Page 17 of Big Easy
"Prez, we need to get back to her apartment and find those cameras. The fucker is probably watching the men as we speak," Grim states.
"He took my woman." I fight hard to keep my shit together.
Riggs looks at me. "We'll find her, brother."
A short time later, we are back at the apartment complex, barreling through the busted front door.
"Sanders took her," I growl. "The bastard has cameras hidden throughout the apartment.
" I begin to search as well. "I hope you're listening, motherfucker.
I'm going to find your sorry ass. When I do, I'm going to kill you," I roar, wanting the son of a bitch to hear the wrath of my words and fear what's coming for him.
We begin tearing the place apart.
"Found one," Grim announces while I continue to search Sutton's bedroom. He appears in the doorway. "It works off batteries, which means he would need direct access to the apartment to retrieve the memory card and change them."
Frustrated, I stare at the ceiling. The flicker of red in the air vent overhead catches my eye.
Son of a bitch. Dragging a white armchair sitting nearby across the floor, I stand on it.
Taking out my pocket knife, I work the screws loose, keeping it in place.
Inside the air duct sits a camera attached to a cable wire.
"It has to lead somewhere." I pull on it but don't get much slack.
"Anyone live next door?" Riggs asks, and I look at him, then look at Grim, who rushes out of the apartment with Catcher right behind him.
The rest of us follow, entering the apartment after Grim busts the door open. A pizza box and bits of trash sit on the kitchen counter. "Someone was here recently," I say, noticing the pizza is half eaten.
"Back here," Catcher's voice echoes down the hall, and I'm rushing in his direction, where he's crouching over a bound and gagged Maci, her eyes wide and wild, rimmed red from crying.
Catcher takes a blade from his pocket, cutting Maci loose, his eyes scanning her trembling body. "You hurt anywhere?"
Maci shakes her head, her hands trembling as she tries to gather herself.
"Where's Sutton?" I ask, my voice heavy with worry.
"I don't know," Maci whispers, her voice quivering, and tears stream uncontrollably down her face. Her voice breaks into sobs.
My stomach knots tightly, a surge of dread rising in my chest. "Who did this?" I manage to keep my tone steady while struggling to keep my composure as my mind races for answers.
"I don't know. The man's face was covered.
" Maci says softly, her eyes searching mine desperately.
"I got home before Sutton. The moment I stepped inside, I was shoved forcefully to the floor.
I tried to fight back, to scream or run, but he was stronger—so much stronger than me.
He backhanded me so hard I blacked out. When I came to, I was in here.
" Maci frantically scans the empty bedroom.
"The rest of the apartment is clear," Wick shouts, stopping just outside the bedroom door.
The blood in my veins runs cold. Sutton is in trouble.
"I did find this." Wick enters the room, holding a piece of paper, and hands it to me. "Credit card receipt for a motel."
I take in Sanders' signature at the bottom of the receipt, along with the name of the motel and a room number scribbled on the bottom.
"The Refuge. It's over on the other side of town, near Jerry's Stop-n-Go.
" Like it or not, this is the only lead we have.
I look at Grim. "Get Maci to the clubhouse and let the women watch after her. "
"You got it, Prez." Grim moves toward Maci. "You good to ride?" he asks her, and Maci nods.
I lock eyes with Brewer. "You're with me, brother."
Without hesitation, Brewer nods sharply. "Let's burn pavement."
"Catcher, hit the road with Grim." Riggs barks, and his man falls in behind my brother, heading out of the apartment. Riggs turns to me, a cold glare in his eyes. "Time to find your woman."
Our headlights cut through the darkness as we tear across town. My fists are gripping the bars so tight my knuckles ache, and the rumble of the bike vibrates through my bones, feeding the storm building inside me.
The old rundown motel finally comes into view, the faded neon sign flickering against the night sky. The Refuge is the kind of place that attracts the worst type of people. You don't check in here unless you're running from something or up to no good.
We slow, rolling into the cracked asphalt parking lot. The air is heavy with the scent of mildew and a sour piss smell that makes my stomach churn.
We kill the engines, and the sudden silence is deafening.
The place is too still.
Too quiet.
The kind of stillness that breathes danger.
My senses sharpen, and my chest tightens knowing every second that passes is one too many. I scan the numbers on the doors. "Over there. Room 12. That's the number on the receipt."
Our boots crunch over loose pavement and broken glass. We're just feet from the door when it happens.
A muffled scream slices through the stillness, followed by a single, sharp gunshot. The sound rattles the motel window.
"Look what you made me do. Shut up—shut up."
My body reacts before my mind catches up—gun drawn, blood roaring in my ears, I roar, "Sutton!" I kick the door.
"Jaxson!" Her voice tears through the air, frantic and broken. The desperation in her voice slices me open. Another shot cracks, the bullet punching through the window and showering the ground outside with glass.
I kick again, and the door finally bursts open. I charge inside—and freeze.
Sanders is holding Sutton at gunpoint. Her wrists are bound, her cheeks streaked with tears, a bruise already darkening her skin. My grip tightens on my gun.
"If you take another step, I'll kill her," he spits, eyes wide and twitching.
I step forward, slow and steady. "Let her go."
"Stay the fuck back!" His voice is wild, manic in its pitch. "You don't get it, do you? She was meant for me. Not you. Not anyone else. Me."
My teeth grind. Keep talking, asshole. Keep giving me a reason to end you.
"You think you can just walk in here and take her? No. I've been watching her. She's perfect. She's mine."
"Sanders, you hurt her, you don't walk out of here alive."
He grins like a man already teetering off the edge. "Then I'll take her with me to the other side. We'll be together forever. No one can stop me. Not you. Not anyone."
My jaw aches from the pressure. You're not walking out of here breathing.
I meet Sutton's eyes. A single tear slips down her cheek, and that's it—the last thread holding me back snaps.
"Stop looking at her!" Sanders bellows, jerking her closer until her gasp shreds through me. "Here's what's gonna happen—I'm walking out of here, and she's coming with me. You try to stop me, I'll paint the walls with her blood."
"You're fuckin' crazy if you think for one second me or my men are letting you leave with my woman." My voice is low, lethal, every word aimed to cut.
"Stop calling me crazy! I'm not crazy!" His voice cracks, the veins in his neck bulging. Then he lowers his tone, almost whispering, and somehow that's worse. "She just needs to see me without your noise in her head. She'll love me. I'll make her love me."
Then his gun shifts toward me. His eyes narrow, his lips curl. "If I kill you, then she'll have no choice but to love only me."
There's my opening.
"I warned you the next time I paid you a visit, I'd kill you." I squeeze the trigger. The blast is deafening in the small space. His head jerks back, a spray of blood hitting the wall. At the same time, a sharp, searing pain blooms in my chest, stealing my breath.
"Jaxson!" Sutton screams, rushing toward me. My shirt is wet—warm—and when I glance down, the darkness on my chest is unmistakable. Blood.
"He's been shot!" she shouts. Behind her, Sanders lies sprawled on the floor, a growing pool of red beneath his head.
"He's dead, brother," Riggs confirms.
Breathing feels like dragging air through a straw. My knees give, and the floor rushes up to meet me.
"We need to get him to the hospital!" Sutton cries as Wick lowers me onto my back.
He yanks his shirt over his head and presses it hard against my chest. The fabric soaks through almost instantly, and the metallic tang of my own blood begins filling my nose.
"From your labored breathing, the bullet probably punctured your lung. " Wick says.
Brewer cuts the bindings on Sutton's wrists. Her voice is shaky, but her hands are steady as she leans down. Her lips crush against mine. "Don't you dare leave me."
I bring my hand up, brushing my knuckles over the bruise on her cheek. My vision blurs, but I force my eyes to stay on her. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"I'm fine. Now lie still." Tears spill down her cheeks, falling onto my face.
"I love you, Sutton," I rasp.
Her forehead presses to mine. "I love you too, Jaxson."