Page 13 of Her Dirty Biker (Savage Kings MC #3)

Chapter thirteen

Diesel

Everything looks the same. The door is closed, and the Curtains drawn. The same goddamn quiet, but the stillness is too still.

The second I open the door, my gut drops.

“Willow?” My voice echoes in the silence.

No response. I step inside, and the air hits me like a hammer. It’s cold. Stale. Off. Like whatever warmth existed here died hours ago.

“ Willow! ” I’m already moving through the living room, into the bedroom.

The sheets are rumpled. Her coffee cup still sits on the table. Her phone is on the counter. But she’s gone.

I walk through the house to the back door. It stands wide open. I see the busted lock and everything inside me goes red.

I yank out my phone and dial Rock.

“She’s gone,” I grit. “Someone took her.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Rock’s voice hardens. “What the fuck happened?”

“She didn’t leave on her own,” I say, already striding back outside. “Lock’s broken. Phone’s still here. No sign of a struggle, but the back door’s wide open.”

“You think it’s the Guardrail?”

“I know it’s the him.”

“Jesus Christ.” A pause. “Get to the clubhouse. Now.”

“I’m going to find her.”

“ Diesel— ”

I hang up.

Fuck meeting. Fuck the plan. I’ve never been the kind of guy who waits for permission when someone I care about’s in danger.

And Willow? She’s mine.

The minute I roll up to the Black Crown garage, I stalk toward the side office where Beast is pulling apart a carburetor.

He looks up, frowning. “What the hell—”

“They took her,” I growl.

His eyes go wide. “What?”

“Sons of Decimation. They hit the cabin. Back door’s busted in.”

“Fuck.”

I lean over the map laid out on the table, slamming my palm down hard. “You still got those surveillance taps near the casino?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Pull everything from the last couple of hours from there and the cameras around my cabin. If they moved her through Jackson Ridge, I want plates, faces, fucking anything. ”

Beast is already grabbing his laptop.

My hands shake as I pace the concrete floor. My mind won’t stop racing, running through every possibility. Every sick, twisted thing they might do to her.

She’s so damn small. So sweet. She didn’t deserve any of this. She barely even knows who the club is, let alone how deep this shit goes.

I never should’ve left her. I was supposed to protect her. Instead, I let her get taken.

I swear to God, if they touch her—

“Got something,” Beast mutters.

I shove in beside him, watching as he pulls up security footage from the south edge of town. A black van rolls past the camera at 8:04 a.m.

“Zoom in.”

He does. Grainy but clear enough. The passenger window is down just enough for a face to be visible.

Guardrail .

My hands fist. “They’re holding her,” I whisper. “That sick bastard took her.”

“I’ll ping the tags,” Beast says. “Might take a few.”

“I’m not waiting.”

I storm back out.

I don’t even get on my bike—I head for the club house, where a meeting’s already started.

Rock looks up as I throw open the doors.

“Diesel—”

“They’ve got her,” I say. “Guardrail took her. Probably Langford too.”

The room stills.

“Where?” Rock asks.

“Don’t know yet. But I’ve got footage. Beast is working the plates.”

Prez steps forward. “Then we go dark. We pull every hand we’ve got, find her, and bring her home.”

I nod once. My throat is tight, but I force the words out anyway.

“If they touch her, I’m burning the whole fucking world down.”

Two hours later, we’ve got a location. A warehouse south of Jackson Ridge that Langford’s been seen entering a few times over the last month, off the grid. There are no cameras or businesses for blocks. Perfect for someone trying to hide a hostage.

Perfect for killing the bastards who took her.

We ride out in force. I’m in the lead.

The warehouse is exactly what I expected, gray and squat, surrounded by woods. There’s a black van parked outside, and two SoD bikes flanking it.

Jagger signals from the rear. “Two guards on the west side. Another by the entrance.”

“Quiet or loud?” I ask Rock.

“Your girl’s in there?” he says.

I nod.

“Then we go in quietly until we need to get loud. We’ll get her, D.”

The first guard doesn’t even see it coming. A knife to the throat. He crumples, gurgling.

Jagger moves next, taking out the second.

We breach the front door, guns drawn. Everything happens fast—screams, shots, bodies dropping.

I see her through a cracked doorway, tied to a chair. Head down. Shoulders slumped.

“ Willow! ”

Her head snaps up. “Diesel!” Her voice is hoarse, terrified.

Guardrail moves toward her like a shield. I lunge, tackle him hard. We hit the floor, fists flying. He’s strong, but I’m pissed. Rage fuels me.

He slams a fist into my jaw.

I pull my blade and drive it into his shoulder.

He screams.

I snarl, “Touch her again and I’ll end you.”

Rock yanks him off me, slamming him against the wall while I rush to Willow. Her eyes are wide. Tears streak her cheeks.

I cut the zip ties with shaking hands, and she collapses into me.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispers.

“Always,” I rasp, holding her tighter than I’ve ever held anything in my life. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Her hands fist in my cut, clinging like I’m her lifeline.