Page 25 of Fire

Right now, me and my men are all headed to where the Wretched Rebels clubhouse. It will be a long drive, and I hate going, not knowing for sure if Grace is even there. I don’t have much of a choice right now, however. This is the only clue I have. We’re taking the back roads, avoiding camera systems and drawing attention to ourselves. Cops tend to stick to the main roads. The club’s lawyer keeps telling me I need to make sure I always have what he calls plausible deniability. When I get hold of the men who took Grace, I’ll need it because they won’t be breathing when I’m done.

As I round a deep curve in the road, my men following behind me—the echo of pipes roaring around us—I immediately start slowing down. There’s an old, white van parked half on the side of the road and half in. It’s a van that looks just like the one the parking lot camera showed men dragging Grace into. That’s not exactly what catches my attention, though. There are two men lying on the ground in front of the van. I immediately stop, impatiently kicking down the stand and parking my bike. I hop off and walk straight to the men. I stop at the first guy with a bushy beard because I know that motherfucker. He’s the one that handled my woman so roughly. He’s wearing a Wretched Rebels cut. The name patch reads Zero. I was looking forward to killing this dumbass. Someone apparently beat me to it because nowZerohas zero brains because they’re splattered all over the blacktop. My men are joining me. King is coming out of the van, shaking his head no. I frown, but I already knew Grace wasn’t here. Whoever ended these sad fucks has her. My question is who. I don’t see their MC doing this shit. That leads me back to the Bratva.

“Hey Boss,” Grunt calls out. “This sad sack of shit is still breathing.”

I had been crouched over Zero, looking for clues. I immediately stand with Grunt’s words. It shocks the hell outof me, to be honest. It’s not like the Bratva to leave anyone breathing. “Sloppy as fuck,” I mutter, confused. It’s not like professionals to make this big of a mistake. I walk over to the man, who is bleeding from his chest. He’s in pain—that much is evident. He also looks terrified. I crouch down to look at him.

“C-C-Call ambulance,” the man huffs. I want to laugh. I might think about it if he hadn’t put his hands on my woman. Still, even if I called right now, he’d be dead when they got here.

“Tell you what, I’ll call if you tell me where my woman is,” I lie.

“Y-Y-Y-Yo … w-w-w’man?” he mutters, the words slurring. He’s going quick. I need to hurry this along.

“The girl you kidnapped. Who took her?”

“Don-n-n-n’t know. She c-c-called him B-B-Ben,” he says, taking a deep breath and coughing up blood. “Call help,” he says, the panic thick in his voice.

“Nah. You should have never touched Grace. If you weren’t already dying, I’d kill you myself.” I stand back up and look at my men. “We need to head back to the Saints’ clubhouse. I need to make some calls. I know who has her. I just need some help finding him,” I explain. I’m going to have to call in some markers.

It will suck owing those guys, but I’ll do anything for Grace. I just need her back. In the short time that I’ve had with her, she’s become essential to me.

I can’t lose her.I can’t.

18

GRACE

I whimper as I feel a harsh sting against the side of my face. I force my eyes to open just in time to watch Benny slap the side of my face again. His other hand grabs my chin, his fingers pressing painfully into my flesh. I feel woozy. It’s similar to how I felt earlier when I woke up in the van. I can vaguely remember Benny’s henchmen chloroforming me with an old rag before throwing me into a vehicle.

“It's about time you woke up, you conniving bitch,” he hisses at me. A look of pure hate covers his face, chilling me to the bone. I never wanted to see Benny again. I stupidly thought I was protected from his return.I should have known better.

“Benny,” I whisper, my voice weak and hoarse.

He pulls my face toward him, his grip still firm with a bruising force. “Where’s my son?” he growls, twisting my head painfully to the side as he bends down, filling my vision with nothing but him.

“You don’t have a son,” I yell back, ignoring the fear rising inside of me. There’s a very big chance that Benny will kill me, but as long as he doesn’t get his hands on Asher, I will accept my death. My son is all that is important.

“It seems you’ve tried to grow a backbone while I’ve been locked up. Maybe you need a reminder of who owns you, Grace.”

“You’re nothing to me. Just an overgrown bully who gets his rocks off hurting women. You’re getting nowhere near my son!” I yell and despite the pain I feel, I make fists like my instructor has taught me and begin hitting him. My hits are weak because of everything I’ve gone through, but I open my hand and scrap down the side of his face with my nails, feeling satisfaction as I draw blood.

“You fucking cunt,” he screams. He backhands me so hard against the side of my face that I am instantly dazed. I do my best to ignore it, twisting my body so I can yank my head free from his hold. Then, I do something stupid. I spit in Benny’s face. He jerks back. I know he’s shocked because the old me would have never tried to fight back. I’m not the person I used to be. In the few seconds he takes to jump back and try to wipe his face, I grab at Benny’s groin, trying to claw and squeeze anything that might hurt. I know from experience that Benny is always commando. He also wears relaxed fit slacks. That allows me to grab him by the balls—at least I think I have done that. I yank hard and squeeze. Benny lets out a guttural yell and grabs my shoulders, shaking me. I hold on tightly regardless, digging my nails in—refusing to let go. He brings his hand back and slaps me, but I still don’t let go. I start trying to twist more while squeezing harder. His hit is hard, but I’m fueled by adrenaline. I doggedly refuse to let go.

“I hate you!” I scream. “You’re never getting my son!”

“You stupid cunt!” he grabs my hair, forcing my head back. His hand clamps over my mouth as he tries to push me away from him. I sink my teeth into his hand. I’m not very successful, but I think I still manage to cause him pain when he immediately moves his hand. My victory is short-lived, however. I can see his fist draw back, and I know my fighting is coming to an end. Icontract my hand, squeezing as hard as I can as his fist closes in. I shut my eyes tightly, knowing the hit is going to come. I welcome it. I know it will put me out and that’s safer than being alert around Benny. Before he connects, I send up a prayer that no matter what happens, my son is safe and far away from Benny.

I never want this monster near my son …

19

FORD

I sit in my truck in front of the diner Grace works at, getting ready to go inside to pick up her son. I called her boss and explained that her ex is in town and has Grace against her will. I assured him I’m handling it, but I needed to make sure that Asher was safe. It took a lot of work, and finally I had to call in a favor with the local police to visit Joe at his house. He agreed I could have Asher, if andonlyif Asher agreed he wanted to go with me. I’m fairly confident he will, but if he refuses, I’ll just have to put men on Joe’s house and move in for a bit. That’s all I can do. I know without a doubt that Grace’s ex will come after his son. I’m going to protect him, and I will get his mother back.

I’m more than a little frustrated. My entire day after finding the assholes who took Grace has been spent on the phone. First, I called Joe and then my contact on the local police force. Next, I called Vector. I let him know I had found Grace’s whereabouts. I warned him about the two men that had taken her, their names, as well as confirming they were part of the Wretched Rebels. I’m having Grunt follow-up with the Wretched Rebels and making sure they know Grace is off limits. If they are after her, there will be war. It’s up to them how they take that, butit’s not just a threat—it’s a promise.Honestly, I’m still unsure why those two assholes took her. I can’t figure out how Grace’s ex fits into any of this.Were they working for him? That doesn’t seem likely because if they did, I doubt he would have left them dead beside the road. At the very least, he would have taken them somewhere more private. The Bratva has a certain way of dealing with traitors and loose ends. Nothing about this is making sense—which definitely adds to my frustration. Vector once again offered help in getting Grace back and I thanked him but let him know I already had a call into the Levkin brothers and was pretty sure I had it under control. I did agree to call him if Ivan didn’t call me back and agree to help. I like Vector, but I saw the pain in Grace’s eyes when she had to talk to him. I wanted him to know that as much as I appreciated it, I needed to make sure my woman comes first, and their past had hurt her. I didn’t want to take part in reminding her of whatever happened between the two of them. Vector is a good man from all I’ve ever seen, but he hurt Grace that much is clear. Still, his fuck-up is clearly my gain.

Just as I’m about to open the door to the truck Hangman lent me, my cell rings. For a second, it feels like my heart flips hard in my chest. I stare at the caller ID, willing it to be from Grace. The name, however, is Ivan Levkin.

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