Page 137 of The Echo of Violence

“I don’t know, but my gut tells me we need to find Mercy and Jinx.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Jinx

Moving through the room, I scan for Mercy. Not seeing her, I head outside and find her car blocked in by a few bikes. I glance around, spotting her climbing into my SUV. I check my pockets and pull out my keys, only to realize they’re for my bike.

“That little thief,” I curse, heading for my bike as she reverses and swings the car around.

The gates are open, thanks to the visitors tonight, and all the prospects are working the bar except for Peep, who barely glances up when Mercy pulls out.

I shove my helmet on and start the engine, hurrying to catch up to the pissed-off woman before I lose her. If she sees me in the rearview mirror, she doesn’t pull over. To be fair, she might not realize it’s me. If she thinks I’m one of her men, she’ll keep driving all damn night.

I can’t believe Scope removed her IUD. Yeah, Mercy might be happy about the baby now, but that could have turned out very differently. The stupid man took her choices away from her. I, for one, will happily hold him down while she punches him in the junk, president or not.

The farther from the club we get, the more I question what her plan is. I had half expected her to grab a room for the night and order in ice cream, but she’s passed plenty of hotels already. It’s getting dark out, and there aren’t many streetlights this far from town. Maybe that’s why it takes a second for my brain to register what I’m seeing.

A shadow moving in the back of the car.

I curse, swerving when I realize it’s a fucking person, sitting up like an extra from some B-rate slasher flick. I lay my hand on the horn and start flashing my lights, but it’s too late. Whoever it is grabs Mercy’s hair and wrenches her neck back hard. The car swerves before righting itself, then picks up speed.

I search my pocket for my phone, all while keeping my eyes on the car that’s going faster and faster. I worry about the bend coming up, but the car slows down to take it.

I blow out a breath as I follow behind, picking up speed, unwilling to risk this asshole getting away with Mercy. I can’t find my phone anywhere and think back to when I last had it, realizing that I must have left it on the dresser when Knight and I had sex earlier.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I’ve got my gun, but as much as I wish I could just take out the tires, I can’t. Not without risking Mercy and the baby. I’m so focused on the car that it takes me a second to recognize where we are.

This motherfucker has brought us to the women’s center.

The car slows, but I don’t. I’m right behind them when the car stops with the engine still running. I watch helplessly as the asshole punches Mercy repeatedly in the head. I pull my gun and fire, remembering belatedly that I have bulletproof glass. The asshole ducks before crawling through to the front.

I climb off my bike, my gun on my target, as he pushes open Mercy’s door and shoves her out. Her unconscious body hits the ground like a bag of rocks. Before I can run to her, the sound of the car revving has my head snapping up. I don’t have time to move before the car reverses into me, knocking me flying. My head hits the ground with a sickening thud that makes my vision blur and vomit rush up my throat. I try to lift my hand to fire my gun, but the darkness drags me under.

When I wake up, I feel like I’ve been run over by a car.

Oh, wait.

My eyes snap open, and I take in my surroundings, ignoring the blistering headache. “The basement,” I whisper, looking around. And there, zip-tied to one of the pipes beside the freezer, is Mercy. Her head is rolled forward, her chin pressing against her chest. Her legs are cable-tied together too. Whoever took us could have killed us already, but they didn’t. Why?

“Mercy?”

She doesn’t answer. My hands are free, so I push down to ease myself up when I see the state of my mangled prosthetics. That’s why he didn’t bother restraining me. I can’t run away. I check my pockets and holster. Of course, my gun is gone, and so is the knife in my boot. Surprisingly, they left my bulletproof vest on, but it won’t do me much good against a bullet to the brain.

The door to the basement opens with a creak before heavy footsteps walk down. When the person comes into view, I have to wonder if the blow to the head did more damage than I realized.

“Hello again, Ophelia.”

“Rusty?”

I turn and puke, the shock of the past staring me in the face and the blow to the head taking its toll.

“You’re dead,” I whisper.

“Funny. I thought the same thing about you, so you can imagine my surprise when I found out you were alive and well.”

“Wait… oh, please, no.”

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