Page 100 of Tuck & Roll

“Shit!” Darren couldn’t believe their luck. “Does the car he’s in have a dash cam? Can you check to see if it tells us anything?”

“I’ll see what I can find out and be in touch.” Ben disappeared through the back, leaving the Sons in shock.

“What can we do? I can’t just sit around waiting for the cops to point us in the right direction.” Darren felt like he was going to explode and he needed to get outside before he destroyed the waiting room in the police station.

“Maybe Kylie was able to pull up some information when she was doing property searches,” Dagger suggested.

“Let’s head back to the clubhouse and see what we can find.” Race took Bellamy by the hand and led the way out.

“Shouldn’t someone contact Tuck?” Bellamy suggested.

“She’s right.” Race pulled his phone out and grunted when it went straight to voicemail. “Damn it.”

“I’ll text him.” Jackson shot off a message before helping Calliope into Trick’s SUV.

Darren pulled out his phone and called Tuck’s number. He doubted he’d have any better luck of his friend answering than Race, but he waited as it rang anyway. Voicemail. Damn it. He left a message and got into the Suburban, praying they found something to go on when they hit Kylie’s office.

17

Kylie came to, her eyes fluttering open only to see nothing but blackness all around her. Where was she? Why was it so dark? In the few seconds it took to put together that she was in a moving vehicle, her heart raced wildly in her chest. Then, like a wave crashing on shore, it all rushed back to her. Chief Whitener bringing her to Chet. Chet shooting the chief and leaving him dead on the side of the road then throwing her into the trunk of a car.

Oh God. Where was he taking her? She had to get out of there. She had to get away. But how? Even if she could get out of a moving vehicle, the trunk was locked and she had no way to open it. She thought she remembered reading somewhere that if you’re ever kidnapped and thrown into a trunk that you should knock out the taillight and stick your hand outside so someone could see it and call the police. What could she break the light with? She felt around the interior of the trunk and found nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The car slowed and made a left turn before coming to a stop. Shit! She was out of time. The trunk popped open and all she could see was Chet sneering down at her. He grabbed her by the hair and roughly hauled her out. Her hands flew to the top of her head, trying to pry her hair loose from his tight grip. She kicked him once before he shook her like a rag doll to make her stop. He shoved a gun to her stomach and threatened to shoot her if she didn’t settle down.

As Chet dragged her along, she was frantically looking around trying to figure out where he’d taken her. It wasn’t easy with her view being so limited due to the tight grip he had on her hair. It was dark outside the older two-story house and the streetlight was too far away to be of any use. She stumbled up the stairs next to him and waited for him to open the door. There was a house number next to the mailbox mounted on the wall. Were they still in town? Were there neighbors she could run to for help if she could get away?

Flinging the door open, he hauled her into the house still gripping her hair.

“’Bout time. What took you so long?” she heard shouted at them as they bypassed the living room and went directly to the kitchen. Chet tossed her at a chair and watched, amused, as she struggled to keep her seat as it rocked back and forth.

“The fucking chief grew a conscious when he came to drop her off. He wanted to take her back to town and let her go.” Chet’s hands settled on his narrow waist, his mouth tipped into a deep frown.

“Is this her? The one that’s been causing all the trouble?” Another man’s voice came from behind her. There were three of them? Damn it. How was she supposed to get away if there were three of them?

“Yeah, Red. This is the bitch that stole our money.” Chet jerked his head in her direction.

The man was a little under six feet tall and had bright red, short cropped hair and a red scruffy beard. All Kylie could think was how original was his road name?

“She’s kinda hot,” the man who’d followed them in from the living room commented. All three men stood staring at her like she was some exotic bug they’d never seen before. “Maybe we can have a little fun with her before we have to get rid of her.”

“Yeah,” Red snapped his fingers. “Make one of those movies you like to make at Bottoms Up. With her looks we’d be sure to make a killing off her movie.”

Kylie swallowed hard at the idea of starring in one of Chet’s movies. She’d found his movies on his computer and she’d gotten sick when he had sex with one woman and pretended it was her.

“No one’s having any fun with her until she gets our money back, M.D.”

Kylie had watched her share of television over the years and in every instance that the bad guys allowed the captive to know their plans, see their faces or hear their names, the captive didn’t make it out alive. Shit.

If M.D. wasn’t as crazy as the other two and she’d seen him on the street, she might have thought he was cute. He had midnight colored hair that hung a little long on the front that he swept to the side. His eyes were the color of a fine whisky and his smile was right off a Hollywood poster.

He sauntered over to where Kylie was sitting and picked up a strand of her hair. “Soft.” He leaned down and sniffed her hair and then her neck. She shied away from him and communicated with her eyes that she didn’t appreciate him being in her space. “Smells good, too.” He straightened and went to the refrigerator to get a beer. He twisted the top off his bottle and flipped it into the sink. “Wonder if the bottom matches the top?”

What? Then it dawned on her what he was referring to. He wanted to know if her pubic hair was the same color as her hair on her head. Ewww.

Red snickered at her look of disgust. “You know why he’s called M.D.?”

“No and I don’t care.”

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