Page 48
Story: Desert Heat
“Thanks, brother.”
“Tank! What the fuck are you doing? The game is about to start?” His fellow line backer, Gideon, tried yanking him by the arm toward the field. “Coach is losing his shit.”
Tank throws his helmet to the ground, “I have other shit to do.”
“Tank! THE FUCK?!”
Ignoring his protesting teammates and fans, we sprinted to the Bronco. The tires leaving skid marks as he peels out.
“Where do we start?”
I check the app on my phone. “Fuck. They ditched the phone. Their last known location was… here? Stop the truck.”
My boots pound on the pavement as I round the field, barged past the concessions to where the pin was dropped in Google Earth.
“Look at the tracks.” Tank, was breathing heavily as we both surveyed the scene.
“She fought them.”
I knelt, my finger tracing the long lines the heels of her boot dug into the earth next to the heavy set of motorcycle treads.
“Fuck.”
In Tank’s hand was an empty syringe.
Fear snaked down my spine. Our women were drugged. Even if we got them back alive, would they want to live?
Other MC’s live by different codes. Gang raping captive woman from rival clubs or forcing them into marriage is common.
“If I get Brandi back, I’m putting a ring on that shit.” Tank’s eyes are watery. “I fucking love that gold digger girl.”
My fist clenches.
“My big plan for revenge just blew the fuck up in both our faces. I love Savvy, too. My rival’s blood.”
Rage filled every inch of me, I breathed it in. Choked on it. nothing but darkness ran in my veins.
I would kill for her.
Die for her.
The only way to save my girl was to end this farce. Shed my mask and step into who I am.
River Cruz.
President of the Royal Bastards, Santa Fe.
“Hacker?” There was no hiding the anguish in my voice as I took his call. “They ditched her phone.”
“I know. I got them on the video feed, six were riding chrome. They stashed the girls in the back of five series BMW. Black with Vermont tags.”
“Which way?”
“I’m still hacking into the local traffic cams… I’ll text.”
“Tank?”
Fists clenched, he growls. “Tires picked up mud. We’ll follow the breadcrumbs until they dissapear.”
“Tank! What the fuck are you doing? The game is about to start?” His fellow line backer, Gideon, tried yanking him by the arm toward the field. “Coach is losing his shit.”
Tank throws his helmet to the ground, “I have other shit to do.”
“Tank! THE FUCK?!”
Ignoring his protesting teammates and fans, we sprinted to the Bronco. The tires leaving skid marks as he peels out.
“Where do we start?”
I check the app on my phone. “Fuck. They ditched the phone. Their last known location was… here? Stop the truck.”
My boots pound on the pavement as I round the field, barged past the concessions to where the pin was dropped in Google Earth.
“Look at the tracks.” Tank, was breathing heavily as we both surveyed the scene.
“She fought them.”
I knelt, my finger tracing the long lines the heels of her boot dug into the earth next to the heavy set of motorcycle treads.
“Fuck.”
In Tank’s hand was an empty syringe.
Fear snaked down my spine. Our women were drugged. Even if we got them back alive, would they want to live?
Other MC’s live by different codes. Gang raping captive woman from rival clubs or forcing them into marriage is common.
“If I get Brandi back, I’m putting a ring on that shit.” Tank’s eyes are watery. “I fucking love that gold digger girl.”
My fist clenches.
“My big plan for revenge just blew the fuck up in both our faces. I love Savvy, too. My rival’s blood.”
Rage filled every inch of me, I breathed it in. Choked on it. nothing but darkness ran in my veins.
I would kill for her.
Die for her.
The only way to save my girl was to end this farce. Shed my mask and step into who I am.
River Cruz.
President of the Royal Bastards, Santa Fe.
“Hacker?” There was no hiding the anguish in my voice as I took his call. “They ditched her phone.”
“I know. I got them on the video feed, six were riding chrome. They stashed the girls in the back of five series BMW. Black with Vermont tags.”
“Which way?”
“I’m still hacking into the local traffic cams… I’ll text.”
“Tank?”
Fists clenched, he growls. “Tires picked up mud. We’ll follow the breadcrumbs until they dissapear.”
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