Page 63 of Hell on Wheels

Spook waved me down as we entered, passing through the gate as chaos greeted us. “I’ve looked everywhere. She’s not here.” He pulled at his dark hair, freaking out. “I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

“Hey, she was at the club. It wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head. “It’s my job to protect the ol’ ladies and club girls.”

Patriot clamped a hand down on his shoulder, giving him a shake. “This isn’t on you, Spook. There are members here. You weren’t the only one who missed her leaving.”

Spook nodded, still torn up about it.

“I don’t blame you, kid. Stay sharp. We don’t know what happened yet.”

“Yes, sir, Maddog.”

All of my enhanced senses were tuned into the clubhouse and the surrounding desert. I picked up Lark’s scent, tracking like a hound when I stomped off, moving toward the empty building on the far end of the lot. Grim said it was their old tool shop, but after they renovated it a few years ago, it sat empty until he could figure out what he wanted to do with the space. I headed there now, noticing the smell of gasoline.

By the time I entered, thick black smoke was beginning to fill the room, clogging my lungs. I coughed, staying clear of the flames that started to climb up the northern wall.

Lark’s scent grew more potent. Afraid she was trapped inside, I rushed through each of the rooms, busting through doors to find her.

“Lark!”

A loud crash above my head alerted me to the fire raging out of control and quickly devouring everything in its path. The ceiling caved in as I darted to the side, smacking into a wall so hot it scorched my jacket within a couple of seconds. My skin burned as I tugged it off, placing it over my head as more debris fell, joining the burning pile of furniture piling around me.

Smoke infiltrated my lungs as I lost my balance, falling onto a desk that broke into sharp pieces as I landed on it. A jagged piece of metal ripped through my side. I felt the warm metallic fluid as it left my body, the blood trickling from the fresh wound and feeding the hungry flames.

With a grunt, I pressed my hand to the wound.

Not that it mattered.

I probably wouldn’t survive this.

Someone set this fire intentionally and waited for me to arrive, timing the destruction and my arrival so they would collide.

Somewhere close, my enemy waited for me to die.

The worst part of it? They had my woman, too.

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