Page 65 of Devil's Marker

Boss stopped what he was doing and leveled a stare at Win. “Bring it. Close the door.”

“They have Robin.”

Boss visibly paled before Win’s eyes. He knew Boss and Zipper had been friends, brothers of a sort, for a long time. Their daughters had grown up together and were still close. Obviously.

Win couldn’t tell if Boss was imagining how he’d feel if it was R.C., or if he was trying to figure out how he was going to tell Zipper, or both.

“How long ago?”

“We can get the exact time off the feed, but it was around eleven thirty.”

Boss looked at his watch. “Three and a half hours ago.” His eyes came back to Win’s. “We got a chance. We’re gonna light that little fucker up.”

Win nodded.

Boss stood up and headed for the door.

Win stepped back to the security room. “I need the license number of Robin’s car.” Catcher looked at him with curiosity. Win shook his head. “Don’t ask, brother. Just give it to me.”

Catcher ran the feed to three frames before the car came to a stop. Because of the curved angle of the drive, the car’s front end was facing one of the cameras for a fraction of a second. Enough to get the plate.

Win grabbed a scratch pad and wrote it down. “Thanks.”

He walked out to where the bikes were parked. With the light from his phone, he used the key to open the saddlebag on the left and felt around for the release of the fake bottom compartment Arnold had designed to hide the burner phone.

Instructions were clear. He was supposed to use the phone only once, to alert the Ranger to an imminent situation that would require massive law enforcement attention. Brant had told him that, in a serious situation, the state would either send the entire National Guard or one Ranger.

Win was supposed to make that call to the Ranger as he was headed out on a one-way trip back to the SSMC. But he wasn’t calling the Ranger. He was calling his own prez. Who was probably sound asleep.

That was confirmed when he heard Brant’s gravelly, and sleepy, “Yeah?”

“Need you to do somethin’, prez. And it can’t wait.”

After a slight hesitation, Win heard Brant’s voice sound a little clearer. “Okay. I’m sittin’ up. What is it?”

“Don’t have time to tell the whole story. That rival club? Stars & Bars? They’re slavers. And they got the Marauder V.P.’s daughter.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Little less than four hours ago. Took her from a club in her own car and I got the license plate. We’re workin’ this on our end. Can you pass this along and get the cops to look for the car?”

“I can. Win, you gettin’ involved?”

“No, sir. I’m not gettin’ involved. I am involved. Didn’t want it that way. It just happened.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. On the other thing. Comin’ to a head. Next call, I’ll be on my way back.”

“Got a cut waitin’ for you. Take care.”

“Yeah.”

CHAPTER Twelve

Zip waited for Nate Cramer to stop screaming. They’d learned the guy’s name, but not a lot that would be extremely helpful to the problem at hand.

Zipper’s voice was colder than ice when he leaned down into Nate Cramer’s bloody face, eyes already swollen almost shut. “Nothin’ on the human body hurts worse than a shattered knee.” Cramer let out a hiccupping sob at that. “I guess you don’t like this. Bein’ held against your will. Somebody else havin’ complete discretion and dominion over you and your body. Kinda like the women you sell, huh?”

---