Page 17

But that was two hours and two beers ago, and we were no closer to finding the location than we were to the North Pole. The wall clock with an image of a pinup girl on a bike read five o’clock, and the sun was already setting, slivers of it showing through the cracked-open garage.
Who knew if Caroline was still alive? With the ripped paper badly taped together, it was damn near impossible to determine what warehouse had that shaped window. It was covered with a tarp. She looked like she was in some kind of office with glass windows. Had Bates taken the photo himself? Why had they sent it to me—what did they expect me to do when I saw it?
Too many questions for a guy who always had a one-track mind.
I took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry. I just…”
Gabriel dropped a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Hey, man, we get it.”
Grant walked over and sat beside me on the bench, offering a fantastic piece of advice: “Yeah.”
I snorted, feeling my stress level decrease just marginally. “Thanks.”
Let Jackson feel what he feels, I thought with unexpected bitterness. Protecting his feelings wasn’t worth letting Caroline die. Not to me.
I understood Jackson’s hatred toward Caroline. It was only warranted, considering her father was the one who shot and killed William, his kid brother, who was the former president while Black Jack was in the SEALs for ten years. Jackson could only feel hatred. He couldn’t care less if Caroline died.
An eye for an eye was an acceptable form of justice.
The memory of seeing William taking the bullet to the chest and collapsing on the street flashed in my mind’s eye. The raw edge of his death would always linger. I shook my head, shoving the scene down.
Completely ignoring my warnings, Gabriel and Grant picked up the search on their phones. I sighed again. There was no stopping them now. I could only appreciate their dedication.
After a few minutes, Grant sighed dramatically. “I wonder what life would be like if we didn’t have to think about the Wolverines. Or trouble at all. Hell, I can’t even remember what life was like before Bates rolled into town. What could my days be if they were mine and mine alone and not the club’s?”
Gabriel raised his brows. “Careful, bro. You almost sound like you want out of the Devils.”
I looked up, too, studying the mechanic. He was a hard guy to read sometimes.
Grant shrugged one shoulder. “Nah, ‘course not.”
We left it at that and went back to searching—and searching and searching.
Until an image of a murky window on the side of a warehouse on Maps made me pause. No way.
I zoomed in, my breath catching, and compared it to the picture of Caroline.
No fucking way.
“I found it,” I muttered. “Holy shit. This is it.”
I scanned the address. My heart was pounding. Did I just find the Wolverines’ hidey hole they’d been using for almost two months? It was the perfect location for a Wolverine hideout. If my memory of all Reno’s shadiest spots served me correctly, it was used to run police training drills. Bates had friends in the department. It added up.
I pushed to my feet, throwing on my leather jacket—the one without the Devil’s Luck emblem—to shove my phone and Polaroid in its pockets. I caught Gabriel and Grant exchanging looks that suggested they were worried for my sanity.
“I’m going,” I said before either of them had the chance to talk me out of it. “Rat me out to Jackson, or don’t. I don’t give a damn. Won’t blame you if you do. Just give me a five-minute head start. That’s all I need if he comes after me.”
Gabriel barked a laugh. “That’s all you need? Man, you’re walking into a warehouse of who knows how many Wolverines. Fifteen? Twenty? Maybe more? All for her?” He gestured to the picture in my jacket. “She’s a bitch, and you know it. I know you don’t like to see a woman hurt. None of us do. But is she really worth the risk?”
“Yes,” I said flatly.
Grant exhaled slowly, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured them despite my own doubt beneath the surface of my confidence. “I’ll roll in quiet. Lights off. Engine dead. There’s a back road to this warehouse. Last I was down there, it was full of abandoned cars and junk. Poor line of sight. If they’ve been hiding out here all these months, they’ll be confident. Comfortable. They won’t expect me.”
“Or they’re waiting for you because they sent the picture,” Gabriel pointed out.
“Maybe,” I admitted with a shrug. “But I don’t have the luxury of time and neither does she. I got nothing else going on except trying to be a hero.”