Page 60 of Savage Fire

Fang’s cell rang. Checking the name, he swore. Davey, the prospect he’d put on Tessa that morning. Alarm hit him because Davey wouldn’t be calling for shits and giggles.

He answered, “You better be calling me from the common room, sitting across the table from a perfectly safe and healthy Tessa.”

“Something’s wrong, brother. Tessa got a call from her mom, and she had me bring her to some shitty motel on Haines. She’s in room three.”

“What the fuck, Prospect! You know her stepfather is trying to get his hands on her! He’d use her own damn mother to do it, too! Get in there now!” he barked, already on his way to his bike.

“Hold up, shit!” A distinctive pop, then the sound of shattering glass filled the line.

“Davey!” he shouted, mounting his bike, and turning the engine. He had to get there. Behind him, Dragon and Wolf were on their bikes, following. They didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but they had his back unflinchingly. No hesitation.

“Some fucker shot at me! Fuck! Got my shoulder.”

Another two pops.

“What the fuck is going on, Davey?” The sound of an engine, screeching tires, and panting.

“Fuck, Fang! I couldn’t stay, he had me trapped in the truck, I couldn’t get out to get to Tessa without getting a bullet to the head!”

“Where are you?” Fang demanded. He could hear panic bleeding into his voice. The situation went from shit to fucked up with that first gunshot.

Dios!What was happening with Tessa?!

“Pulled into a lot two blocks down—shit! Motherfucker got me good.”

Fang turned to Dragon, yelling over the roar of his pipes.

“Call Trouble! We need the doc!” Dragon nodded once before reaching up to hit the Bluetooth device in his ear.

“What lot, Davey?” Fang demanded, knowing that a wound in the shoulder could be deadly if the bullet nicked the artery.

Davey panted, his voice coming out in a croak, “Boston’s.”

Boston’s was a failed steakhouse franchise, with abandoned properties throughout the city. Remembering the motel Davey mentioned, he knew exactly where to find the prospect.

What felt like hours later but was in reality six minutes, he saw the black SUV parked haphazardly smack in front of the building. Fang motioned for Dragon to head to the SUV, while he and Wolf continued on the motel. As much as he wanted to check on the young man, he desperately needed to get to Tessa first.

“Hold on, Davey. Dragon is there and he’d gonna get you patched up,” he spoke through the cell.

The prospect didn’t answer. Shit!

Dragon had called Trouble who would bring the doc, hopefully they could save Davey. If not, the fucker who shot Davey would know the pain only a former member of one of the world’s most dangerous Cartels could bring.

Bringing their bikes to a stop just outside room three of a shit bag motel, Fang didn’t hesitate to pull his Sig Sauer P320 from his saddle bag, check that Wolf was armed and ready, and kick the door down. The room was empty.

Hurrying inside, Fang ignored the sounds of sirens in the distance, too worried about getting to Tessa—who could be hurt, who could be dead. Signaling to Wolf to check the bathroom, Fang headed toward the only other closed door in the room, the one that connected the next room to this one. Leaning in, he listened for movement or voices.

Nothing.

Silence.

Still—

He kicked the door, not giving a shit how much he’d have to pay to replace it.

The room was lived in; fast food wrappers on the floor and bedside tables, cigarette butts in the ash tray—whoever had been in here had left quickly.

Come on Tessa, show me what happened…tell me where they took you.

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