Why was Heath dead? Who killed him, and why had they taken Emmett? Because he was a witness? Something about that didn’t sit right with him.
“Maddox called. Our cult savior guy claims they had nothing to do with the attacks on Emmett. Maddox said he was appalled at the accusation,” Talon said.
“So, someone else has been trying to get to Em?” Kian asked, a snarl in his voice. “This was a great opportunity for them, wasn’t it?”
“We’re gonna get him back,” Emma said, crossing her arms and glaring at Kian, who shook his head and wandered off with his hands tugging on his hair.
“How?”
They had nothing. No clues. No way to track him.
“Perhaps I can help with that.”
Dante Serrano stepped into the room wearing a dark gray suit and looking as unbothered as ever. What the fuck was he doing here?
Kian pulled his gun and aimed it right at Dante’s face, snarling at him, “What the hell did you do?”
“This isn’t about me,” Dante said, that steely voice of his not wavering despite staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
“Give me one fucking reason.”
Shit. Kian didn’t know about Dante’s involvement in saving his own ass a few weeks ago, courtesy of Dante asking them not to tell Kian.He’d come through for them then, and if Dante had even the slightest clue where Emmett was, he needed Kian to stop pointing his gun at the man’s face.
“Stand down,” Kaz snapped at Kian, appearing behind Dante.
Dante’s jaw clenched ever so slightly, and then he said, “I know where they’re taking him.”
“And how the fuck do you know that?” Kian asked, keeping his gun on Dante despite Kaz’s glare.
“I’ve been watching them,” Dante said, holding up a hand before Kian could open his mouth. “And, no, I wasn’t aware that they were coming here to take Emmett. I didn’t know he was here at all until my guy called fifteen minutes ago.”
Kian’s hands wavered, and Wilder stepped up next to him, pushing his gun down until it was pointed at the floor.
“Fuck,” Kian muttered under his breath, meeting Wilder’s gaze for a fleeting second before he holstered his gun.
Wilder turned to Dante. “Take us.”
“Someone needs to stay behind and clean this place for DNA and fingerprints. Unless you want to go down for this asshole’s murder?” Dante arched a brow at Kaz, then turned his gaze back on Kian. “You won’t mind doing it, will you?
“Fuck you. I’m not staying behind. That’s my brother out there.”
Dante’s slight flinch didn’t sit right with him, but his head was too fuzzy to work out why.
“I’ll stay,” Emma said, golden eyes wavering. She met Wilder’s gaze. “Bring him home.”
He gave a sharp nod. He intended to do just that. No matter what it took.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Emmett
HE WAS surrounded by five or six men. All of them wore black, much like the guys who’d kidnapped him had. The first ones. These kidnappers didn’t seem particularly interested in his well-being, happy to push him around. He was pretty sure he had handprint-sized bruises on both arms and a scraped knee. He didn’t like that none of them wore masks. If they didn’t care about anyone seeing their faces… it didn’t bode well for him. Not at all.
He barely recalled being shoved into the back seat of a car, the drive either short or he’d blacked out most of it. They’d dropped him in a chair, two of the men standing watch next to him, while the rest conversed at the other end of the room, which he could only describe as an old bar that had been shut down and gutted. There was a scratched-up wooden bar along the wall to his left, a door next to it with a barely visible ‘employees’ sign on it. There were old picture frames with faded images hanging on the wall behind the bar, but aside from the one table and a few chairs, the room was empty.
He scratched at his wrist for the tenth time, the rope around them itchy as hell. He shifted, squeezing his eyes closed when he felt his shirt rubbing against his skin. It was as if his body was in overload. Every small thing was too much. He hated every second of it. Hated the bright light shining in his face. Hated the way his pulse jumped every time someone moved an inch.
He tried to control his breathing, but nothing seemed to help, so he ended up looking at the men who were still talking, trying to read their lips. He only caught a few words, and considering he was very likely wrong about them, he didn’t put much stock in them. He still decided to commit them to memory. Just in case.
