Pulling the gun from its spot against his spine, Wrath held it in front of him, making a slow turn. Seeing nothing, he rushed to the open doorway, his back against the wall. Taking a quick look into the living room, he swept inside.
“Cara!”
Nothing. He rushed to her bedroom. Empty. The bed hadn’t been touched, the sleeping pants and tank top she wore lying on the spread.
“Cara!” He knew yelling her name wouldn’t make her appear.
Hurrying back to the dining room, he shuffled through the papers on the table, his gaze landing on the words Demons Blood. Shoving the Glock back inside his waistband, he picked up one document, then another. Both were lease agreements between the Blood and potential tenants.
An explosion of expletives roared through the small apartment, followed by several more he’d forgotten to say the first time. Tossing the papers down, he searched the apartment, spotting the burner phone he’d given Cara and her purse. Grabbing it, he cursed again at the sight of her personal phone tucked into an inside pocket.
Slipping his own phone from his jacket, he called Raider. “Cara’s missing. Her purse and phone are at the apartment. Can you still track her?”
“Depends.” Raider’s voice was thick with exhaustion. “I gave you five trackers. Do you remember where you placed them?”
Rubbing his forehead, he let out an agitated breath. “Her personal phone, burner, truck, motorcycle…” His voice faltered as he tried to remember the location of the fifth tracking chip. “A hoodie she wears when not at work. The phones and vehicles are here.”
“And the hoodie?”
Wrath walked into the bedroom, rummaging through the dresser drawers, tossing several hoodies on the bed. All different shades of red or blue. None stood out. Frustrated, he ran his hands through each one. “It’s not in the ones at the house.”
“That’s good news. It means she may be wearing the one with the chip. I’ll get on it, Wrath.”
“Contact Wrangler, Ghost, and Rock. Let them know she’s been taken and get them over here.
Now!” Ending the call, he hit speed dial for Ethan.
“Cara’s been taken. I need your help.”
“Did you know Cara was working for the Bloods?” Ethan scanned the documents on her table.
“No.” Wrath wondered what else she hadn’t confided.
Wrangler, Ghost, and Rock returned, completing an inspection of the complex, their expressions bleak.
Ghost scanned the room again, stopping next to Wrath. “Sorry, man. We found no sign of her.”
Rock stood off to the side, phone against his ear. A moment later, he joined the others. “Tessa hasn’t heard from her. She met Cara for dinner last night. That’s the last time she’s spoken to her. I told Tessa to stay put, that I’d be in touch.”
Wrath ran a hand through his hair. “I want you to go over to Tessa’s, Rock. We don’t want another woman disappearing on us.”
Crossing his arms, Rock glared at him. “Fuck, Wrath. If you want a babysitter, I’ll call one of the other men.”
“No one else. She knows and trusts you.” Wrath let out a ragged breath. “If Cara does show up at Tessa’s, I want you there, not one of our crew she doesn’t know.”
Ethan nodded. “He’s right, Rock. We don’t know who took Cara, but we do know if it’s the Night Devils, they know who Tessa is. There’s no reason they won’t go after her.”
Wrangler stared down at the papers, picking one up. “Do you think the Blood would know anything about her disappearance?”
“I’m about to find out.”
Walking into Cara’s bedroom, Wrath sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t give Drago a chance to say anything before he bellowed into the phone.
“Cara Mortensen is missing. If I find out you or your men had anything to do with—” Wrath stopped at Drago’s interruption, his eyes widening. “Fine. We’ll meet you at our clubhouse.”
A minute later, he returned to the living room. “Drago swears the Blood had nothing to do with her disappearance. In fact, he’s raging mad about it. He’s meeting us at our clubhouse with Pacho, Snake, and a few more of his men.”
Wrangler leaned his shoulder against a wall. “That leaves the Devils, bro.”
Nodding as the acceptance of her abductor became clear, Wrath shot a look at Rock. “Get to Tessa’s, have her pack, and take her to your place up in the mountains. If Poison took Cara, he won’t hesitate at taking the doctor.”
Without answering, Rock ran outside. Seconds later, the roar of his bike faded down the street.
“I need to call in backup, Caid.” Ethan pulled out his phone, stopping when his brother grasped his wrist.
“Give us twelve hours.” Wrath looked at Wrangler and Ghost, then back at Ethan. “Would you and your most trusted deputy be able to help without putting out a bulletin?”
Jaw clenching, Ethan returned a hard look. “Yeah, I can do that. But if we find her with the Devils, you back off and let me handle it. Swear it, Wrath, or this conversation is over.”
A broad grin split Wrangler’s face. “Hell yeah, bros. A pinky swear.”
“Shut the fuck up,” his older brothers yelled in unison.
After a second, irritated glance at Wrangler, Ethan looked back at Wrath. “Are we clear?”
Threading fingers through his already disheveled hair, he nodded. “We’re clear.”
Walking to the door, his patience at an end, Wrath took one more look around the apartment. “Let’s get the hell out of here and find my woman.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Even through a pain-clouded sleep, Cara heard herself moan, a deep, throbbing pain shooting from the back of her head to behind her eyes. Trying to lift a hand in an attempt to touch her forehead, she stilled, her chest tightening in fear. Her wrists were bound, the same as her ankles.
Forcing her eyes open, Cara took in her surroundings. Except for some moonlight streaming through two small windows, the room was dark, shadows dancing over the bed she was sprawled out on.
Confusion clouded her attempt to remember how she got here. Blinking several times in a futile gesture to clear her head, Cara forced herself to breathe. Inhaling and exhaling three times, a memory returned.
Working at her dining room table, drinking a beer, hearing pounding at the front door. The next part remained fuzzy. She recalled a sense of frustration, yanking the front door open, then…nothing, until waking with her hands and legs restrained with zip ties.
Struggling to change positions, she felt an annoying sense of relief, realizing they’d bound her hands in front instead of behind her. Annoying since she shouldn’t be here at all. She should be in bed, sleeping, waiting to hear from Wrath.
Wrath.
Fear ripped through her. Did he know she’d been taken? Had they gone after him? And, most critical, who were they and why would anyone bother kidnapping her?
Hearing male voices, her frustrating effort to recall the events of earlier ceased. Cara stopped her attempts to sit up, lying still as the voices became louder, as if the men stood just outside the bedroom. Then the door opened, revealing two men who didn’t appear at all pleased to have her in their company.
Taking a good look at them, a chill ran through her, recognizing both. The bikers who’d attacked her in the parking lot, followed her and Tessa to the restaurant. Members of the Night Devils.
“You’re awake.” The older of the two, the one she remembered as Poison, president of the gang, walked to the bed, a mocking grin on his face. Reaching down, he grabbed her shoulders, wrenching her body into a sitting position. “Good.” He looked over his shoulder, giving a quick nod.
Mario, the sergeant-at-arms, lifted his phone, stepped toward the bed, and took several photos of Cara before moving back to the door. Crossing his arms, he watched Poison, his features blank, as if having a woman tied up in a spare room was normal. Perhaps it was.
Poison’s unwavering gaze stayed on her as he spoke to Mario. “
Send those to Wrath with the message. Give him eight hours to respond or he’ll be searching for a body no one will ever be able to find.”
Mario’s eyes flickered, giving a succinct nod.
The impact of Poison’s words hit Cara hard and swift, his meaning clear. If Wrath didn’t respond, she had a few hours to live. She didn’t want to know more about what awaited her. There was no need. Dead would be dead, no matter the method used.
Stalking into the clubhouse, Wrath checked the time. It had been barely an hour since he’d ridden to Cara’s apartment. Less than forty-five minutes since he’d discovered her missing.
He watched as Ethan and his deputy drove to the back, pulling into a large warehouse used as a garage. Wrangler and Ghost parked next to them. Since the attacks, all their vehicles were secured in the massive, bulletproof building.
Wrath walked out a back door to join them, his impatience growing. He wanted to be on the road, hunting the men who’d taken Cara. He didn’t doubt the Night Devils had her. They might as well have placed a sign on her front door. Poison and Mario were stupid for approaching her after work, then again in a crowded restaurant.
Half the town pulsed with gossip about the Devils targeting a civilian, threatening her in broad daylight. Poison was a dead man. He just didn’t realize it.
Joining them, Wrath halted at Raider’s excited shout.
“We may have found her, Prez.”
Shifting, he rushed toward Raider, hearing hurried footfalls of the others behind him. “Are you sure?”
“Your lady is wearing the hoodie with the tracker. The Devils would’ve found a phone, but they missed the chip in her clothes. Follow me inside and I’ll give you the coordinates.”
The others stayed in Wrath’s office while he rushed down the stairs behind Raider. A couple minutes later, he returned, spreading a map out on his desk. Checking the information Raider gave him, he looked down, pointing to a spot at least an hour away.
“It’s an abandoned ghost town. The road to it is too rough unless you have a four-wheel drive. When it rains, there’s no way of getting in or out. Only the most adventurous explorers go there these days.”
Ethan looked at his brothers, a memory flashing. “Dad used to take us there when we were kids.”
Wrangler nodded. “Yeah, I remember. I haven’t been there in years.”
Wrath straightened, his features hard as granite, voice low and menacing. “We’re going to see it again tonight.”
Cara shivered in the early morning chill. She’d done her best to pull the covers around her, the bindings on her wrists and ankles making the task difficult.
Neither Poison nor Mario had returned to check on her, ask if she needed to use the facilities or offered water. Even though images of what might be coming haunted her, she found their absence came as a relief. If she couldn’t see them, Cara could pretend they didn’t exist, her future out of their hands.
Relief came from keeping her thoughts on normal activities—all the work waiting for her attention, contracts to be completed, adoption agreements to review, final assignments to grade and report. She didn’t have time to be tied up, a hostage in some gruesome game between a merciless outlaw gang and a group of men under deep cover with more important missions than to rescue a lone woman.
As it had each day since he’d told her the story, Wrath’s fantasy tale about a group of hero bikers repeated itself over and over in her head. It had been a good story, meant for her ears only, never to be repeated. His words had soothed her heart, allowed Cara to regain a measure of trust lost at Glory’s appearance. Thinking of it now, trussed up and held for some purpose she didn’t understand, Cara hoped the tale would calm her fear.
Except for the reality it had been so long since she’d heard from Wrath. After almost six days without word, the thin thread of trust began to tear, her confidence in Wrath’s story fading the same as an aging photograph. She wanted to believe he’d learned of her abduction.
Cara closed her eyes, trying to remember her late husband’s words when joking around with his team members at a family get-together years before. If she recalled right, they’d mentioned high-value targets, how the vast percentage of Americans wouldn’t fit the definition. If abducted or caught between forces of good and evil, they’d be better off praying for divine intervention than expecting the Navy’s finest to spring into action. She snorted at the dismal thought. Greg truly had been a downer.
The sound of the door slamming open startled Cara, prompting her to jerk before scooting away until her back hit the wall. Mario stepped into the room, a bottle of water in one hand, a piece of bread in the other.
How cliché. Cara almost laughed, then grimaced. Mario’s eyes narrowed to slits, a feral smile flashing from across the room. Stalking forward, he tossed the water and bread at her.
“Looks like you’re going to take up residence in the desert, chica.”
Her effort to grab the water with wrists constrained by zip ties stalled. A glacial ball of fear settled in her stomach. It must’ve shown on her face because his smile grew wider.
“Yeah, that’s right. Wrath’s gotten two messages. Didn’t respond to either.” He bent over her, voice cheerful and threatening at the same time. “Seems your man doesn’t care about you.” Straightening, he shrugged. “His loss, my gain.” His head fell back on a robust laugh as he walked out, the door banging shut behind him.
Staring at the stale piece of bread, her stomach lurched. Even if she could take a bite, it would never stay down. Nothing would. Not after Mario’s announcement.
An icy chill took residence in each limb, teeth chattering on a wracking shudder. Cara didn’t need a mirror to know her lips were blue and face pale.
Wrath hadn’t responded to Poison’s message. Twice.
Tears formed, but Cara ruthlessly willed them away. Never in her life had she been a complacent victim, someone who wallowed in misery, accepting pity with a weary shrug. She’d always been a fighter, someone who emerged from tragedy stronger.
Greg’s cheating stunned her, hurt terribly. After a brutally verbal argument, she’d crossed her arms, lowered her voice, and calmly told him they’d be getting a divorce. At the time, she’d known of only one of his betrayals.
The following morning, she’d gone downstairs to see Greg’s note about being called back to the base, saying he’d never agree to a divorce. Cara had no reaction. Instead, she’d made coffee, filled a cup, and gone through the desk drawers and files in his office.
It had taken a couple hours before she found what she somehow knew would be secreted away somewhere. Greg had never been content to quietly celebrate his achievements, slapping himself on his back long after others had stopped.
Holding up her find, a small black journal, she’d leaned against the desk and thumbed through it. As she suspected, Greg kept a record of the women—names, their description, phone number, and email. The last column held numbers ranging from one to five.
Instead of running to her girlfriends or family, she’d begun preparing for a single life, funneling her pain into productive activities. Greg’s death had changed her plans, but not much.
Allowing righteous anger to build, she inhaled and exhaled several breaths, willing her brain to clear. If she’d been left at the mercy of the Devils, the time had come to save herself.
Leveraging her back against a wall below one of the windows, she tucked her bound ankles underneath her, pushing upward. It took several attempts before she stood, wobbled a little, but didn’t topple over.
Waiting a few moments to steady herself, she bit down hard on her lower lip, inching around to face a window. The glass was filthy, creating an almost frosted appearance, the sky dark with a smattering of stars. She saw no lights around her prison, nothing in the distance to indicate a town. Her hope of escape took a heavy blow. They’d brought her to the middle of nowhere.
“Ghost?”
“Team One is set, Wrath.”
“Wran
gler?”
“Team Two is set.”
“Ethan?”
“We’re set, Wrath.”
“Hold your positions. Wait for my go.”
Wrath lay prone on the hard ground, Gunner and Moses on either side of him, both about six feet away. Their night vision goggles would provide an advantage, at least for a short period.
“Raider. Do you have location of extraction target?”
“Affirmative. Extraction target in southwest corner. Repeat, target is in southwest corner of building. That’s one hundred percent, Wrath.”
“Roger.” Wrath shot a look at Moses and Gunner, getting a satisfied nod from each. They were facing the southwest corner, Cara not fifty yards in front of them. “Ethan. Target in southwest corner. Sixty seconds for your go. Repeat, sixty seconds to go.”
By prior agreement, Ethan and his deputy would announce their presence to Poison, requesting they stand down. Teams led by Ghost and Wrangler would provide backup, ready to move on Wrath’s order. When Poison refused, which they expected would be his response, the two teams would create a diversion, drawing the Devils to the north and east sides of the house.
“Hold your positions. Thirty seconds to go, Ethan.”
“Roger.”
Wrath could see Ethan rise from his prone position to kneel beside a large saguaro cactus, the deputy positioned a few feet away.
“Ten seconds…Five…Two…Go, Ethan.”
Right on cue, Ethan stood, placing the cactus between himself and the dilapidated building. “Poison, this is Sheriff McCord. You and your men are to come outside, hands above your head.” Getting no response, Ethan repeated his order. “You are surrounded, Poison. Come out so we can have a little discussion on your latest activities.”
Hearing Ethan speak the code words, latest activities, the rest of the men went on alert.
“Ghost, Wrangler, thirty seconds to your go.”
Both replied in the affirmative.
“Last chance, Poison.” Ethan took a couple steps back when the Devils continued their silence.
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