Page 1 of Savage Angels

Chapter One

DANE REYNOLDS

President, Savage Angels MC

The roar of my bike echoes through the streets as I roll into Tourmaline, victorious from our mission in Vegas. The sun is setting, casting a fiery orange glow on the asphalt beneath Dirt and me. As we pull up to the Savage Angels MC clubhouse, the rest of the club spills out, cheering and slapping our backs. I can feel their respect for me like a palpable energy, but none of it matters if I can’t get in touch with Kat.

“Fuck!” I mutter under my breath, staring at my phone.

No missed calls, no texts.

Nothing.

“Hey, Prez,” Bear shouts over the commotion, “You good?”

“Can’t reach Kat.” My voice is tight with worry, barely audible over the din.

“Shit.” He frowns, understanding my unease.

“Everybody, inside,” I bark, waving my hand toward the clubhouse.

The party can wait—priorities first.

“Sorry, brother. Gotta make a call,” I say to Dirt as I stalk away, heading for some privacy. “Kat, pick up, darlin’.” Ringing. Voicemail. “Goddammit.” I redial her number again. “Come on, come on.” Another try. Same result. “Fuck!” The word shoots out like a bullet, anger and worry mingling in one potent cocktail.

I run my fingers through my long, dark hair, feeling the sweat bead on my forehead. I need to hear her voice to know she is okay.

“Pick up, Kat. Please.” Just ringing. Empty air on the other end. “Where the fuck are you?” I whisper, desperation creeping in.

The weight of uncertainty bears down on me, drowning out the laughter and celebration erupting from within the clubhouse.

“Dammit, Kat, answer the phone.” I try her number again, pacing my room like a caged animal. Voicemail. “Darlin’, it’s Dane. Call me back as soon as you can. I need to know you’re safe.”

I send a string of texts, each more frantic than the last, but nothing comes back. No comforting words, no acknowledgment. Just silence.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I mutter, slamming my fist against the wall. My knuckles throb, but the pain is nothing compared to the gnawing fear in my gut.

“Dane?” a voice interrupts my turmoil. Judge stands in the doorway, his wiry frame exuding calm. “Salvatore has been trying to call you.”

Flicking through my contacts, I dial Salvatore, who answers on the first ring. “Dane?”

“Do you know where Kat and my children are?”

“Tony has them.”

Tony is Sal’s personal security and was sent to Hawaii to keep an eye on our loved ones.

“What the hell is going on? Where’s Kat?”

“Tony didn’t want to take any chances. He thought he recognized some of Don Abruzzi’s men, so he moved everyone. They’re safe.” At his words, I sag onto my bed. “He’s got them stashed in a safe house. They’re fine, Dane, I promise.”

“Then why the fuck isn’t she answering my calls?” I snap, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Tony wanted to keep things on the down-low, make sure nobody could track them. He made them ditch their phones. I’m sorry, Dane. I should’ve called you sooner.”

“Damn right, you should’ve,” I growl, trying to steady my breathing. “Get me a secure line to talk to her, Sal. And I mean now.”

“Of course,” he replies, his voice firm and resolute. “I’ll try to set it up as soon as possible, but I need Tony to ring me as even I don’t know where they are. You’re not the only one wanting to hear your wife’s or children’s voices.”

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