“Russians?” Ranger suggested, his face grim.
Steg shook his head. “Got no beef with us.” His face was hard. “Plus, it’s not their style. Don’t kidnap women and children, they murder them,” he said.
Bull tensed at the thought.
Wire burst into the room, his eyes darting everywhere. Kid was a new patch. Skinny, with a mop of dark hair and a pale as shit face, he wasn’t someone who screamed biker. He was however, a fuckin’ amazing hacker. Spent half his days inside the dark room where the club housed all their camera feeds and computers. Was a wizard with anything to do with IT. Bull wasn’t sure he even slept, with the amount of caffeinated drinks he sucked down.
“What we got?” he barked at him.
“We got a problem,” Wire replied, glancing at Killian.
Though he was a new patch, he knew the rules. Kid soaked up information like a sponge; club rules weren’t any different. Don’t talk club business with anyone who don’t wear a patch.
“He’s good,” Cade finally said.
“Mia and Lexie Spencer don’t exist,” he told the table.
“What the fuck?” Bull half yelled.
Killian tensed beside him.
Wire’s eyes settled on him. “Prior to sixteen years ago, when Mia Spencer began her employment with Steve and Ava Thorndon, there is no record of her anywhere,” he explained, placing some papers on the table. “Like she and Lexie popped out of thin air, didn’t exist before that.”
Bull clenched his fists.
“What does that mean?” Cade asked tightly.
Wire looked at him. “Means Lexie and Mia were running from someone.” He paused. “And whoever it is, they found them.”
I was in a trunk. Well, I was reasonably sure it was a trunk. It was dark and cramped and I was aware of the fact we were moving, considering the painful jabs I got when my body was thrown from side to side. I was unable to catch myself, as my arms were tied behind my back, which meant my face slammed into hard edges when the car turned. The warm trickle that followed the sharp pain on the latest turn had me sure I had ripped open the skin on my head. My thoughts were groggy. Sid had hit me with the butt of his gun moments after Killian had disappeared with my daughter. I had woken up in the trunk. I felt nauseous and my head throbbed. My arms screamed in protest at the angle they were bound and were raw from me struggling to free myself. None of this mattered. My mind was desperately clinging to the vain hope that Killian had gotten away with Lexie. I remember the gunshot. The sound that chilled my veins. The blood blossoming on Killian’s shoulder. The blood he didn’t seem to notice as he dragged Lexie out of the house. To safety. I prayed to safety. But he had a gunshot wound. I was sure Sid would have other men stationed around. I didn’t see how they could have made it. But I prayed they did. I didn’t care what Sid did to me if Lexie was safe. If Killian got her to Zane, then I’d die happy. Zane would protect her. From this monster. From her father.
The car stopped suddenly and my face went flying into the back of the trunk once more, pain exploding in my nose. I knew I was bleeding this time. I also knew if Sid was driving, he did this on purpose. He liked to inflict pain. He got off on it. I managed to scoot myself over and tried to press my nose against my shoulder to staunch the bleeding. Light glared into the darkness as the trunk opened.
“Button, what did you do to yourself?” a concerned voice asked. I blanched at the hands that circled around me, lifting me out of the trunk.
My eyes squinted at the light and I failed to hide my flinch at the familiar face that was gazing down at me with false concern. He looked to his side.
“Jones, don’t just stand there you, stupid fuck. My wife is bleeding—get her something,” he ordered in a cold tone.
He started walking. “Put me down,” I half croaked, needing to get his disgusting hands off me.
Sid ignored me.
“Put me down now,” I repeated, knowing how stupid it was to order him around, but I was afraid I would vomit if I stayed in his arms much longer.
Sid’s face flickered in annoyance, but he quickly masked it. “Don’t be silly, Button. You can’t walk, not after your accident. We need to get you to bed,” he told me insanely, as if I had tripped over a shoelace, not been kidnapped and pistol-whipped by him.
I moved my gaze from his handsome and evil face to inspect where I was. We had moved from a garage into a home. We were walking down a hallway; the artwork on the walls, coupled with the rest of the ostentatious decorating hinted money. No, actually it screamed money. I wouldn’t inspect anything less from Sid. Subtlety and taste were never his strong points.
“Seems you’ve moved up in the world, Sid. Looks like ruining lives is profitable,” I sneered at him.