“Oh God, Mason!” I hear Marley’s voice in the bedroom.
Spinning on my heel, I walk out of the bathroom and see a piece of paper in Marley’s hand.
Meet me at the end of the driveway in thirty minutes or we will burn the house and take the little girl in your place.
“Where did you find this?” My eyes snap up to Marley.
She points to the bed and shakes her head, “It was on the bed. Mason, do you think they have her? Mason, this could mean…” Panic is laced in her words as her voice gets more strained with each word.
“I know Marley, don’t say it.” I’m snapping at her, and I immediately feel guilty. If there is anyone in the world who might understand how Sloane feels, it’s Marley. After that stupid fuck raped her, she was never the same, the cocksure attitude we shared was gone, replaced by the quiet, reserved woman that doesn’t like to leave the house.
Her teeth clack together when she snaps her jaw shut and she shrinks back, taking a step away as her gaze falls to the bed.
I grab the back of her neck and pull her back to me into a hug, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She leans into me and her hands go to my back, “To be honest, I’m a little fucking scared right now.”
Her arms squeeze my torso, and she nods her head against my chest, “You’ll find her, I know you will.”
***
Jax’s fist connects with the guy’s face with a sickening crunch again. I’ve been pacing the barn floor for hours as Jax and Callum question the guy sans trigger finger. Jax is our info specialist, nine times out of ten he gets the info we need. By the smirk on his face, anyone can see he enjoys it.
My mind is spinning and about to cross into crazy as I think about Sloane out there with those mother fuckers and what they could have already done to her. What if she is pregnant? Will a baby survive what she might go through?
My baby.
Just a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t even consider a relationship with a woman and now it’s quite possible I might be a father. Aside from wondering if I could ever be a good father, the thought doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.
My heart squeezes at the thought of what they could be going through right now and the anger threatens to overtake me again.
“Where did they take her?” Callum asks for the two dozenth time, but the guy wants to be a hero.
Spits is at the house with Dad, Gray, and Tucker, and we heard from the other guys on the team that they will be here in the morning. As soon as we get the info we need from this fucker, we’ll be organizing a party to go get Sloane.
And make them pay.
The barn door opens and draws our attention, I see my dad walk through holding one of the branding irons we use for the horses in his leather-gloved hand. In his other is a galvanized bucket. Everyone stops what they’re doing and watches as he walks over to the guy tied to the metal practice horse in the middle of the barn floor and sets down the bucket.
Without saying a word, he pulls the lighter fluid from the bucket and coats the charcoals and wood pieces inside, pulls a box of matches from his coat, and strikes one. The look my dad gives the guy as he drops the match is a look I have only seen a few times in my life.
He drops the branding iron into the flames in the bucket.
The orange light from the fire casts an eerie glow over the metal of the practice horse and Dad watches the guy, his gloved hands hanging at his sides. His eyes move over the bloody mess that refuses to talk and takes a deep breath.
His deep gravelly voice always intimidated me when I was a kid, and I wonder if it will have the same effect on this guy, “Where’d they take the girl?”
The guy spits a wad of blood at my dad who watches it land on the floor in front of his boot without moving a muscle.
He lifts his head and looks unimpressed, “I never served in the armed forces, so I don’t know all the stuff these boys do,” he lifts his finger and points at the three of us, “But I’ll tell you what I do know: I can wrangle a cow to the ground if it needs to be, I can break a stubborn horse who keeps trying to buck me off for days, I can field dress a deer,bore, or cow with an accuracy that makes sure no meat or skin is wasted, I can shoot my favorite horse in the head because he’s broken his leg and is suffering.
He reaches down and moves the branding iron around in the fire, lifts it in front of him to see if it’s glowing yet, and sets it back in. “I also know how to brand an animal with the quickest and least amount of pain. I also know what it feels like to be touched by one of these, hurts like hell. Where’s the girl?”
Jax looks in my direction and cocks an amused, but surprised eyebrow, I give a slight shrug and look back at the guy. His tough guy front falters just a bit as he looks at my dad, he doesn’t spit this time, but his lips stay sealed.
Callum leans against the barn wall and tucks his hands under his arms, there is a smile on his face, and he watches with interest.
Dad reaches behind his back and pulls the knife from the sheath he keeps attached to his belt, I’ve never seen him without that knife, and he walks around to the guy’s back. Hooking the blade into the neck of his shirt, he cuts down the back, splitting the shirt in two, “That girl may be carrying my grandchild.” He leans to the side and looks at the side of the guy’s face, “Know what that makes you right now?”
The guy starts breathing harder as he stares at the iron sticking out of the bucket.
