Page 130 of Nemesis

“I did.” His voice is clipped. “No one touches you. Let’s go.”

Shit.

Okay, then.

I exchange a look with Saint, whose eyebrows are nearly in his hairline. We follow Kade out and down the street to Gabriel’s car.

He circles to the front and turns away, shooting the glass of the driver’s door. He reaches in and unlocks it, then pops the trunk.

I catch on to his thought fast—that Reese could still be in the trunk.

Dead or alive, I don’t know.

I hurry forward and fling it open the rest of the way, immediately expecting a body.

But the trunk is empty.

“Damn it,” Kade roars. “Where the fuck is he?”

I wish I knew.

“There’s another place.”

We whirl around.

The bartender lingers in the doorway of Madness, his fingers twisting his apron and releasing it, over and over again.

“Another place?” Saint asks. “What are you talking about?”

“Where they meet. Where he feels safe—” He chokes. Blood bubbles out of his mouth, dribbling down his lips.

I start, and Saint moves in front of me. I crane around in time to see him fall forward with a knife protruding out of the back of his throat. One of them inside killed him for talking. What would they have done to us for asking questions?

“We need to get out of here,” Saint says.

“Not without someone to tell us where Reese is.” I squeeze Saint’s arm.

Kade is already nodding his assent, and he moves past me with sure steps. After a long moment, he remerges from the bar dragging an unconscious man behind him. He hauls him over the bartender and to his SUV. Without our help, he pops the trunk and hoists him in.

Saint and I circle around in time to see him taping the guy’s ankles and hands. He places another strip over his mouth.

“Let’s go,” Kade orders.

Holy shit.

Saint and I climb into the car wordlessly, and I can’t help but wonder what the fuck we’re doing.

Besides kidnapping a gang member…

That’s a given.

36KADE

I wipemy hands and emerge from the lower deck of the boat. Flecks of dried blood coat my arms, my shirt, my pants. It’s hidden on my black clothing but stands out like a sunburn on my skin.

Artemis and Saint wait for me at Bobby’s Eats. He’s returned to the marina for the night and seems to have no problem entertaining my guests on his houseboat. They’re seated at the same picnic table Artemis and I sat at the last time—granted, there is only one, but still.

I take a knee out of sight and scoop salt water in my cupped hand, splashing it along my arms. I use the stained cloth to scrub and dry them, satisfied that Bobby won’t ask any questions about the state of my appearance.

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