Page 42 of Lost King

This here is why I like Ian so much. He is all business. "Yeah, man. Follow me," I lead Ian to the room we hold church. I also had Reid set up all his computer shit in here too. With us being on lockdown and having a full house, this was the only room available. When I open the door to church, I am not at all surprised to see Reid still awake and working. "Reid, this is Ian. He's going to be settin' his equipment up in here alongside you."

"No problem, Prez." Standing from his chair, Reid holds his hand out to Ian. "Nice meetin' ya. How about I help you bring your stuff in and set up."

I follow Ian and Reid out to the parking lot to Ian's truck. I'm alerted to a rumbling sound in the distance. When I look behind me, I notice Logan, Bennett, and Gabriel, step out of the clubhouse. "The cavalry has arrived," I announce.

Pulling his phone from his cut, Reid uses it to punch in the code to the gate opening it. A couple of seconds later five Harleys and a cage roll onto the compound. Leading the way is our Louisiana President Riggs, followed by Kiwi his Road Captain, Fender the SGT. AT ARMS, and two prospects bringing up the rear.

Once Riggs has dismounted his bike, I pull him in for a hug and clap him on the back. "Glad to see ya, brother. I hate it's under these circumstances."

"I always got your back, brother."

"So, what's in the van?" I ask.

"Oh, you know me, Jake. I always bring my own toys to the party," Riggs grins.

"Well, in that case, let's get the motherfuckin' party started."

Slamming the gavel down, it echoes off the walls and brings church to order. "Alright, everybody settle down. For those of you who don't already know him," I say pointing to Ian. "This is Ian. I brought him in on this because he's an expert tracker, so I'm turning the floor over to him." Once I have taken my seat, Ian stands and wastes no time dishing out his plan of action.

"We have approximately ten hours until nightfall. That's when I want every one of you to be ready to fall out. Also, whatever supplies you're going to require will have to be able to fit in these packs," Ian informs holding up a standard military tactical backpack. "So, I suggest you pack smart."

"Why do we need packs?" this coming from Fender.

"Because, I believe those motherfuckers have Quinn underground in the mountains. You'll be searching on foot."

"What makes you think they're holding Quinn underground?" Kiwi cuts in.

"Because I know," Ian replies. "Look," he continues, "this club has torn Polson and every surrounding town apart, and you haven't come up with shit. I've done my research on Polson dating back to the early 1940's. Did you know that during the Cold War some Americans feared the worst and built underground bunkers? They would use them to stockpile supplies."

"Like Doomsday Preppers?" Kiwi asks.

"Yes, exactly like that. The mountains are the perfect place to build these sorts of bunkers. They are nearly impossible to spot among the trees. Hell, you don't even know one may be right under your feet until you come upon the ventilation pipes sticking out of the ground."

"Damn. You do know your shit," Kiwi remarks.

With a brow lift, Ian levels Kiwi with a look that says, 'no shit.' "Now as I was saying, because bunkers like this may be in the mountains the only way you will be able to access is by foot. All you need to be worried about is getting your shit together and be ready to move once I have a location," Ian finishes.

"Okay, brothers. You all know what to do." Standing, I'm about to slam the gavel and dismiss the guys when Blake burst through the door.

"Prez! I have something for you," he says handing over a manila envelope. "I was riding buy the garage, and something on the entrance door caught my attention. This envelope was tapped to it."

Dread settles in my gut. Something tells me this has to do with Quinn. Opening the package, I pull out a cell phone. When I power it on the welcome screen has the message, 'watch me.' Tapping on the video icon I see a single video. I pass the phone to Reid. "Hook this up and play it for everyone."

Taking the cell from my hand, Reid goes about plugging a cord into the phone and then to his computer. A couple of seconds later the video begins to play on the screen mounted on the wall.

"Fuck," Reid mutters when the image of Quinn strapped to a chair as he chokes on water being poured over his face comes into focus. Next comes the taunts of the Satans Reapers President followed by him snubbing his cigar out on Quinn's neck. The whole time my brother staying strong and gritting his teeth through the pain. Even through the torture, Quinn does a little taunting of his own with his smart-ass mouth. But he soon loses the battle of wills as the motherfucker who will quickly die at my hands picks up a pair of pliers, uses them to grip a needle then torches it until it's lit with a fiery, red glow. By this point in the video Logan, Gabriel, and Reid are on their feet, and by the tension radiating off their bodies, they seem to be barely holding on by a thread. Seconds later, the room erupts with the sound of Quinn's blood-curdling roar of pain as the President of the Satans Reapers drives hot needles under the tips of his fingernails.

"The next time you see your boy it will be in a body bag unless you give us what we want," the son of a bitch on camera says right before he injects something into Quinn's arm with a syringe followed by the screen going black. Now the only sound filling the room is heavy breathing. With my hands braced on the edge of the table, I look to my right and stare each one of my men in the eyes. "Get your shit packed and ready. It's time to go huntin'."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Emerson

An hour ago, I watched as ten men walked into the room church is held. Forty minutes after, I watched as Blake tore through the clubhouse carrying an envelope as he made his way behind the same door my eyes have been glued to. Now I'm watching as those same eleven men storm out with the kind of looks on their faces that have me fearing the worst. I want to know what was in that envelope. I want to know what happened.

"Hey, Sweetheart," Vicky greets with a sad tone as she takes a seat next to me on the sofa. Turning my body slightly towards her, I hang my head and shake it back and forth. I'm afraid if I open my mouth words will fail me and I'll break out in sobs. I don't want to do that. I want to show the people around me I am stronger than that.

"Emerson," Vicky whispers cupping my left cheek. When I gain the courage to look up at her, I'm met with the warmest brown eyes and a look of understanding. It's her look which has me losing it all over again. When I do, she pulls me in and hugs me while making a shushing sound in my ear. "Everything is going to be alright, Sweetheart. It's going to be alright," Vicky says comforting me.