Page 93 of Savior

Zane moved forward with a growl, only to be stopped by Dakota before he could batter my face. “Hey there, Big Guy. Sun’s getting real low.”

She began petting his arm as though he were a kitten before turning to me. “I know how it sounds, but Bear’s not the one behind this. He said that the Sons have eyes on my mother—that they have eyes everywhere.”

I nodded and turned back to the dark house in resignation. “In that case, we’ve all been wasting our time. Rogers is dead.”

“How do you know that?” Lauren asked. “Maybe he’s just sleeping.”

“Only one way to find out. Masterson, you coming with or do you need more time in the ‘calm down corner?’”

“You keep running your mouth, and you’ll be in the calm down corner,” he muttered before climbing out.

“I’m guessing he means dead.”

Dakota’s lips pinched together in response.

“Alright, great. You two stay here. Maybe listen to the radio… see if Celia’s found anything…find a way to stop the Sons. You know, whatever feels right.”

Zane was waiting by the back gate with his gun drawn when I approached. “You thinking it’s just like Rangel?” he asked, acting as though he hadn’t just been on the verge of ending my life.

I nodded and whispered, “Probably, because why should we be given even one goddamn break?”

Zane picked the lock on the back door, neither of us bothering with gloves or making any attempt to conceal our identities. We both knew what lay on the other side of the door.

The house was eerily quiet, minus the sound of steady dripping from a faucet in the kitchen. For a fucking giant, Zane crept silently down the hall, keeping his gun up as if expecting an ambush at any second.

Instead of taking the lead, he paused outside the first closed door and looked to me. I nodded, and we entered an empty room.

Empty as in nothing but the carpet and bare walls.

We moved to the next and found the same. By the time we reached the master suite, I knew this was nothing like Rangel.

Rogers had known he was a dead man when the surveillance cameras caught him and had packed up shop to run.

Zane checked the master bathroom before re-entering the deserted bedroom with a shake of his head. “Does he really think he can outrun them?”

I paused when it hit me and began moving back down the hall. “But there was still furniture in the living room, right?”

“Christ,” Zane croaked when he flipped on the light.

Rogers’ wife sat in what looked like a dining room chair on the other side of their large entertainment center, her chin resting against her chest as if she was napping.

The position had kept her hidden from view of anyone coming in through the back door. Even without a drop of blood anywhere on her, it was obvious she was dead.

“Drugs?”

It was the only thing that would explain the lack of blood. The Sons hadn’t bothered giving Rangel’s wife a quick death, so why change things now?

I looked at the gag in her mouth and back to Zane, struck again by the sound of a dripping faucet coming from the kitchen.

“The gag,” I said at the same time he concluded, “Rogers is still here.”

We lifted our weapons and moved into the kitchen. The Sons might’ve given the Mrs a speedy trip to the underworld, but they hadn’t extended the same courtesy to him.

“Oh fuck,” Zane murmured, bringing his fist up to his mouth.

It looked like something out of a slaughterhouse.

My former sergeant had been stripped of his clothes and hung by his belt from the wrought iron pot rack bolted into the ceiling.

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