Page 38 of Blue-Eyed Jacks (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #1)

Outside of Pittsburgh—Jackson

“Y our GPS is worth shit.” My complaint fell on Hickey’s deaf ears.

“I’m telling you, the tracker is about three hundred feet from you.”

I was in the middle of bumfuck no-fucking-where at some dark park or trailhead of some stupid ass nature walk. A public place with cops and god knows what lurking behind the now gated entrance.

“It’s sealed off.” Another lit vehicle rolled past. No one was going in any kind of hurry, which… if I thought about it too hard, meant nothing good.

“Kate’s tracker is there.”

I debated telling him what I was seeing. Squad cars, at least four, an ambulance with its lights shut off.

And… fuck my life, that last vehicle with its little yellow light was a coroner’s van.

I’d pulled over as soon as I saw the flashing lights. Then, I crawled past the scene until I found a pull-off to stash the car. I backtracked on foot to see what was going on and tucked behind some trees to stay out of sight. “What about Zoe’s? The one that Sprout put on her?”

“Heading west.”

“And? Where west?” I needed that information immediately. If Kate was in the park, she wasn’t moving. And since no one was in a hurry, I had a guess as to why. But if Zoe was still alive, I might not give in to the urge to say, “Burn it all down,” like my gut was screaming to do.

“Zoe’s tracker is still on track toward Pittsburgh,” Hickey confirmed. “If it stops, I’ll send the address in text.”

“Tell me you dropped a tracker on one of the bikes,” I demanded.

Shock and company skedaddled out of Skilletsville almost minutes behind my inglorious walk of shame out of the club. Nonno was pissed about it.

“They tagged Bandit’s bike.”

Ha! Served the goddamned bastard right. “Where is he?”

“Almost to Pittsburgh.”

Obviously, that’s where they all went.

Where everyone went except Kate’s tracker.

I tried not to think about the ramifications of that at all.

The hi-viz lights on the back of the ambulance flicked on.

They were so bright I could make out some details through the trees.

About a hundred and fifty feet from the parking lot, the cops and other personnel clustered around a little picnic site.

Slapped on top of the white gurney, the black sheen of a body bag took shape.

It was almost invisible before but now glistened like snake skin in the floodlights.

I turned my back for a moment, collecting my will.

I’d just hung up on Hickey and turned back to see what the police were doing when I noticed the sheriff’s team coordinating a search of the area. A team of two was heading directly for me. I’d stayed too fucking long.

As quickly and quietly as I could, I slipped through the trees and picked my way to the car. I drove away carefully, leaving the scene and my heart behind. At least a piece of it.

One body bag. Not another one in sight.

That meant Zoe was out there… somewhere. Or her tracker was. I needed to find that. If she was still alive, I’d make it work. Didn’t know how, or what kind of man I’d be, but I’d do my damndest to fix what broke tonight.

And that was a vow.

Hickey’s promise to get me a location hit right before his cell signal faded again. I kept going on the most direct route I knew toward Pittsburgh, hoping and praying this wasn’t another wrong turn. By the time I hit the city, I was ready to jump out of my seat.

Practically everything was across a river, over a mountain, or no fucking kidding, through a damn tunnel.

Claustrophobic wasn’t nearly a strong enough word for this wretched place.

Knowing that Shock lived here and actually enjoyed this dirty, cramped-as-fuck town with hills so high, it felt like they were going to fall on you any minute; made me hate the place even more.

I know I wasn’t being fair to the folks who loved their city, but I only saw the cracks.

The places to exploit, the poverty. The run-down factories, the too slick “old-town” charm that some politician used as a vanity project to get re-elected.

I hated every damn thing I saw. I picked up his call while I crossed a bridge that headed toward the northern section of Pittsburgh.

“Has Zoe’s tracker moved?”

“Nope. They’ve been there at least thirty minutes.

Good? Or bad. A hell of a lot could happen in that span.

My mind turned to dark places. How a half second of inattention could earn you a pipe in the back of the head.

How fast I could empty a full clip, reload, and empty a second.

How similar cutting a throat was to gutting a fish.

The same thrust, drag, catch on viscera, and the squelching noise as flesh split open.

I cleared my throat. Hickey tapped away at his keyboard. That meant he had something going on to keep him busy. I needed a distraction. “Whatcha working on?”

“Tracking Nonno.”

Color me surprised. “The fuck you say?”

“Don’t worry, he authorized it.”

I almost missed the turn, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. “Authorized what?”

“Well, once you and Shock lit out, he got suspicious. Then he was pissed off. Even more so when Tits showed up with a bunch of those bitches she hangs around with, and Kate wasn’t there to pick up. He said he’s going after Shock.”

“Really now?”

That was all I fucking needed. The national mother-fucking president crawling down my ass. “I suppose you sent him Shock’s signal?”

There was too long of a pause on the other end.

“Hickey? Did I lose you?”

“Sorry, J. Yeah, he wanted Shock’s location.” He trailed off, almost constipated in his strangled tones. If I didn’t know him as well as I did, I might not have pushed for more, but I knew him. Trained him, raised him from a puppy-ass rice-rocket rider to full grown Destroyer.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Shock’s signal is with Zoe’s.”

The hell it was.

I ended the call. For good measure, I turned off the goddamn phone. I was less than a mile from the address and despite it being a residential neighborhood, disregarded all sorts of traffic laws as I double-timed it to the address.

I’d beat Nonno there; that was certain, even with my little side trip. Most importantly, I needed to be there, where Zoe was, over an hour before Shock found her.

All of those dark thoughts turned really fucking dark.

“If he harms one hair on her head, I’ll…” I spoke aloud in the car as I drove.

It wasn’t an empty threat, just open-ended. I’d start by getting my baby girl safe. Then shoot the motherfucker in the balls. First aid enough to keep him alive so I could tear his skin off. Then I’d cut him up and feed him his own parts.

Damn .

I sounded just like my old road brother, Pinner.

I finally understood his motivation to serve life in prison for killing the man who hurt his little girl, Lily.

I could learn a thing or two from his fuckups, though.

He went to prison. I wouldn’t. Whatever end Shock deserved, it would fly under the radar of law enforcement.

I backed off the accelerator. It wouldn’t do any good if I was caught. I had to go in knowing the scene would be right out of Hell. I also needed to deal with one fucking problem at a time and not get myself caught doing it. Usually, I was better at that shit.

The problem was, I hadn’t planned this heist. I altered my plan, driving past the house at Hickey’s address.

I parked farther down the road where the road dead-ended and quickly wiped down the car.

As I crept downhill toward the house carrying my gear, I tried to figure out what I’d do if Shock or the police trapped me in this god-forsaken suburb.

If I had to use the car for a getaway, it was a bad idea to leave it where it was.

I should have turned around and parked it closer to the mouth of the cul de sac.

Fuck wasting time to move it . I’d do whatever was necessary to get Zoe out—even hot-wire a car.

Once I got the situation controlled, I’d head north.

News of my demise couldn’t have traveled fast enough to reach everyone in the Destroyers’ network.

There was a smuggler on the border by Detroit who’d get me into Canada.

Me and Zoe.

Plan set, I stuck to the shadows of the overgrown trees and landscaping that surrounded the McMansions and stately ranch homes that somehow still looked good despite being almost a quarter century old.

When Hickey told me the address, it pinged in my memories.

I’d looked up her father’s house once as I plotted his demise.

Too bad the asshole got himself shot before I could get around to finally doing it.

Kate’s former house was one of the newer ones, built in the eighties.

It was a mishmash of all the outward trappings the houses of that time featured.

A big ass arched window over the front door, colonial decor, but mansion-style scale and amenities that didn’t quite create symmetry in the exterior design.

From my perch on the stone fence, I studied the exterior to picture the layout on the inside.

On the main floor, there were two windows to the left of the door, another doubled window off to the right.

I scanned the roof line. There was a chimney on the left, which was likely attached to the great room.

No chimney on the right meant either office space or other whatnot, maybe ending with a formal dining room in the back or maybe a second family room where the kids watched movies and shit.

The farthest room to the right on the main floor was lit up.

The upstairs bedroom above it was lit up as well. The other side had more room for a main bedroom, but the lack of light coming from any of the windows over there told me a lot. Shock would want to see what he did.

I’d slip in through the back. Come up the middle or hopefully find a back staircase off a kitchen and get upstairs without being spotted. Then, down the hall to the lit bank of windows on the end. Gun ready, knife in the other hand.

Hopefully, Zoe wouldn’t try to hug me. That would be a fucking mistake.

There was a van in the driveway. Flanking it were two motorcycles.

At least one of them was Bandit’s because of the tracker.

I guessed the other would be Shock’s. Fucking morons .

Taking their bikes here? Dumb mistake. Noise like that was noticed.

The denizens of residential neighborhoods loved to peek out windows whenever they heard loud pipes.

In a way, that was a good thing. Maybe I could pin Shock and Bandit with this whole thing and keep the cops from crawling up my ass later. That meant killing them both. But how?

One problem at a time, dummy . My dad’s voice was pretty loud tonight. I didn’t need it distracting me. Then again, the old bastard got away with a lot before it finally caught up with him. I might want to listen.

I tucked my bag under a bush and slipped around to the back of the house.

There was a balcony over the deck that wrapped across the main floor. Both jutted off into darkness.

Fuck a staircase.

This balcony was much easier to climb onto than Sprout’s greased pole. I managed it in about a third of the time it took me to breach my home’s security.

I hung from the railing, listening for problems. There were none that I could tell. I sensed movement in the house, but nothing indicating they’d heard me. In a moment of stupid imagining, I remembered Kate’s kiss. The longing for another was like a dagger in my heart.

There wouldn’t be one of those waiting for me here.

The French doors at the top were easy as fuck to pry open. My anger made me quick, brutal, and mostly silent. The thick carpet didn’t make any sound when I padded to the open door to the hall.

I hoped like hell I wasn’t too late.