Page 25 of Rescued By the Rebel

“What are we going to do with him? We can’t transport him like this on our bikes,” Triton points out.

“I know. I’ll stash him in a stall here and ask someone to bring me my SUV from work.”

“I can go get it,” he offers, and I nod.

“Thanks. Help me get him tied up first.”

He nods, and together we all carry him into an empty stall. I’ll have to text Winnie and warn her to stay away from the barn for a bit.

“Chance says that the other guys took off. They probably realized that one of them was missing,” Triton tells me as he reads the message on his phone.

“Grab that lead rope,” I tell Triton, and he passes it to me.

I tie up the guy’s hands and feet with it and then start to search him. He doesn’t have a wallet on him, just a phone and a needle filled with something I’m sure I don’t want to know about.

“Think he was going to use that on your girl?” Triton asks me quietly, and I grit my teeth.

“Probably. I doubt that he just always carries around a needle full of drugs with him.”

“Fucking prick,” Triton hisses, and I nod.

“Have the guys stay here while you go get the SUV. They can watch over Winnie while I babysit this asshole. When he wakes up, we’re going to have a nice long talk.”

“Sorry that I’ll have to miss that,” Triton jokes, and I smirk.

“Go on. I’ll handle things here.”

He nods, clapping me on my shoulder before he takes off. I hear his bike start up and take off a few moments later.

The guy starts to stir and then I crouch down so that I’m at eye level with him. He squirms when he sees me, glaring at me, and I smirk.

“Hey there. Ready to talk?” I ask as I grab his shirt and drag him up to a sitting position.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, and I reach up, punching him in the face.

“Let’s try that again. Why are you hanging around this place?”

“Orders,” he grits out.

He spits a trail of blood on the sawdust and winces.

“From who?”

He stares at me, and I know that he won’t answer.

“Who was this for?” I ask him, waving the needle in front of his face.

“The redhead,” he spits at me, and rage clouds my vision.

They were going to hurt my girl. I want to murder this sleazeball, but I need him for information so I swallow down my anger and focus on the interrogation.

“You started the fire the other night too, didn’t you,” I ask, but we both already know the answer.

“Not me.”

“Well, then one of your guys.”

He doesn’t answer, and I know that I’m right.

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