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I lift my face from Violet. "I'm an idiot."

"You're only an idiot because you brought Violet."

"He didn't bring me. I followed him," Violet mumbles against my chest.

Essex looks between us and frowns. "There's no way out of here. I've looked." He paces while my eyes land on a wooden table and two chairs along with a sofa.

Holding on to Violet, I sit down and pull her onto my lap. Jailbait doesn't just sit; she wiggles around and ends up astride me, her face buried in my neck. It takes me a moment, but then I grab one hip with a hand and the back of her head with the other. I catch a groan as she hits my erection. "Stay still," I whisper.

Essex stops pacing and watches us with a raised brow. "What the hell are you two doing?" he asks, his tone laced with amusement.

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the way Violet's body is pressed against mine and concentrate on finding a way out of our predicament. "They want Mrs. Lincoln's phone, right? Bea was getting it when I left." I pause. "What I don't understand is why would Lincoln do this with the FBI involved? It doesn't make sense."

“He must have an exit plan. The only thing that makes sense,” Essex says.

"Does that mean he's not going to jail?" Violet asks.

"He killed his wife. He's going to jail for that at least, providing I’m not right about him running," I say. "I want to know what is going on here. Why are there armed men here? Is this place the reason Dad and others have disappeared or died? I want answers, Essex. It's time we had them, don't you think?"

"We have to get out of here first, but I don't know how."

"We have to trust that the others will come for us. My parents will be looking for me too." Violet gasps. "Oh! That's not going to end well, is it?"

"Hey, Jailbait, we'll get out of here before anything happens to them."

"You can't say that, Ridge." She drops her forehead to mine. "We're in a bit of a pickle, aren't we?"

I can't help myself and grin. "Pickle, huh?"

Tears well up in her eyes. "Come here, Violet." I tug her gently until she settles against my chest. "Everything's going to be okay." I meet my brother's worried gaze.

38

BEATRICE

The loud rumbleof motorcycles jolts me out of sleep. I jerk to a sitting position. I must have fallen asleep while Harding was working on Mom's phone. I wish I'd fallen asleep in a more comfortable position. The engines purr before they shut off. Ed catches my eye and winces, so I ask, "Who’s outside?"

He doesn't look so happy as he says, "Jesus Drake, former president of the Den of Filth Motorcycle Club."

"Essex's uncle," I comment, stretching as I stand. "He told me about him."

Ed chuckles. I raise an eyebrow and Ed just shakes his head. "Maggie called him as soon as they took Essex. I don't like him being involved."

"We need all the help we can get. Jesus can go where you can't without a warrant." I grin and scurry out of the room to meet the mysterious Jesus Drake.

"Holy crap," I stutter when I see the guy. He's tall, with broad shoulders, a trim waist, and muscular thighs.

His eyes light up with mischief when he catches me looking at him. He grins and reaches forward. "You're catching flies," his deep voice rumbles as he gently pushes my chin up to close my mouth.

"You're hot for an old guy." My cheeks turn bright red when I realize I said those words aloud. "I mean, well, you're not old. I mean?—”

He chuckles and wraps one arm around my shoulders while he grabs Maggie with the other. "It's been a while since I had two beautiful women in my arms at the same time."

I blush even more.

Maggie laughs and pokes him in the chest. "Is Wilder with you?"

"No. The club is busy." He turns his head toward his bike, and there are two other guys in jeans, built like Jesus, leaning against their own bikes. "I brought some friends."

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