For every fucked-up thing Ranger wouldn’t tell me.
For coming at Lockenow.
But we had to find him first, and we had no clue where to start. Only Ranger’s vague memories and gut instinct, which led us on a merry dance for the rest of the night.
Asoggydance. We were drowned rats by the time we came up on a locked-down industrial building. Different to the dilapidated farm structures we’d been raiding up until this point, it set my senses on high alert the moment I eased my hog to a stop half a mile out.
I sent a location pin to the burner Alexei was monitoring and dismounted, rolling my precious V-Rod into a bush.
Ranger and Saint did the same and we regrouped beneath the wet night sky. Saint had dirt on his face. No idea why.
I turned to Ranger. “What is this place?”
He shot me an uneasy glance. “A gift.”
“Between who?”
“Sambini and Crow. Lorenzo gave it to Frank in return for a safe place to store product. Frank gave it to Drummer and Priest.”
“For what?”
“To store other things.”
“Like what?” I bit out, shaking off Saint’s calming hand on my arm.
Ranger scrubbed a hand over his shorter hair, then dragged it down his face, jaw working back and forth, stress building with every second we stood here. “The other gifts that came from working with the Sambinis. The same shit they dumped in your warehouse.”
“Girls?” The word was rough in Saint’s throat.
Ranger swallowed. “Prisoners too. Hostages, whatever. They used to joke about Priest’s funhouse. I didn’t know what it was until me and Folk pulled Locke out of here one night.”
“When?”
“What?”
“One nightwhen?”
We lived through an anguished pause before Ranger forced himself to answer. “A few weeks before your warehouse went up. Rocco was missing and Folk was finding it harder to hide how he felt about it. I went to the council—to Butch and McGif—and asked the question. They knew I gave a fuck about Locke, so they told Priest to take it out on him. Said they’d rape Willow if he fought them. Shit, they made me and Folk watch before they took him away. A week later, we found him here fucked up worse than I’d ever seen. If Folk hadn’t been with me... I don’t think he’d have made it.”
Vomit surged up my throat before I knew what was happening.
I lurched away and puked behind a tree, my body rejecting the devastating images my brain conjured up as if it was a weapon of the fucking state.
Violence.
Pain.
Scars.
So many fucking scars.
The sunny morning I’d ridden out alone to round up any stray Crows who wanted a job flashed into my mind. I’d found Locke, with Ranger and Folk. He’d been hurt, and I hadn’t fucking noticed.
My stomach heaved again, wrenching so hard I doubled over, lungs screaming, throat burning. If I’d still had my appendix, it would’ve exploded and seeped out of my goddamn ears.
It took long minutes for my body to settle down, as if the brutal reality of what happened to Locke before I’d ever known him had poisoned my fucking soul.
Breathing hard, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and straightened up, tilting my face into the rain, searching for solace in stars I couldn’t see. I sensed Saint move closer. Smelt the cigarette Ranger lit. But my brothers felt far away.
