Page 73 of Blue

The two men beside him recoiled.

“What did you give her?” Mooky hollered.

The helplessness of the situation had his knees threatening to give out. He didn’t do helpless. This wasn’t how he functioned. He handled shit. Holt needed to be taken care of. Blue needed to be safe.

The image on the phone jostled, blurring, refocusing, and blurring again.

“It looks like a basement,” Mittens offered.

Mooky squinted.

Okay, dark, disheveled. No windows. Yeah, he could see that as a basement. But that didn’t help them figure out where the fuck Holt had taken Blue. There were thousands of those in the Akron area.

Cursing under his breath, Dash turned and stomped toward his bike.

“You stole someone from me. I’m taking someone from you.” Confirming his identity, Holt sneered into the camera before the screen went blank.

The guttural roar of feral rage exploded from Mooky as he threw his phone. Every muscle in his body tensed as he curled his hands into fists. Turning, he sought anything, anyone, to punch.

VP had a phone to his ear with his back to Mooky. Mittens stood with his head cocked to the side and his arms crossed over his chest.

Not a suitable target.

Mooky had to get this energy coursing through him out. That fucker had hurt his woman. How the fuck would he locate her?

Turning one more time, Mooky’s fist cocked. Once he let it fly, pain vibrated up his forearm as it collided with Blue’s car. The metal buckled beneath his knuckles, denting the passenger door.

Mittens grunted.

Dash trotted over while Mooky shook out his hand. “You better not have busted your hand or your wrist.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I going to find her?” Mooky hollered as he flexed his fingers, trying to work out the throbbing pain.

If he broke his hand, he didn’t know. That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Blue—rescuing her, getting her to safety, and ending the threat.

Holt needed to go to Nástrond.

He was an enforcer for Odin’s Fury Motorcycle Club. He was an outlaw biker. He didn’t do helpless. If there was a problem, he fucking solved it.

“Our friend is on it.” Dash reached for his hand to inspect.

The guy had apparently been a medic in the army at some point in time, so Mooky figured if he’d broken it, the VP would know.

“Sam’s not that high up,” Mooky commented about the club’s friend in the local police.

Dash snorted as he rolled Mooky’s wrist. “He’s been watching for us. Who do you think has been feeding us information?”

“So, how is he going to help now?” Mooky demanded.

VP narrowed his eyes as he tapped Mooky’s flesh. “He knows it’s urgent. He will get us information in like a half hour. Something about tracing an unmarked car or whatever.”

Mooky let out a heavy breath. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he winced when Dash found a soft spot. He couldn’t focus on the pain. He had to get to Blue. Flexing and fisting his free hand, he ground his teeth.

“Don’t think it’s broken. You should be able to ride.”

“But to where?” Mooky snapped.

“Just be prepared. We should have that answer in a few.”

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