Page 114 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“It’s like I’ve been thrown into that same nightmare again. I… I can’t breathe.”

I walk toward the brothers, wanting to give them space.

“What’s the plan?" Crash grits out. “I want my daughter back now.”

Cole checks the 9mm in his shoulder harness, slamming another clip in. “I sent the Dead Souls to do some reconnaissance, since they’re so much closer to the Nevada state line. In the meantime, we head to the Dead Soul’s clubhouse. We can make a game plan there.”

Crash gives him a curt nod.

“Who are we leaving behind to protect the families?” Shane asks.

“The prospects,” Cole replies.

I shift, about to protest, which is not what prospects do, but hell, it’s my girl’s life on the line. I’ll be damned if I’ll stand around the clubhouse. Before I can get the words out, Cole beats me to it.

“Marcus, you come too.”

I meet his gaze and nod. “Thank you.”

Within ten minutes, the brothers are loaded up on their motorcycles. I’m ready to follow in the van Cole told me bring. He didn’t say why. We both know the girls are capable of riding bikes. I know what his order means. It’s in case they’re so injured or traumatized they physically can’t ride. I refuse to let my mind go any farther down that dark path.

***

A few hours later, we roll into the Dead Soul’s clubhouse lot. This ride has never felt so long.

The Dead Souls are already back.

Cole dismounts and approaches Wyatt, their president. “Find anything?”

“Two new girls were taken to the Death Head’s cat house. Sent a brother in on the down low, but he never saw them. He asked about new talent and was told they were training some new recruits, and to try back tomorrow. Then he heard one of the employees tell another to buy some makeup to cover up bruising.”

My jaw clenches. I’m going to rip the throat out of anyone who laid a finger on my Brandy.

Crash is already walking to his bike.

“Whoa, whoa.” Cole grabs him. “We can’t just go in, guns blazing.”

Crash shoves his hands away. “The hell we can’t. They have my daughter. They’re all dead men walking.”

“Look Crash, I get it. But you’re going to get yourself or someone else killed running in there hot. Give me ten minutes to get us all on the same page, and then we roll out.”

Crash stares into Cole’s eyes. “Ten minutes,” he repeats. “Then I’m going to kill that fucking asshole.”

Cole slaps his shoulder. “Deal.”

CHAPTER THIRTY – BULLSEYE

Brandy—

A large Death Head with a hand clamped over my upper arm drags Harley and me in the back door of a building and up a flight of stairs. My arm aches from his grip, but I stumble along without complaint. I know what those get me—a pop to the mouth. From what I can tell, we’re in some kind of brothel. Scantily clad women wander the halls. They barely look at us, and when they do, there’s no curiosity, no sympathy. Their eyes are almost lifeless, resigned to their fate.

Oh, God. Where the hell have these dirty bikers brought us? We pass several open doors, and I see large beds. Moans come from behind the closed ones.

Finally, we reach the end of the hall. The man with the iron grip shoves us, stumbling into a dark room, and the door slams shut behind us.

Light shines in through the window, and I quickly move to it, not sure when the voices on the other side of the door will re-enter. I pull with all my might, but it’s nailed shut. Several vest-clad men stand in the driveway. A line of pine trees blocks the view of the road we came in on, but we seem to be miles from civilization with only a house or two in the distance. Even if the men down below leave, I don’t know if we can break the window, jump down from the second floor without getting hurt, and then make it to one of those houses. And who’s to say they don’t belong to someone in the club or are friendly to the club in some way.

Hope dims inside me, but I know I have to be strong for Harley. I have to believe Marcus and her father and the club will find us somehow. They’ll come for us. I have to hang on to that belief.

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