Page 61 of Rox

Thirty

Mimic

Imake my way up to the house. She needs to be here. If she isn’t, I don’t know what I’m going to do. The other guys may as well find her, but I want to be the one who does. I need to be. I’m hers. I’m her protector, but because I failed at that, I need to be her savior.

“I swear to fuck, if the vans here, but they’re already gone.”

No one’s around, but I whisper it anyway. My fear escaping me.

The simple ranch home has construction debris all over the lawn and the driveway. Judging by the overgrowth and the condition of the material, no one has touched anything out here in a long time. There’s no debris on the front porch or the walkway—like someone’s been caring for the property in some manner. I look around, and the neighbors are close enough to hear someone screaming for help. But from what I can see, no one’s windows are open, so I doubt anyone saw anything.

It’s a perfect hideaway for whatever he has planned.

I’m hyper-aware of everything and keeping my head on a swivel. I’m hoping that I see her right away when I walk through the door. That I can just grab her and leave. But there are questions that need to be answered, and he needs to pay for what he’s done.

I reach the front door, and while it would be simple to walk right in, something doesn’t sit right.

As much as I wish it, he wouldn’t make it so easy to walk in and grab the object of his obsession. Leaving the porch, I make my around the house, trying to look through windows, but every single one is covered in some sort of paper. I’m right back to where I started. How many fucking minutes have I wasted when I could have just opened the goddamn door in the first place?

Reaching for the door, I hear footsteps coming up fast. I reach into my cut for my gun and curse myself for leaving it in the saddle bag of my bike. I was in such a hurry to get here that I didn’t re-holster it. I spin, ready to fight, when I see Prez and Cowboy crouching and making their way to the house. I wave them over to my spot beside the front.

“What have you learned? Is she in there?” Prez’s eyes are dark. The demon I have become acquainted with is trying to break free, but Prez is keeping his head about him.

“All the windows are covered, and it seems the only way in and out is through the front door. Only his van is here. I’m hoping he wasn’t smart enough to have taken her to another location. But the front door just seems too simple. Like it’s a trap.” I look from them to the door again. I know they’ve led their own ops with the MC in their years as president. They should have a better clue on how to deal with this.

“When life hands you lemons,” Prez starts.

“You break down the fucking door,” Cowboy finishes.

Prez and I step aside as Cowboy slowly turns the handle until the distinct click of it unlatching. There wasn’t a typical creak ofan older door. It opened smoothly, which only raised more red flags in my head.

We split up once we’re inside. She could be in any one of the rooms. I head down a small hall that opens to a larger room, and there, in the middle of the room, I see her. Blood’s smeared on the floor around her and on her body.

Holy shit.

“Baby,” I whisper. I rush toward her, hoping she’s alive. She’s beaten to hell. He attempted to kill her, and when he didn’t succeed, he thought he’d try again with his hands.

When I look up, bile rises in my throat. Pictures. It isn’t paper. It’s pictures that paint the windows of this room. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures are pasted all over the walls and roof and even scattered on the floor. They all have one thing in common.

Angel.

Pictures of Angel taken candidly over a long period of time.

Anyone photographed with him either had their faces scribbled on with a red X or Duncan’s face pasted over theirs.

There are many of Angel and a woman, but Duncan pasted his face over all of them. There are even more intimate ones, too, where the woman is kissing Angel, but Duncan’s made it seem like he was the one holding him in an embrace. I can tell from the clothes and body it isn’t Rox.

I feel sick.

If he is this obsessed with Angel, why is he going after and trying to kill Rox?

“Oh, Roxie. You ready for more, you fucking bitch?” I hear from the other room. I stand up and turn toward his voice, standing at my full height. My chest is puffed out, and I’m barely containing my rage, but I need him to see me. I need him to see his life is about to end.

Duncan walks into the room but skids to a stop when he sees me. His bulging eyes tell me he wasn’t expecting company.

“You mother fucker,” I grit out, and I’m on him before he can react.

I don’t know why he took her. I don’t know why he did what he did, and I don’t care. He’s a damn dead man, and I can’t wait until he’s no longer breathing.

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