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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Declan

“Everyone take your seats. Kayce, I’m going to open the conversation up with you. What the fuck do we know about the shitshow that went down last night?” Gabe asks.

“Well, for starters—” I don’t give him a chance to finish his sentence before I ask what I’ve been waiting to know since I got in the car and left the jail.

“Where’s Violet and the kid?” I know Kayce knows. He’s been following the both of them closely for far too long not to.

“She’s out. Got out in the middle of the night,” Kayce supplies.

“Out where? Why isn’t my woman here, with me and our family?”

Kayce sighs. “Because Vincenzo got a judge to drop her charges and is keeping her with him.” Kayce leans back in his seat. I’m two seconds from wiping that smirk off his face. Fucker. “It’s safer for her to be there until we get the kid back. It appears people are able to sneak off your property undetected. We didn’t want to take the chance of Violet trying to sneak off to get to her son.”

I lunge. “Oh, you son of a bitch!” Ethan and Jake grab my arms, holding me back. Mack is standing between us, and Kayce, the smug fucker, is smiling at me over Mack’s shoulder.

He shrugs. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he taunts. “Did you not just lose a prisoner recently? Escaped from a locked cell, in a basement with multiple security measures that should’ve prevented or at the least alerted you to the breech? Forgive me if we thought she would be better protected with the mob boss in his fortress.”

Narrowing my eyes, studying his face as I process his words, things are starting to make sense. “You know where Thomas is.”

He shrugs again. “I know a lot of things. But if you want to know the same things, I suggest you sit the fuck down and let us get on with it.”

“Eaton,” Gabe warns. “Quit goading Declan. I don’t give a shit what you know. You keep this shit up and eventually my men will let him tear your ass apart.” He gives Kayce a pointed look that says he’s not fucking around. “Now, let’s get this shit done. The sooner we have all the information, the sooner we can mobilize. And Eaton,” Gabe lays his gun flat on the table, leaning forward on his fists. “If you ever try to command my men in my clubhouse again, I’ll put you down myself. You may be top dog with your men, but this is my house. My club. You wanna fuck around, you’re gonna find out. You got me?”

Kayce’s smile is faint, but I see it. He respects Gabe more for standing up for his men. It’s something that resonates with the soldier in him. Gabe’s just established the chain of command, and Kayce will honor it because it’s what he would’ve done if someone tried to take control of his team.

“All right.” Kayce raises one hand up, pulling out his cell phone with the other. He presses a few buttons. It rings once, and a voice picks up.

“Identify,” the voice says.

“This is Guardian One. Is the Angel secure?” Kayce says.

“Affirmative. Angel is secure. The Cherub has been relocated to the transition home. We have eyes on the location.”

Seemingly pleased with the news, Kayce drops the code-speak and says, “Dallas, I’m going to need you to get Tate and the others on the line. I’m with the Kings and we’re going to need to brief them on the situation.”

“Roger that. Give me a second to get them all in here.” The line goes silent for a minute, and we all settle back into our seats. Hawk opens his laptop and gets it booted up, connecting it to the flat screen on the wall.

“You’re going to need this.” Kayce hands him a thumb drive, which Hawk installs. We all sit and listen as Kayce and his men communicate over the phone.

“You there, boss?” Dallas comes back online.

“We’re all here. You got everyone?”

“Here,” comes over the line from several voices in unison.

“Tate. I need you and Hawk to share screens so we can all see the same thing. Can you get that worked out?”

“Hawk, I’m going to need access. Check your email. Click on the link,” Tate says. Sounds of keyboards clicking simultaneously on both sides of the line fill the room. No one bothers to ask how they have each other’s email. I’d bet they’re both sneaking around in the background to see what each other has on their computers. Hawk’s impulsive curiosity won’t allow him to be in there and not look.

“I’m in,” Hawk answers. “You’re live, Tate. Don’t fuck with my shit,” Hawk warns.

“I wouldn’t think of it.” We can hear the smile in his voice. “Hold the line. I need to connect to another source.” Hawk looks at Kayce confused.

“We have another technician he works with. Another system. They split responsibilities when the job is as large as this one,” Kayce explains. “It also allows us to break up the information in case anyone hacks into our system.” He glares at Hawk, accusingly. “Not all information is stored in one system.”

“You divvy it up.” Hawk nods. “That’s smart actually.”

“You seem shocked by my wisdom.”

“Nah. Not shocked, Kayce. Just not sure I believe it was your idea,” Hawk teases.

“It wasn’t,” Tate chimes in. “All right, boss. We’re good to go. Everyone is on the line.”

“All right. Pull up what you have from last night’s reports,” Kayce says, and several pages are displayed on the wall. Basic information about Violet, Carter, and myself. The incident report, the initial social worker request, and Halloway’s notes and cause for concern. I don’t know what the forms are, but seeing the information, I get the jest.

“Carter has been placed in what’s called a transitional foster home. It’s one of several you have in the county. The kids are placed under emergency care, meaning they need a place to stay for twenty-four to seventy-two hours while the CPS worker finds the next of kin or a more permanent foster care facility,” Kayce explains. “This particular home has been flagged by us. It seems this home has an excessively high turnover rate for beds, meaning kids come in and before they can be placed, mysteriously runaway. It’s not the foster parents’ job to search for the kids if they run off. They only have to report it. CPS and the police search for the child once they’re notified.”

“Is it really so shocking that they would have runaways? From what Lilah has told us, foster care is a joke. She was temporarily placed a time or two until her mom sobered up. Sure, there are some good families out there, but a good percentage are in it for the money and not the kids,” Ethan says.

“It’s not uncommon, but we think that’s why this house has gone under the radar,” Kayce starts. “This transition home is run by Lester and Jennifer Connelly. A good, solid couple. Both work from home. It’s a spacious house with room for up to six kids at a time. They’ve been in the foster care transition program for several years. But like we said, they have a higher than usual runaway rate. So, we did some digging.”

The screen on the wall changes and a personal bank account for the couple is displayed. A red highlighter starts marking lines in the deposit column.

March 8 Deposit $10,000

March 15 Deposit $16,000

March 30 Deposit $12,500

The list continues over the next eight months. Deposit amounts vary, but there’s a consistent pattern. A phone log from the CPS headquarters for the county appears after the screen changed.

“Notice anything?” Kayce asks.

“The dates of the deposits are twenty-four hours before the kids are reported missing,” Jake points out. “But who’s paying them? And how do they know the kids are there?”

Tate comes back on the line. His cursor moving over the screen. “There is a members only website. They take a short video of the kid playing or watching tv, whatever, and post it with the kids’ general information and an auction time. The auctions generally run for two hours. The highest bid wins and then transportation or delivery is decided. It doesn’t matter how they get the kid so long as they get them within the first thirty-six hours of them being in the transition home. The kid is then drugged and shipped to their new owner.”

“Fuck,” Ethan groans. “Is that what Spider was going to do with Lilah?”

His daughter was a runaway, living on the streets when a couple of Devils found her. They bought her food and lured her to their van, then drugged her. If they hadn’t kidnapped Skyler the same day, who knows what would’ve happened to both of them.

“Someone in the CPS system has to know what’s going on. They can’t all be heartless assholes,” Hawk snaps.

“No. They’re not. Each transition house we’ve found this to be a pattern in has a case worker who funnels the kids to them. In this case, Daniel McBride is the handler.”

“He’s the asshole who took Carter away at the hospital,” I growl.

“He is. He’s also the one who made the arrangements to send him to the Connelly’s,” Tate says. “It took us a minute to connect him to everything since he doesn’t get paid in cash.”

“What does he get paid with?” Caleb asks skeptically.

Expecting to hear drugs or property, promotions in the workplace. Something that’s commonly used in trade for sick shit like this. Things that are less traceable. I was not prepared for the answer.

The screen changes again and we’re staring at pictures of a naked McBride getting sucked off by a blindfolded, beaten and bruised woman. Ages vary from teenagers to adults. My stomach turns at the scene before me.

“Those photos were taken twenty-four hours after a child he placed in the Connelly’s home went missing. A week later, the bound, bruised woman you see there in the picture was found dead in a dumpster. Her fingers and toes were burned, and all her teeth had been removed from her mouth,” Kayce says.

“Jesus.” It’s a collective curse throughout the room.

“He covered his tracks. No prints or teeth means no identification,” Hawk explains, though we all already knew.

“And this fucker took my kid to that house?” Rage like I’ve never felt before is pulsing through my veins. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest at any moment.

“He did, but we have eyes on them. And nothing has come over the website yet.” Kayce turns to Hawk. “Open the next file.” Hawk looks to Gabe and waits for his approval. Once he has it, he opens the file.

“Yet!” I roar. “Are you fucking kidding me? I want the address, and I want my son, now.”

“Easy, Shamus. There’s a protocol. You know this.”

“Fuck protocol. Get me my damn kid.”

“Declan.” Gabe’s commanding tone gives me pause. “We need to hear them out. Stand the fuck down.”

“They know where my kid is, Pres. I can’t just wait for some sick fuck to show up and steal him away when I have the power to save him.”

“Nothing is going to happen to Carter. You have my word, Dec,” Gabe says. “And Kayce and his men are going to make sure I keep my fucking word. Right?”

“We have to wait for the auction to close before we move in. You want your kid. We want the transport team,” Kayce clarifies. “We know who is supplying the kids and who puts them up for auction. What we don’t have is the transport team. We believe we know who it is, but we only have one photo to go by and can’t verify where they were at the time of the photo.”

“Who?” Gabe asks.

“The Devil’s Order MC.”

The room erupts. No one wants to go to war, but they’ve been creeping up to our back door since they killed George. It was only a matter of time before shit went sideways and we had to face them again. Looks like that time is now.

A photo of three bikers wearing Devil’s Order patches loading a small, lifeless body into a cargo van pops up on the screen.

“This is the only photo I have of them, the DOMC, placing a child in the back of a cargo van. But we believe they’re the ones who are transporting the kids from the transition homes and selling them on the black market as sex slaves. We believe it’s why they stole George Sinclair’s eighteen-wheeler. It’s also why they killed him.”

“George knew what they were doing and handed their shipment over to Parisi, who set them all free in exchange for Skyler’s protection,” Ethan supplies.

“Why haven’t you killed them all?” I ask, not able to keep the steel out of my voice.

“We want the head. In order to get to the head, we have to follow the minions,” Kayce says, shrugging.

“What makes you think they’re here in Oakridge?” It’s Gabe who asks. “They’ve steered clear of this area for years. Until they found out Sky came home, but those two didn’t make it back to tell their story. Why come back now and run the risk of a war?”

“They have Marco Cusenza backing them,” Tate announces. “Maybe they think with his pull and the people he has on his payroll, from cops to judges, they’re untouchable. I don’t know. But what I can tell you is they’ve grown. They have multiple chapters in several states. All of which have noticed an uptick in missing women and children.”

“What do you need from us?” Gabe asks suspiciously.

“Hold it,” Tate calls out. “Boss, we have a situation.”

“What is it?”

“James Swanson is on the move. His GPS says he’s headed to Crestview. If I had to guess, he’s headed to get the kid.”

“But you said the auction didn’t open yet.” Pulling my hands through my hair, tugging and pulling, I try to let the pain ground me. “If the auction isn’t up, how the fuck does he know about Carter?”

“The social worker, Cortez, probably reached out to him,” Tate says. “She has to find next of kin before she can place him in another home. It’s usually a longer process, but he’s a sheriff. It wouldn’t be hard for her to connect the dots.”

“He’s going to be pissed and scared,” Kayce suggests. “Not only is his kid in foster care, but his dead family has resurfaced—alive. He’s going to have some explaining to do.” Kayce smirks. “He became a very rich man in a short period of time. Some assumed he killed his wife and son after it was discovered that Violet and Carter had an inheritance which, sadly, became locked up in probate. He’s been trying for two years to get that money.”

“It’s confirmed. He’s headed to the foster home. The social worker is set to meet him there. He’s less than an hour out,” Tate says.

My phone rings, but everyone who would be calling me is in this room, except my Dove and the kid.

“Answer it on speaker,” Gabe commands. “Could be a ransom call.” I nod.

Taking my phone out, I set it on the table and answer on speaker. “Hello?”

“Declan?” a small, scared voice whispers. “Declan, it’s me Carter.”

“Where are you, Little Man? How are you?” My throat clogs with emotion, happy to hear his voice, and scared I won’t get to him before his prick of a sperm donor.

“I’m in the closet. Mr. Connelly is in the office on his computer. Jennifer, his wife, left to get groceries. I stole his phone to call Mama, but figured I should call you first. You said if I was ever in trouble to call you. I want to come home, Declan. Please?” His voice tightens as he sobs softly.

“You did good, bud. I’m coming to get you. You sit tight and keep out of sight. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir. I have to go.” The line drops.

“Carter!”

“Get ready to roll,” Gabe orders. “Hawk, weapons and comms. Pop, I need a cage ready, and load it with medical supplies, just in case. Jake, I want prospects on the women, and the women on lockdown until we return. Get them here. If the Devil’s Order is on their way to town, we don’t want to leave the women unprotected. Ethan, help Hawk. Jameson, I need you to get something special put together with Ghost to announce our arrival. I don’t want to leave any stone unturned.”