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“Yeah, you and me both.”

“I put a call in to Cotton,” Prez announced. “He’ll get back to me when he finds something.”

Cotton had been the president of the Washington chapter for as long as I could remember, but he’d stepped down a few months back and had taken on a much more powerful role. He’d taken over a kind of distribution role that put him in contact with some of the most powerful men on the planet, and their power hadn’t come from politics or old money. These guys were heavy into the mafia and cartel, and everything in between.

If anyone knew something about the Volkovs, it would be him.

I gave Prez a nod. “Appreciate it.”

My patience was running razor-thin when the clubhouse doors swung open, and Ghost walked in with Rooks. Rooks followed behind him, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowed with anger, and when they reached us, Rooks snarled, “What the hell is this about?”

I didn’t even think.

I charged at him.

My fist connected with his jaw, forcing his head to the side. He recovered fast, and unlike the time before, he swung back,catching me in the ribs. Pain flared, but I didn’t let it slow me down. I rammed my shoulder into his chest and tackled him. We both crashed to the floor and immediately rolled. Fists flew, and we both landed some solid hits.

I barely felt a thing.

My body was running on pure adrenaline.

I caught him under the jaw and dazed him. I used the opportunity to pin him down with my knee digging into his chest. I grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him closer as I roared, “They took Tallie, you piece of shit!”

Rooks froze beneath me. His eyes locked onto mine, and the whole damn clubhouse was silent. And for the first time since this nightmare started, I saw something flicker in his expression.

Something like fear—not for himself, but for Tallie.

Fuck. This was even worse than I thought.

18

TALLIE

Ihad no idea where I was.

We hadn’t driven far, so I knew we were still in Little Rock. I didn’t know much else, just that I was sitting in a massive office that was filled with expensive leather furniture and smelled of expensive cigars and aged whiskey. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls and a grand fireplace nestled in the center. And then, there was the desk.

It was huge and looked like it belonged to a king, and behind it sat the man who had taken me.

I expected a monster.

A scarred, ruthless brute with menacing eyes and a fearsome sneer.

But that wasn’t what I got. Not even close.

This guy was handsome, intimidatingly so, and I found it difficult not to stare at him. He was tall and muscular but not overly so. He had a chiseled square jaw and high cheekbones, and his wavy, dark hair was neatly combed back. His black suit was tailored to perfection, and it made him look powerful and intense.

He was well put together. There was no denying that.

But it was his eyes that intrigued me the most.

They were icy blue, almost too blue, and they shimmered against the darkness of his features. I expected to find a sense of evil lurking behind them but found none. Instead, there was something else. Something I couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No.” I straightened my back as I asked, “And what about me? Do you know who I am?”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” His face was void of expression as he told me, “I’m Sergei Volkov, and you are Natalie Warren, artist extraordinaire. Daughter of Jody and Tom Warren.”

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