Page 12 of My Protective Biker

Tate's name on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"Roan." His voice has an edge that makes everything in me go cold. "You need to check Zoe's room. Now."

I'm out of bed, down the hallway. Her door is closed. I knock. No answer. Open it.

The bed is empty and the sheets are pulled back.

"She’s not here." My voice comes out controlled even though my hands want to shake. "What happened?"

"Her window?"

I cross to it. Wide open. Screen removed and leaning against the house outside. "Open... Screen's off."

"They took her from the house." Tate's voice is grim. "Get to the clubhouse. Now."

He hangs up. I'm dressed in under a minute, calling Zoe's phone while I move. Voicemail. Try again. Same.

Get in the truck and drive, hitting redial every thirty seconds because maybe she'll pick up, maybe this is nothing, maybe she just lost track of time.

She doesn't pick up.

I pull into the clubhouse at twelve-oh-five. Clint's bike is there, Tate's truck, Cain's Harley. Inside they're gathered at the table, Chuck on his phone and Cain on his laptop.

"When'd you last hear from her?" Clint asks.

"Left the house nine-forty. Meeting a friend for coffee, home by ten-thirty." I pull out my phone, check it like maybe I missed something. "Goes straight to voicemail."

"Who was the friend?"

"Didn't say." But I know. The way she's been lately, careful about her plans. "Probably Dean."

Something crosses Clint's face but he doesn't comment. "Chuck's working his network. Cain's pulling Marrow patterns. We'll find her."

I nod because speaking requires control I don't have. Every fear I've carried for twenty years is sitting in my chest sharp and immediate.

Chuck hangs up, dials again. "Got three possibles, narrowing it down."

Cain's fingers move fast across the keyboard. "Two Marrow members spotted on Route 9 at nine-thirty. Sully and a prospect, Garrett. Heading east."

"Toward town." Tate's voice is flat.

"Yeah."

I'm standing there trying to think tactical when all I want is to get in the truck and drive until I find her. Clint catches my eye, steady and grounding. Twenty years we've been doing this.

"Intel first," he says quietly. "Then we move fast."

By twelve forty-five Chuck has it down to two locations. Cain narrows it by tracking Sully's phone until it went dark around ten. The pattern points to a safehouse two counties over, a property Marrow's been using six months.

At one-fifteen Chuck gets confirmation from his source inside Marrow.

Two members grabbed Zoe outside the coffee shop on Main around nine forty-five. She's at the safehouse. Crane's orders. Leverage.

The rage that settles into my bones is cold and useful. I channel it into focus.

"Six of us," Clint says. "Roan, Tate, Cain, Chuck, Axel, Ford. Tate and Axel take the truck for transport. Rest on bikes. We leave in ten."