, or the lilac bush outside the front windows, but it looks sweet. Homey. It instantly makes my chest squeeze tight and I don’t know why. Shaking my head, I walk up the front driveway, noticing no other cars around. Bullet peers into the garage window.
“Just the car we have registered to her.”
“So she’s still here,” Zane guesses, but his words feel heavy. If she was attacked, then there’s a possibility she’s still inside, and the odds that we find something not good are increasing.
I push forward, keeping my back along the side of the house. I notice right away that the front door looks dented in, like someone kicked it a few times. My teeth gnash together before taking out my gun and adding the long piece at the end to silence any shots I may take. We move in sync to the back side of the house where I notice a glass sliding door. Peering inside, I don’t see anyone. I do see couch cushions on the ground, the coffee table tipped and shattered, and what looks like a pot or a pan on the floor in the kitchen along with food all over the countertops. Zane slides a long piece of steel out of his jacket and jimmies the door. There’s no stopper in the bottom and we get in easily. Zane keeps guard while Bullet and I step inside. We scan the main area and the kitchen. I close the fridge door that had beenhanging open. Bullet motions his head up, signaling that he’s going upstairs. I keep to the main floor and follow it back to what appears to be a spare room and a laundry room.
“Doc,” I call out. “Rebels are here. Daggerz or Austin sent us.”
Silence.
I strain to hear anything in the rooms. Bullet’s boots can be heard upstairs, but there is zero scuffling or a woman’s scream. Fuck, I hope we aren’t too late. I want nothing more than to find this girl alive for Prez.
“I swear I’m not here to hurt you, angel. Prez sent me to help keep you safe, Doc.” I try again and this time I hear it. A small sob, a tiny noise of pain and fear. My gut clenches and I dive into the laundry room where it came from. I check the cabinet and then see the area I missed. A trap sliding door. Slowly, I lift the edge and see a long lock of silky, brown hair.
“My name’s Karma. I’m not here to hurt you. Let me help you,” I tell her, keeping my voice gentle. Her body shifts as she moves. I shove the door all the way up, not prepared to find crystal sky-blue eyes, framed with the longest lashes and rimmed in red from crying. Her skin is pale and splotchy from tears. Her small frame huddled, holding on to her body protectively.
My brain blanks out and I feel like I’m transported back in time, to when I first laid eyes on this girl. My heart stops completely as the air leaves the room. “Lyric?”
Chapter 12
Lyric
Stupid is what I am. How in the actual world I thought this night couldn’t get any worse, and then I was proven wrong. When I reached out to the Rebels of the Undead, I wasn’t sure it was the right choice. I just knew I needed help. I wanted to live, and I needed the protection their president had been offering me since I came to him about my problem. Never in all the time I’d known the club had anyone mentioned Colt Street. Or Karma, as he introduced himself. Four years ago, when I first became acquainted with the club, he wasn’t there. Logically, I know this is a new development and that they aren’t out to hurt me, but I’m not in my logical mind right now. I’m scared shitless, vulnerable, and I feel like all the safety my house had provided me is gone, swept away by a madman. My insides cringe and my muscles protest when I unfold myself and try to slide out from the little hole I’ve been in for who knows how long.
“Let me help you.” Colt reaches for me, and as much as I want to pull away from his touch, I know I will collapse without him holding me up. And I never want to be weak in front of Colt again.
I let him take my arm, and my body staggers a few steps. My legs feel like thousands of fire ants are crawling over my skin while the blood rushes back to its natural flow. My head spins from being upright and causes my vision to have black spots.
The first thing I notice is that my house is dark and it’s pitch-black outside. It’s also eerily quiet around us.
“What time is it?”
Colt’s brow furrows. “Almost ten. We should have been here sooner, but Daggerz wanted to be sure before he sent us in blind.”
“I didn’t know who else to call,” I admit, sucking in air to my lungs and counting in my head to keep the panic in check.
“You did the right thing.” Colt’s voice is hushed, while he gently pushes strands of my hair behind my ear. Shivers break out on my sensitive skin from the warmth of his touch. My stomach coils from taking comfort in the gesture. I have to remind myself it's because he’s familiar, and unlike the unhinged man in my house earlier tonight, he doesn’t mean to harm me.
As if reading my thoughts, Colt gently places his arm around my waist. “We need to get out of here. Prez wanted you to come with us tonight so you’re safe.”
Safe. Until he finds me. Obviously, the piece of paper from the courthouse has done absolutely nothing to protect me. “I need a few things.”
“I got a bag,” another voice announces, breaking through the quiet, and my heart leaps in my chest. “Oh, sorry to startle you, Doc.”
“It's okay, Lyric. Bullet is with us.” Colt’s grip on my waist tightens while he reassures me. I don’t miss the way the two men share a look between them. If the other guy is surprised that Colt knows my name or how familiar he seems with me, he doesn’t comment.
“What bag did you grab?” I turn to the new face warily, while slivers of annoyance embed in my blood.
The man, Bullet, holds up my brown hiking bag. “The one shoved under your bed that looked like an escape bag.”
My mouth drops open in shock. I seriously misjudged this one. I had, in fact, stashed an emergency run bag. Something I had learned about while working at the women’s shelter during grad school. My eyes connect with his and I tilt my head in gratitude. “Thanks, Bullet.”
He gives me a smirk before looping the bag over his shoulder. “If you have Doc, I’ll take the bag. We need to get out of here. Squirrel called in the disturbance and break-in, so it's reported.”
“Let’s go,” Colt replies and bumps his fist to the man’s shoulder. “Can you walk?”
