Neither of us say it out loud.
But we both know that if the guy who took her is as unhinged as we think he is, Shelby’s gonna need every ounce of strength she has to survive.
Chapter Three
Rooster
An even larger crowd is clustered around Shelby’s dressing room when Agent Jackson and I return. Yellow crime scene tape has marked off her doorway and a portion of the hallway.
He stops me halfway down the hall. “Listen, I understand what’s going to happen to this guy if you get your hands on him before we—”
“My only concern is getting Shelby back safe.”
“And I’ll help you do that.” His gaze shifts to two new plainclothesmen who reek of FBI, and another wearing a jacket identifying him as ATF. “Try not to make my job harder, and keep me in the loop.”
I don’t know Jackson. Sure as fuck don’t trust him. He doesn’t trust me either. Which is fine. He shouldn’t. But right now, I need his help, so I’ll pretty much say anything to reassure him. “I want her back as soon as possible. That’s all.” I swallow hard. “We both know the longer he has her, the more…” I can’t say the words. We both know the longer he has Shelby, the more likely it is he’ll hurt her, or worse.
Jackson’s lips twist, and he rocks back on his heels for a second. “I have worked a few cases similar to this one. It’s not a guarantee but from the letters, he seems infatuated with her. She hasn’t officially ever ‘rejected’ him, which is usually the trigger for something...violent. So, hold onto that.”
Hold onto what? Hope? Do I look like a kid he can placate with a bedtime story about friendly monsters?
“Where are you staying?” he asks when I don’t respond to his “hang in there” pep talk.
I won’t be able to sleep until I have Shelby back, so where I park my ass tonight is irrelevant. “At the clubhouse. But I might grab a hotel room closer to downtown.”
We exchange information, and I promise to call him if I hear anything.
Apparently, I’m free to go.
“I might have more questions after I speak to a few other people. Don’t disappear on me,” he says before turning away.
Or not.
The other agents scowl as I’m dismissed. Maybe they expected Jackson to handcuff me to a railing or something. One agent steps toward me, but Jackson shakes his head as he approaches them. He seems to be the one in charge.
Jigsaw, Pants, and T-Bone slowly form a wall around me. “Any word from Z?” I ask quietly.
“They’re working on it,” Jigsaw says.
I send Z a quick text to let him know I’m done talking to law enforcement for now.
As I finish sending the text, my phone buzzes.
Z.
I answer and turn the corner away from the cops. Jigsaw follows.
“What’s up?” I answer.
“You clear?”
“For now. You got something for me?”
“I’m close, brother.”
Damn, I want better news. I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck.”
“I know. Listen, Wrath, Murphy, and Dex are on their way down. Steer and Hustler are joining them. Griff and Remy are riding along too. They’re all meeting here and heading to Virginia.”
“What? Rock can’t spare anyone right now. You can’t either.”
“Fuck that. I’d be there too, brother, but I want to keep digging up whatever info I can on my end. I don’t want to leave the searching to Ice. I trust him, but…”
But Z’s a hands-on control freak, and I couldn’t be more grateful for it. “No, I appreciate what you’re doing. Thank you.” I consider who he said was on the way. “Griff and Remy?”
“From what I was told, Murphy was at Remy’s bar when he heard what happened. They volunteered to come. Flex those support club muscles, I guess.” The laughter fades from his voice. “Ice’s crew has your back too from everything I’m hearing…?” The question in his voice is clear.
“Pants and T-Bone are at the arena with us now.”
“Good. We’ll send more brothers—”
“There’s no point. Nothing for them to do. No clue where to start searching until I have a name and address.”
“You staying at their clubhouse?” he asks.
“Thinking I’m better off at a hotel. I don’t know yet.”
“Do what you need to do. I’ll call as soon as I have something.”
I hang up, frustrated but also comforted that Z’s working on the search and brothers are on their way down.
Jigsaw cracks his knuckles. “Please tell me he’s got a name or a lead. Anything to go on?”
“Not yet. Wrath, Murphy, Steer, Hustler, Remy, and Griff will be here in a few hours, though.”
He lets out a somber laugh. “Good. I hope Pants gets a chance to show off his hog farm while they’re around.”
I hadn’t even thought that far ahead.
No, my thoughts revolve around the letters Shelby received. The ominous rabbit-in-a-cage threat. Where the fuck are they? He can’t have taken her far. Traveling is too risky. What if she suffocates in her trunk? Did he tie her up on top of drugging her? She’s going to be so scared when she wakes up alone with this monster.
The more fear consumes me, the quieter and stiller I become. Jiggy’s the exact opposite. He’s vibrating menace—eager to punish someone in the most brutal way.
Right now, I need to rescue my girl.
I’ll shift into punishment mode later.
Chapter Four
Shelby
A man, singing or humming.
Mouth so dry. Mine.
Head hurts.
Limbs ache.
Drifting for a while...
Again, the singing. Bad singing. Off-key. Unpleasant.
Sleeping sounds better.
I slip under again.
Bright lights flare and I moan in pain.
The quality of the singing doesn’t improve, but the words become clearer.
Little rabbit. Little rabbit. I finally caught my little rabbit.
It all comes back in a painful burst of images firing through my sloggy brain.
Mr. Creepy Letters.
He stuffed me in my own trunk!
Not wanting to alert him that I’m awake, I shift my body a millimeter at a time, trying to figure out if I’m still in my trunk or not. Pain sizzles through my skull, and I vaguely remember banging my head at some point. My arms drag, like I’m swimming through mud.
He drugged me.
Ice-cold fear slides through my stomach. A tear slips down my cheek, lands in my hair.
Rooster will find me. I know he will. He’ll tear apart the whole state of Virginia if he has to.
Oh, shit! What if we’re not in Virginia anymore?
How long have I been out?
Panic overwhelms me as I consider all the awful options. I could be in another state or even another country. There’s no way to know. How will anyone be able to look for me?
Quiet.
I focus on inhaling a long, deep breath and try to use my senses to figure out my surroundings.
We’re not moving. There are no tires bumping over the highway, and no gentle rocking of a boat or thrum of an airplane. That’s a good sign.