PROLOGUE
WRECKER
“Where the hell are ya, Cap?”
I hung up my cell phone for the third time and tossed it onto the counter in front of me. I felt a presence over my shoulder before a leather-gloved hand reached into my vision.
“It’s not gonna work, Ghost. We need to get out there and look for him.”
The man grumbled behind me. “Let’s try this.”
I picked up my head and gazed around Ghost’s bar. Patrons had left for the church meeting, which was unusual, given the fact that we always had our church meetings at the compound. Especially when they were emergent ones, like the one Cap specified. So, why Cap wanted to do it here, in Ghost’s bar, was beyond us.
Something was wrong.
“Goddamn it,” Ghost muttered as he tossed my burner back onto the countertop.
“Told you,” I said as I swiped it up and pocketed it.
“When was the last time you heard from him, Wrecker?” Doc asked.
I just shrugged and looked around at the crew. “When he called church. Like the rest of us. We all got that mass text, right?”
The sea of heads in leather jackets bobbed up and down. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I tried to rack my brain for any reason why Cap would be late for his own emergency church meeting. But, the truth of the matter was, he wouldn’t.
“Ranger,” I said.
“Already on it,” he said as I heard clacking coming from one of the booths.
“I’ll go hover,” Ghost grumbled in that mask of his as he slipped behind me. I knew why he wore it, but fuck it made it hard to read him sometimes.
“And all of you got the text that this was urgent?” I asked as I scanned the crowd of my club.
The Iron Battalion MC.
All of us, veterans. Looking for another purpose.
And again, they all nodded their heads.
“The fuck?” Ghost grumbled.
“Hey, if you’re gonna hover, shut up,” Ranger said.
“Should we backtrace his movements?” Doc asked.
“Gotta know what they're first, give me a second to get cameras pulled up,” Ranger said.
“Can everyone check again?” I asked as I turned back to the crew. “Everyone got the same wording?”
They all pulled out their phones and handed them over, so one by one, since I was the second in command for the crew, I took a look at them. And sure enough, the wording in every single text was the same.
Cap Prez, 9:42 P. M: 911. Church service. B-town. 8:30, mark.
An emergency church meeting at the bar in town at the next 8:30 mark, which was at that moment.
Fucking hell, this was bad.
“We should figure out if the locals saw anything earlier this morning,” Brutus said, his voice looming from the dark corner he always perched in.
