“Everything’s cool, right?” he asks again.
“There a reason it shouldn’t be?”
He shakes his head once, then he lifts his chin. “Had a run-in with the Punchers the other day.”
My torso jerks and I turn to him fully before I plant my fists on my hips. “What the fuck? You didn’t call me, Dragon, anyone?” I demand.
He looks down at the ground, kicking at the dirt, but not saying a fucking word. I wait, unwilling to speak first. He nods his head a couple of times as if he’s thinking and having a silent conversation with himself.
Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyes finding mine. “They took my daughter. They said they were going to kill her,” he rasps.
My body freezes. “What did you do for them, Marshall?”
I didn’t even know he had a fucking daughter, and honestly, I’m scared to ask what goddamn age she is, especially since I now know what the Punchers do to their own kids. So, I don’t.
Maybe Jaguar will feel moved to save her too, if his dick wants a piece of her that is. Because as much as he finds their behavior disgusting, he also isn’t in a hurry to save anyone except for the pretty young thing he has a hard-on for.
His gaze shifts to the side, then comes back to meet my own. “It’s not what I did…” His words trail off and my heart starts to slam against my chest.
What the fuck did this motherfucker do? If it’s something as bad as he’s making it out to seem, I’m going to have to end him, then it won’t matter about his kid, because he’ll be dead.
“They want a list of product I send to you, along with shipment dates and times,” he mumbles.
“Because?” I growl, getting more and more pissed off the longer he takes to answer my fucking questions.
He shrugs a shoulder, his gaze lifting to meet mine. He looks terrified, but he also looks resigned. He knows that he fucked up in a huge way and Dragon was right to send me up here. He was fucking right to check him out, whatever his gut feeling was, it was spot fucking on.
“Can’t tell you that. I just know that they’re keeping my daughter until the next shipment.”
“Then you think you’ll get her back. Seriously?”
His eyes widen and he gulps. He doesn’t answer me, but I can see it in his eyes. He knows the fucking truth of it and now not only is his daughter going to be used for whatever the fuck the Punchers plan to use her for, he’s not going to live to see another day as well.
“The shipment goes out tomorrow, let me try to save her,” he pleads.
“At the cost of what? My club, my woman? What’s the goddamn cost, Marshall?” I growl.
He settles me with a glare and then he spits on the ground. “My daughter, my blood. Don’t give a fuck about much else, Hawk. I know you think your club is more important, but nothing trumps her. So fuck you if you think I’m sorry for what I did.”
“Did? I thought you hadn’t done anything yet?”
He lifts a brow, then shifts his gaze away from me. “I sent a shipment early. Went out last night. Should be there any minute.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? What are your goddamn plans, Marshall? To fuck us over, get your kid back, then what? If you think we won’t get retribution for your betrayal, you’ve obviously got the wrong fucking impression of me, of my brothers.”
Before he can say a fucking word, I take my knife from my hip sheath, wrap my free hand around his shoulder, and shove the knife deep into his gut before I twist. Tugging him close to me, I press my lips against the side of his ear.
“I’ll save your daughter from them, but only to turn her into the Beasts’ whore. You are fucking stupid, Marshall. Rot in fucking hell.”
He gasps, a garbled noise coming from him, probably a protest of some kind, but he’s too far fucking gone to actually form the words. Shoving him backward, I watch him fall. His head makes a sick sound against the concrete and I watch a pool of blood form around his body, just as I hear a sharp intake of breath.
Turning around, I jerk my chin toward Gator. “Call your woman, get her safe. There’s going to be trouble and it’s headed their way.”
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I find Dragon’s name and call him. It rings and rings, and rings. He doesn’t pick up. Then, I call Avah. Same thing happens. It rings, and rings, and fucking rings.
I call down to the actual clubhouse landline. Again, no answer. Pinkie always answers that shit, unless she’s choking on someone’s cock.
“Fuck,” I hiss, turning to Gator.
“No answer,” he murmurs. “What the fuck is going on?”
AVAH
I sit out in the sun, in my bikini, sipping on a glass of cold water, my ass in the kiddie pool. Turning to Trista, I can’t help but let out a giggle. I may be a hot mess of burned flesh and bruises, but damn I’m free. This is exactly what I needed today, a day with my girl.
“Maybe you guys can just build a barndominium by us? Coyote and Gisele were here first, then Taz and I built our place. They don’t take long to put up and the inside can be whatever you want it to be,” she explains.
Looking around, I wonder if I could live out here. Wrinkling my nose, I really don’t know if I could. Sure, it would be nice to be neighbors with Trista. And having the clubhouse close enough that I could just do a pop-in would keep Hawk on his toes, but me living out here in the desert and not actually in town… I don’t know.
“It’s not like town is an actual city, Avah. We still have to drive our asses four hours
