Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Wrath claps his hands once, sharp. “Listen up,” he says, voice carrying. “This is our town and our problem, but the Hellions rode in for her. That means we run this like one family until she’s home.”
A murmur of agreement rolls through the room. My chest tightens. Home. The word feels cruel right now. Grinder’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, then at his laptop, then at Wrath.
“We got something,” Grinder shares.
The room snaps to attention.
My heart stops and starts again like it can’t decide what to do. “What?” I bark.
Grinder turns the laptop so Wrath can see. “Traffic cam two miles east of the hospital caught a van rolling through at 5:58 a.m. It’s not clear enough for plates, but it’s a white cargo van with a dent on the rear quarter panel. It sits not far from her car, rolls out not far enough behind her. Looks like they tried to let her gap them. We lost them on the old country road, but it’s our best lead.”
My breath catches.
Wrath leans in. “You sure it’s connected?”
Grinder’s jaw tight. “Not sure. But it’s within the window, and it’s headed toward the same stretch of road where her car was found.”
I’m already moving. “Where does it go?”
Grinder shakes his head. “That’s the problem. Cameras thin out once you hit the backroads. Dove, call in your people.”
Wrath turns to one of his guys. “Get eyes on every white cargo van in town. Shop owners, gas stations, warehouses. Somebody saw something. Pound the pavement and get answers.”
The Saint’s Outlaws file out one at a time until we are left with about ten of them and the Hellions.
Grinder lifts a finger. “There’s more.”
My pulse spikes again. “Spit it out.”
He exhales. “I got into Reeves’ phone records deeper than just pings. He didn’t leave his house last night—wife’s phone corroborates, home Wi-Fi, all that. But he did receive a call at 12:11 a.m. from a burner number.”
My blood goes cold.
“Burner?” I repeat.
“Dove looked into it, true burner, bought in cash.” Grinder says. “The call lasted thirty-one seconds.”
Wrath’s eyes narrow. “And?”
“And the burner got used again this morning,” Grinder continues. “At 7:24 a.m. One outbound call to another prepaid. Sixty-two seconds.”
My vision tunnels. “That burner belongs to who?”
Grinder’s mouth twists. “I can’t tell you that yet. But I can tell you where it was.”
The room goes silent.
Grinder points at a map on the screen. “First call—Reeves’ inbound—originated from a tower near the hospital. Second call—this morning—originated from a tower near the spot where her car was dumped.”
My skin crawls.
They were there.
They were right there.
And they called Reeves.
Why? To taunt him? To use him? To check something? To make sure he’d look guilty? Or because Reeves is connected to someone connected—My mind tries to build a conspiracy out of thin air. I force it down.
Wrath’s voice is calm but edged. “Can you track the burner now?”
Grinder shakes his head. “It hasn’t lit up again.”
Smoke pushes off the wall. “Then we find the van. Dove is running the partial plate with his guy.”
Wrath nods once. “We find the van.”
I can’t stand the words. Find. Track. Wait. Danae is out there right now, and time is the enemy. I step closer to Grinder. “What about her phone?”
Grinder looks at me carefully. “Her phone went dark about the same time the car died.”
“They took it,” I state hoping it’s near her and will come back online soon.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Or it died with the car. But either way—no pings.”
I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache. “Then how do we—”
A crash of female laughter from the back room makes me flinch. Women who aren’t in this moment. Men who haven’t fallen in love with a woman they didn’t mean to love or drag into a world she was never meant to be in.
Wrath notices. “Miles,” he says, and his tone changes—less command, more grounded. “We’re gonna get her.”
My hands curl into fists. “You don’t know that.”
Wrath holds my stare. “I know what we do in this town when somebody takes one of ours.”
The word ours hits me like a blow. Because she is mine now. Not property in the traditional sense. Not possession. Something else. Something bigger.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
For one wild second I think it’s her. I yank it out so fast I nearly drop it.
Josie.
I answer without thinking. “Josie.”
Her voice is tight, controlled the way it gets when she’s scared but refusing to fall apart. “Miles. Grandpa’s okay.”
Relief slices through me so sharp I almost stagger.
“Where is he?” I demand.
“He’s got a neighbor who came over,” she says. “A deputy came by, they’re keeping someone with him and arranging caregivers from the home health company until I can get there and sort a better schedule.”
“Did he see anything?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“No,” she whispers. “He just keeps saying she didn’t come home. He thought he’d fallen asleep and missed her.”