"I see that you don't believe me. But once she can see the condition you're in, she'll come running right to me." Shaw handed the photo to the other man. "When she gets here, I'll have all the time in the world to show you exactly who she belongs to before I kill you."
He gritted, locking his jaw, refraining from telling the asshole what he could do with his picture. The first chance he got; he'd choke the air from Shaw's body.
Shaw held out his hand again and stepped forward with a knife. Paco kicked out with his good leg and missed sweeping the man's feet out from under him. Baring his teeth, he lunged off the floor, making it to his feet. Propelled forward, he tackled Shaw, taking him to the ground.
The man beside Paco kicked him in the ribs, sending him rolling. Lights flashed in his blurred vision. He held on to Shaw, refusing to let go.
He would take the motherfucker to hell with him. White blinding pain sliced the side of his neck. He roared, grabbing the man's wrist to stop the blade from going deeper, but hands dragged him backward.
Removed from Shaw's body, Paco fought against the hold. Shaw came forward, punching him before holding the knife to his face. In his rage, Paco couldn't feel the slices made on his face by the knife.
Blinded from sweat, blood, and rage, he lost control of his body as the room disappeared from view.
He couldn't see.
He couldn't hear.
He couldn't move.
He was losing.
Chapter 30Josie
Inside the clubhouse, Josie pressed her back against the wall in the hallway outside the meeting room.
After a sleepless night, she woke to Whip knocking at her door and telling her that Priest wanted to talk with her. She tapped her foot. If he was in a hurry to meet, why force her to stand outside in the hallway for over an hour?
Where was Paco?
Was he inside, too?
She'd studied the motorcycles outside and would swear on her life the fourth bike from the right was his.
She looked out into the main room. There were twenty or so bikers hanging around. No music played, no women hung around, no booze in the hands of the guys. The men ignored her presence and each other.
Unsure if their somber mood meant something was wrong or if it was their normal recovery time after partying through the night, the atmosphere in the clubhouse felt off. Maybe it was her worry that Paco hadn't shown up at her apartment at all throughout the night that set her on edge.
The door opened, and Curley stepped out. "Priest wants to talk to you."
"That's why I'm here." She moved forward.
He blocked her path. "He'll meet you out here."
Her stomach rolled. "Is Paco inside the room?"
He shook his head. Her apprehension escalated. Paco would never miss a meeting. Tarkio was the most important thing to him.
Other members came out, glancing at her, and headed to the main room. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Priest strolled out and motioned for her to go with him. She followed him down the hallway until they were alone.
Before she could ask what was going on, Rick and Jerry joined them, making her more nervous. Their bad mood was contagious.
Priest ran his hand down his beard and said, "Yesterday, Paco went to the reservation and never came back."
Her spine snapped to attention. "His Harley is outside."
Priest dipped his chin. "He took Rick's truck, so nobody would recognize him."
"Why would he go...?" She clamped her mouth shut. He'd gone for her. There was no doubt in her mind that he would do something that dangerous by himself.
How many times had he told her he'd take care of Askook?
"He's told me for weeks he was handling club business." She raised her hand to her shoulder and shook her head in confusion. "That's why he had someone watching the apartment because he was doing things for you."
Please, let there be a mistake. Tell me he's on a run or skipped town. I don't care if he left me. Just let him be somewhere safe.
Her lack of specific information about his whereabouts now seemed irresponsible on her part. She'd trusted him when he kept business away from her. Not believing it was her right to know the details, she allowed him to go on with his lifestyle.
It was better than him running off after Askook and getting killed.
Her chest squeezed the breath out of her.
"We know he went to the reservation." Priest softened his gaze. "We went looking for Rick's truck, intending to find Paco, and couldn't find him or the vehicle. Luckily, we know a patrol officer for Montana State that got called out on a fire this morning and found Rick's vehicle fully inflamed."
"What? He was in the truck?" Her knees gave out, and she caught herself on the wall. "Is he okay? Where is he?"
Priest grabbed her by her upper arms and held her up. "He wasn't in the truck. We suspect that Robert Shaw found him and got rid of the vehicle. We need to figure out a way to get on the reservation and look for him in case—"
"In case he's alive," she said, finishing his sentence.
Her heart splintered into a million pieces. Her worst nightmare unfolded in front of her, and she wanted to deny what Priest was saying. It couldn't be Paco. Not her Paco.
"We don't have a good track record with the Blackfoot people." Rick crossed his arms. "We won't make it far over the border on our motorcycles without tribal police stopping us."
Her heart beat wildly, echoing their words. She tried to make sense of them. Paco wasn't supposed to leave her. He was doing work for the club. He'd come back to her. Probably tonight. That's how they kept their relationship going. Paco would never go to the casino without telling her. He knew what it would do to her.
"Josie?" Priest's mouth tightened. "We can't ride onto the reservation.
She
