Page 18 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

This is insane. I’m insane.

There’s no time for second guessing or panic.

I just need to get in without drawing too much attention, look for any clues then leave. If I can find some evidence to prove Laina’s been taken, then the police have to get involved. They must’ve known Laina was on to them and maybe tracked her down to her apartment. That idea makes me sick.

I know she didn’t say anything because I wouldn’t have let her walk out that door. Well, Laina. Now you’ve got us both dragged in.

The drive takesa few hours and I do everything I can to push any fear down my throat. This is not the time to let doubt take over or start to panic.

These guys will smell something’s up before I even utter a single word. I have to be calm, cool like I belong there and want to be there.

I park at a campground parking lot not too far from the coordinates Laina wrote down then plug them into my phone. It’s a thirty-minute walk from here, but I can’t risk them catching my license plate.

I tilt my head back and let out a sigh, until my nerves settle ever so slightly.

If Laina can do this, then I can too.

I decided to leave my little pistol in the locked glove box of my car. If they happen to find a weapon on me, it’ll be a dead giveaway I’m trouble.

With one last deep breath, I step out of my car. I’ve never prayed harder than I have at this moment.

The temperature has dropped a few degrees since I left the city, and the breeze whips through the treetops as I make my way into the dense forest. The giant redwoods loom over my head casting strange shadows and shapes around me.

I follow the GPS until I spot it.

A large, abandoned looking warehouse surrounded by huge steel gates. I curse under my breath. The place is more like a sprawling compound than a hang out spot. I imagine it's the main hub of their operations.

The gleam of a long line of motorcycles is undeniable.

Laina could be anywhere in there.

I breathe in and walk up the driveway, ignoring the eyes I feel on me. I make sure to keep my head held high, shoulders back as if I belong here.

A burly guy with tattoos on every visible part of his body stands at the gate, leaning against the iron. He eyes me up and down for a long moment. My heart thuds so heavy in my chest, I wonder if he can see the pulse in my neck.

He doesn’t say anything, and I walk past, not daring to breathe until I’m on the other side of the gate.

I’m in! It’s a small victory, but at this rate, I’ll take it!

The inside of the warehouse is dimly lit, music blares from speakers hidden in the walls. The whole place is packed, and I lose track counting how many flaming skulls sewn in leather vests stare at me with hollow eyes. The smell of pot, leather and alcohol sifts through the air.

Now what? This is part of the problem without having a plan or a team.

I spot a bar in the corner and head towards it. My gaze darting around the room, my senses on high alert. At least, in a dark place like this with so many bodies crammed in like sardines in a can, I won’t stick out.

The bartender, a large man with a goatee and biceps the size of both of my thighs, sets a full double shot in front of me.

“For me?” I ask in slight shock.

“Boss ordered it for you the moment you walked in here.”

Boss? I scan either side of me quickly and catch a pair of steel gray eyes watching me from the crowd. I know that face from the photos Laina showed me—from my dream.

My back stiffens. That one’s Vance. Jesus. I haven’t been in here more than three minutes, and I’ve already found out.

He walks over then, the dark t-shirt he has on hugs his lean frame, leaving very little to the imagination. The lines of tattoostrail over his carved forearms disappearing beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt.

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” he says with a slightly crooked grin. “Unless you don’t like tequila.”

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