Page 55 of Her Possessive Bikers

Blood rushes in my ears as I step back, muscles tensing. One solid kick near the handle splinters the wood. Another, and the door flies open.

"Fuck. No, no, no."

The room's destroyed. Dresser drawers hang open, clothes scattered across the floor. The bed's stripped bare, sheets tangled and trailing toward the window. A lamp lies shattered by the nightstand.

Her leather jacket - the one she always wears - is crumpled in the corner. Indy would never leave without it.

"Jacoby!" My voice cracks as I shout down the hallway. "Get your ass in here!"

Footsteps thunder up the stairs, and Jacoby appears in the doorway, still wiping sleep from his eyes. "What's with all the—" He stops mid-sentence, taking in the chaos.

"Have you seen Indy?" My hands shake as I pick up her leather jacket. The leather's still warm. "Tell me you've seen her."

"Not since last night." Jacoby steps over the broken lamp, his usual playful demeanor gone. "God damnit."

"Check the bathroom." I toss him the jacket and move to the window. The screen's been cut clean through, edges bent outward. Professional job.

"Empty." Jacoby returns, face pale. "Her toothbrush is still here. Phone's on the nightstand."

"Fuck!" I slam my fist into the wall. Pain shoots through my knuckles but I barely feel it. "The Dos Banditos. They got past security somehow."

"That's impossible. We've had guys watching—" Jacoby freezes, staring at something on the floor.

I follow his gaze. A playing card lies half-hidden under the bed - the Queen of Hearts, corner singed black. The Banditos' calling card.

"We gotta wake Tres." Jacoby's already pulling out his phone. "Lock down the clubhouse. Nobody leaves until?—"

"They're long gone." My voice sounds strange, distant. "They planned this. Waited until we got comfortable." I pick up Indy's phone, screen still showing a text she never finished typing: 'Someone's at the win...'

"Kyler, breathe." Jacoby grabs my shoulder. "We'll find her."

But all I can think about is how I should've been here. Should've noticed something, heard something.

Jacoby and I thunder down the hallway, boots pounding against the worn floorboards. My heart races as we reach Tres's door. No time for knocking - I slam it open with my shoulder.

"Jesus fucking—" A bottle topples from the nightstand as Tres jerks upright. Some bleach-blonde croweater squeals, clutching sheets to her chest.

"Indy's gone." The words rip from my throat. "Someone took her."

Tres shoves the woman aside nearly knocking her off the bed, already reaching for his jeans. "What the fuck do you mean gone?"

"Room's trashed." Jacoby steps forward, holding out Indy's jacket and the singed playing card. "Dos Banditos left their calling card."

"Get the fuck out, Tish" Tres growls at the woman, who's trying to gather her clothes. She opens her mouth to protest but one look at his face changes her mind.

"This is bullshit," she mutters, stumbling past us. "I was almost?—"

"Shut it. I was pretending you were someone else the whole fucking time anyway," Tres yanks on his shirt, muscles coiled tight with tension. His eyes lock onto the Queen of Hearts in Jacoby's hand. "How long?"

"Can't be more than an hour." I run fingers through my loose hair, wishing I could think clearer. "Her phone's still warm."

"Jacoby." Tres's voice carries that edge that means someone's about to bleed. "Get every brother in the meeting room. Now. Kyler, show me her room."

"Already on it." Jacoby disappears down the hall, shouting for the prospects to sound the alarm.

Tres grabs his kutte, face dark with barely contained rage. "Nobody touches anything else in her room until I see it. And somebody find out which of our security detail fell asleep on their fucking watch."

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