My hand shook as I pulled out my phone.
As soon as I got connected to the MC all I heard was Coletrane shouting down the line with the usual rowdy ruckus on a typical Friday afternoon in the background.
“Get me Boomer.”
“Hang on a sec. That you, Handsome? Can’t hear jackshit in here. Tail’s gettin’ ready to—”
“Get me Boomer motherfucking NOW!”
“Yeah, yeah, man. Gimme a sec.” He must’ve muffled the receiver against his shoulder, but I still heard him bellowing for Boomer.
The loud stomp of big boots on the floor was unmistakable, though. And I needed Boomer to be unshakeable because I was ready to retch again.
“What up?” Boom came on the line.
“He took Shy.” I could barely bite the words out.
My jaw had clenched so hard I probably needed new dental work.
And that was what Diablo was gonna need when I was done with him. Unless I just ripped his jaw from his skull so he had no fucking dental records from which to identify his body.
“He? Who? What the hell’s going on, Handsome.” Boomer’s voice lowered like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal.
But this animal wasn’t frightened. This animal was about to go total wild.
“Diablo! Shit. Just listen. Don’t ask.” I slammed my brain bucket on my head and straddled my bike. “Bad fuck from when I was doing the street racing, okay? When Ashe arrested me those times. He’s been trying to bribe me. I didn’t pay up. I thought I had more time!” I gripped one handlebar, crushing my eyes closed, squeezing the words out. “He knows Shy is money He fucking took her.”
“CUT THAT FUCKING MUSIC PRONTO,” Boomer shouted to whoever was in charge of tunes at the bar. “And all but officers get the fuck out. Now.”
Tears started burning the backs of my eyelids.
“Get your ass here, Handsome.” His voice roughened even more. “You okay to ride? You been hurt?”
“Not hurt. Wouldn’t care if it was me anyway. But Shy . . .” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“How far away are you?”
“Be there in ten.”
“We’ll be waiting. And Handsome?”
“Yeah.” I swiped beneath my nose.
“Don’t even think about doing anything on your own.”
“Roger that.”
Pocketing my phone, I started my bike.
Shredding pavement on the way to the MC, I tried not to think about all the fucked up ways Diablo could harm Shy. He had a disturbingly creative side when it came to getting what he wanted. Add in the fact Shy was now hobbled and had recently recovered from an infection . . .
I made it to Retribution in record time, throwing off my helmet before I stormed inside, nearly busting the door off its hinges.
The place had been emptied of the usual hangers-on and social members.
Tail grabbed me by the shoulders as soon as I entered. “Is Shiloh okay?”
“I don’t fucking know. That’s the whole goddamn point!” I snarled, shaking out of his hold.
Yeah, the dudes were all here to help me, but my rage was off the fucking hook. And it had only been twenty minutes.
“Do you know where this Diablo shithead’s got her?” Boomer stepped in front of me.
“No.”
Tucker clapped me on the shoulder. “We’ll get her back. Just like Doc Ronnie.”
I had to blink hard when my eyes started stinging.
Maybe I needed a different sort of sting.
“Gimme a drink,” I ordered to whoever was closest to the bar.
Cole delivered my whiskey straight up, no rocks.
“He’s not an officer.” I narrowed my eyes at the tatted-up Retribution dude before downing my shot.
“I’m here for you, brother.” He refilled my glass with the bottle in his hand. “Just like I was for Brodie with Ashe.”
I looked around at those gathered: Tucker, Boomer, Cole, and Tail. All good men, and I hated getting them mixed up in this shit.
Looked like I didn’t have any other choice.
“Do you want me to reach out to Hunter and the LEOs?” Boomer asked.
“No.” All due respect to Hunter—he’d done Bo a solid in Jacksonville—but this was his backyard, and I didn’t want him getting dirty for me.
And shit was gonna get dirty once I got my hands on Diablo.
Dirt nap dirty.
“We got enough muscle here, you think? Or should I call in Bo and some of the others?” Tucker came forward.
“Nobody else needs to deal with my shit.”
“It’s about Shiloh, Handsome.”
“I know that, goddammit, but it’s my friggin’ fault.” Too keyed up to sit down, I paced around the barroom.
“Start from the beginning.” Boomer folded his arms across his chest.
“The beginning? Like way fucking back when? Can’t we just do the CliffsNotes version?” I sank my second and final drink, backhanding across my mouth.
“If this asshole is from your past, then yeah, the beginning.” Taking up where Boomer left off, Tucker tweaked one side of his long mustache.