Page 17 of Tess, Property of Blaze

Blaze

Iwalk into the clubhouse, anxious to find Tracker. I know Prez has called church, but I gotta get this outta the way before I can even think of anything else.

“Hey, Blaze, we’re all waiting on you.”

Not having realized that Rhyder was already standing by the church door, I nod my head in response. It’s gonna have to wait till afterward. I know Tess is out shopping with Lu, because I did read her messages, I just wasn’t ready to answer any of her calls or hear her sweet, husky voice. I’m still pissed and just can’t deal with it all right now. But one thing I know is, I’m gonna get to the bottom of what’s going on in that mind of hers.

“Blaze, get your ass on the chair,” Prez yells from the head of the table as I walk into the room. I look around and spot Tracker in his normal seat. Content for now, I remove my leather jacket and place it on the back of my chair, then take a seat and turn to face Prez. I’m the sergeant-at-arms, the protector, and always go in first to protect my club from whatever we’re fighting against.

Prez eyes me, his expression clearly questioning my mood. Prez, who’s usually clean-shaven, has now got a scruffy jaw. He looks older, mature, and even more like a man you don’t want to mess with.

“I’ve called church today, boys, because I’ve received some intel that I can’t seem to swallow.”

“What is it, Prez?” Trigger mumbles from beside me, and we all listen intently, wondering the same thing.

“Brothers, we’ve always agreed that as an MC, we weren’t going to get involved in any other biker club shit, especially after all that shit that went down with my old man and the cartel, but this is different. There’s a club that’s stealing women from the streets and selling them to rich assholes. Our streets, boys, no one else’s.”

“Selling them?” I spit out, not fully understanding Prez’s statement. “What the hell for?”

Hawke looks over at me. “For sex slaves, dumbass, what else?”

“Sex slaves? You can’t be serious?” I murmur, feeling my stomach turn as the reality of what Hawke just said sinks in.

“Dead serious,” Prez growls, his jaw set in stone.

“These girls are as young as twelve, brothers—that’s my Rose one day not too far away, other people’s young daughters. Are these the sort of people we want around our town?”

“Fuck no!” Hawke grunts, and all of us follow in agreement. Sure, Prez and Hawke have daughters, and Trigger’s about to have his own child, but even if I don’t have any kids, there’s no fucking way I’m allowing this shit to happen, especially in our town.

“What’s the name of the club who’s involved?” Gunner questions, his fists tightening in front of him on the table. Yup, he’s pissed.

“That’s the thing, we’re not a hundred percent sure.”

I sit back in my chair and rest my head on the back. “So how do you know this shit is happening?”

Prez gives me his full attention. “Tate called Tracker last night, said Luke’s sister has vanished. He’s been looking everywhere for her. Last he spoke to her, she was down in New York with a friend, and she just never returned. He’s tried to call her, but it goes to voicemail.”

Tate is Tracker’s brother, blood brother that is; he’s a member of the Sinners MC, and the spitting image of Tracker. Tate’s club helped us out when shit went down with the cartel. He’s a good man, and Luke is too. Tate is the Sinners’ sergeant-at-arms, and it’s his duty to find out what the fuck is going on. He’s their protector.

My attention focuses back on Prez.

“He found out that his sister was last seen Monday night, being dragged by two men into an SUV. Someone was smart enough to get the number plate, and when Tracker ran the plates for him, they led to another biker club.”

Biker club?I growl. “Which club has the balls to come here without a word?” I spit out, pissed that this is happening right under our noses.

“My thoughts exactly,” Prez agrees. “That’s why I asked Tracker to dig further. It seems it’s a club called the Forseekers.”

“The Forseekers? Why does that sound familiar?” I ask.

Prez’s eyebrows draw together. “They were on the news not long ago. They were suspected, by the police, of the death of that girl. What was her name again…?”

“Rachel,” Hawke answers.

“That’s it, Rachel.”

My mind travels back to a couple of months ago. They’d mentioned on the news that a girl had been missing who was later found dead in LA. Rachel was fifteen years old and had her whole life ahead of her. She was raped and choked to death, the news reported. The police had investigated the Forseekers because a member was seen hanging around the school she’d been attending at the time. Unfortunately, the FBI had no proof that they’d been involved, and as far as I know, the case still remains unsolved.

They had no proof, or maybe they were paid off….

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