“I… Well…”
“What’s going on, Pres?” Quake asks when he joins me, the other two prospects with him.
I shove Junior at Quake. “Take this piece of shit to the chambers and kill him.”
“What’s the crime?” my sergeant-at-arms asks, not that it matters.
“He let Mellie walk out of the clubhouse while we’re on lockdown.”
“Oh, shit,” Quake quips. “I’ll be sure to give him the full treatment.”
The stench of urine fills the air, and I glance down at Junior’s crotch. “Goddammit, you pissed yourself. Clean it up,” I demand.
Quake pushes Junior to his knees before kicking him in the back of the head so his face hovers inches above the puddle. “You heard him. Clean that shit up.”
“H-how?”
“You’ve got a tongue,” I say. “Use it.”
Leaving Junior and his mess to Quake, I make my way outside, pulling my cell out of my cut as I go and send a group text.
Me: Riding out in 2
A barrage of replies ping, and I switch apps to pull up the tracking feature I installed on both my and Mellie’s phones. The little red dot that indicates Mellie’s cell isn’t blinking, and I know that means that the device is off. I am able to determine that her last known location is Death’s Door.
Zombie, Trick, Undertaker, Whiz, and Sawbone barrel out the front entrance of the clubhouse, running as if their lives depend on it. To be honest, they do because if I don’t get Mellie back, I won’t be held responsible for who I take out in my grief.
“Where we headed?” Zombie demands.
“Death’s Door,” I reply, straddling my Harley. “Sawbone, drive one of the club vehicles. Not sure if Mellie will need medical attention or not.”
“What the hell?” Undertaker comments. “Why would she need medical attention?”
“Because Junior, who is on his way to Hell as we speak, let her leave while we’re on lockdown. Her phone pinged at Death’s Door, but now it’s either off or dead, and we all know that spells trouble.”
“Better roll out,” Zombie says, climbing on his own bike.
I lead the way to the funeral home, terror riding shotgun.
I’m coming, Mel. I’m coming for you.
As soon as I pull into the parking lot, I know Mellie isn’t here. If she were, I’d feel her presence. I’m as sure of that as I am that my name is Heath Jenkins.
“Lyric!”
I take off running around the building, toward the sound of Undertaker’s shout. “What?” I demand when I reach him.
He points at Rowdy’s headstone and a note that’s resting under a rock on top of it. I chuck the rock aside and read the handwritten message.
If you want her, come and get her. We’ll be waiting.
An address is scrawled on the paper, and I put it in my GPS. “I’ve got her location,” I yell so the guys inside can hear.
We peel out of the lot much like we did at the clubhouse. Following the directions, I lead them to the address near Point Defiance. A small cabin looms in front of me, the lights glowing through the windows as the sun sets in the distance.
“She’s in there?” Zombie asks when we stop.
“She better be,” I bark, not bothering to be quiet. “I go in first. Z, you’ve got my six. Trick, Whiz, and Undertaker, you take the back. Sawbone, make a secondary entry when I call for you. Any questions?”
