I turn my head toward him and give him a grunt.
“Take a walk!” he tells me. “Ink and Gears, go with him. I don’t want him going anywhere.”
I turn and make my way toward the front door, Ink and Gears following me. I take a big breath in and touch the handle, but stop when Phantom yells.
“I found her location!”
“Where is she?” I ask.
“At an abandoned warehouse on the highway. Wait, it’s the warehouse we always drive by.”
I nod and race out of the front door. I know exactly where I am going.
“Bear! Wait. We need a plan,” Pres calls. “You can’t just go in guns blazing. That’s how you get yourself killed.”
I stop in my tracks and look over at Pres. I hate when he is right.
“What is the security like around the building? Can you see how many people are there?” I ask Phantom.
“There only seem to be about a dozen people inside the building. One posted outside the door, but nothing else,” he says.
I nod. That doesn’t seem too bad. I grab my gun from under my shirt and check how many bullets I have left. My brothers all do the same with their guns. Some even pull out guns from under the table or behind the bar.
“Any upstairs or is it one floor?” I ask.
“It’s just one floor, and there is only one exit and entrance,” Phantom says.
“So then let’s get going. From what I’m looking at, there are windows that we can plant people at,” Pres says.
“Sounds good,” several people say.
“Then we ride!” Pres yells, walking out the front door.
Everyone follows Pres, walking toward their bike. We all hop on and ride out of the compound. Everyone stares at us as we make our way through town and onto the highway. The closer we get to the warehouse, the angrier I get.
We park our bikes a little distance away from the warehouse and storm toward the building. The closer we get to the building, the more we can see. There isn’t a guard outside the front door.
“You ready?” Pres asks.
“Yeah,” everyone says.
Pres makes his way toward the building entrance. I stand on the opposite side of him, and everyone follows behind us. Pres looks right at me and gives me a nod. I place my hand on the doorknob. I twist the handle and quietly push the door open.
19
BROOKE
“We are going to play a little game,” Jared says, running his hand over the baseball bat.
I wince when I think about everything that he could do with that. The number of bones he could break with a single swing.
“I am going to ask you some questions, and if you don’t answer, then I will hit you with this bat or cut you with this knife,” he says, holding a knife.
When I woke up, he started torturing me again. He didn’t even want any answers; he just wanted to have his fun and beat me. He has cut me and bruised me so many times that I have lost count.
“Since you are hanging around the Hell’s Reapers Club, I want some information about them,” he says. “You want to know why?”
I stay silent, with my head hung. He keeps taunting me with the bat. He swings it at me, but never hits me. My body is bracing for impact, but it never comes.
