Page 13 of Coveted By Cupid

“I’ll let Jameson know we’re good to go. Keep the National Chapter in the loop.”

I’m a moment away from disconnecting the chat—eager to track down Vanessa—when Rock hits me with some unpleasant news.

“Have you heard about the latest abducted students from CSU?”

I freeze, already hating the direction this conversation is taking. “Are you telling me the Black Market Railroad is pinching women thirty minutes from my club?”

The Black Market Railroad is a sex trafficking ring established by the Russians. More than once, these fuckers have screwed with our MC, taking women that don’t belong to them and doing the unthinkable. It’s not something Royal Bastards tolerate—ever.

“Considering that local mercenary MC in Fort Collins—what are they called again?”

“Mercy Ravens,” I answer, grinding my molars as I remember my first encounter with the bikers.

“That’s right,” Rock says, snapping his fingers as he recalls the MC. “They cleared out the Irish Flesh Trade back in November, but it looks like someone moved into the territory to pick up where the Irish left off. The Russians have been branching out west—the chance it’s them isn’t farfetched.”

Fucking great. I run a hand down my face in frustration. “How many women were taken?”

“Seven.”

I baulk. “The hell?! Seven?”

“Yup. Three were grabbed on their way home from night classes, two went missing along a hiking trail near the campus, and the other two were nabbed after walking home from a bar near Plum Street. All separate abductions occurring within weeks of each other.”

My nostrils flare with annoyance. “The Russians have a lot of damn nerve coming around us.”

“Agreed. Keep your ear to the ground. See if you can find out anything about their whereabouts. If you catch wind of where they’re stationed, you can call us in for backup. We’d love to help clean up.”

“Noted. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Sounds good, brother. Maybe keep a closer eye on this woman you’re keen on, at least until we find out who is behind these abductions.”

“You read my mind.”

After leaving the meeting, I sit back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Goddamn traffickers,” Oaks grumbles, plopping into the chair across from me. “You want me to put out feelers, see what people are saying on the streets? Maybe Kenny has some insight.”

Kenny is the local opioid dealer down on 4th Street, used to dealing with some of the shadier characters in Northern Colorado. He’s a weasel, but he’s full of valuable intel.

“He’s definitely someone worth asking,” I say, straightening in my seat and reaching for my cell on my desk. “Ask him what he knows. If he says he’s heard nothing, ask him to ask around.”

“On it. What are you going to do?”

“Vanessa—the woman I was chasing—she got off in Fort Collins and was heading toward CSU.”

Oaks’ eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Crap. Do you think she’s a college student or just lives near the university?”

“No clue. But I’m going to ask Cole down at the station to give me intel on the abductions and on Vanessa.” I tap my head. “I’ve got her registration plate memorized.”

“Smart,” Oaks says, standing from his seat and heading for the door. “I’m going to hit the streets with a few prospects, see what we can find out.”

As soon as Oaks leaves my office, I’m dialing Cole. He answers on the first ring.

“What do you want?” he clips on the other end of the line.

I cluck my tongue. “Hello to you too, Cole.”

“Just spit it out. What do you need from me?”