Page 68 of Blood Revealed

One man in the tower stands between me and finding out where they’re taking my woman. If he doesn’t tell me what I need to know, he’ll damn well be wishing they’d left him backup. I pull my switchblade, flipping it open, and before he even knows what’s hit him, I’ve got the steel pressed against his throat, the blade so sharp, it’s already cutting through the skin.

“Fucking tell me what I need to know or die right here.” I’m not messing around.

The man stutters, “Wha-Wha-What do you need to know?” I can smell his fear.

“Who was on that plane, and where the fuck is it headed?”

“L-Logs,” he stutters. “It’s all there.” Stupid me, I think from all his stuttering and tears rolling down his face that I’m gonna give him a chance. I should’ve known better. The moment I drop my hand and the knife from his throat, the stupid fuck has the idea, theaudacity, to try to attack me.

I put a stop to that real quick by capturing his wrist to twist his arm unnaturally behind his back. Then flipping around, I take him by surprise, gripping the back of his neck and slamming his head face-first into the desk. The first crack doesn’t knock him out, but the second one does. There’s blood everywhere. My boots are a mess,dammit.

Before leaving, I check his pulse to make sure I didn’t kill the bastard, then snap off pictures of the logbook with my phone, hoping that when this guy eventually wakes up, he doesn’t remember a goddamn thing. And then I make my way down to Tommy.

We know where he’s heading now. The club has to call in reinforcements again because Escalante’s on the way to Texas, and from there, probably Mexico. I call Duke.

“Brother, where the fuck are you?” Duke screams into the line instead of answering.

“Tommy and I had a lead and we had to follow it. Was in touch with Chaos and Hero--this shit is bad, man. It’sbad.”

“How bad?” Duke asks.

“Trafficking. Right under our goddamn noses. He got Hannah—headed for Texas.”

“The Outcasts’re at the clubhouse; I’m hangin’ up. Callin’ Mad Man. See what he can do. He’s got to have connections.”

I don’t even say goodbye, just take off. Hannah has one shot. If we don’t get her this time, she’s most likely gone for good. Forever. And I will not accept that.

Tommy speeds back to Thornbriar. The whole way, I’m getting updates from the brothers while Tommy tries to get us back to the clubhouse as fast as possible. Before we reach the compound, though, we reroute. They’ve made arrangements for us to fly out at another airfield.

My brothers are already there when Tommy and I roll up. This is as far as he can go. As the brothers load onto the plane, Boss stops me, face serious. “We got more brothers movin’ out tonight along with the Outcasts. They’re meetin’ us soon as they can. Gonna get her back, brother. We’re gonna get her back.”

We sure as hell are because there is no other option. We get my wife back or I die trying.

The flight takes a couple hours and again it feels like I’m sitting around with my thumb shoved up my ass. I hate waiting. I especially hate waiting now. What the hell am I supposed to do, though? Feeling useless sucks.

Once we land, we’re met by the Outcasts, the Police and the FBI.

They forced a landing before Escalante’s plane could make it out of US airspace crossing over into Mexico. But by the time officers reached the plane, the pilot was dead with a bullet to his brain and Hannah was nowhere to be seen.

15.

Hannah

Oh,God. My head feels like it’s been set on fire, then run over by a cement truck, and then, I don’t know, crushed on a railway track under a train car, kind of all jumbled together.

I find it hard to even open my eyes. For a moment, I don’t remember anything until I do. When I open my eyes, I have to shield them from the bright sun shining down on me—not doing a thing to help my headache. It’s warm—blisteringly, blazingly warm. And I know in an instant I’m back in Texas. I’m a Texas girl born and bred; I’d know Texas sun anywhere.

We’ve already landed, and I’m sitting in the back of the car. The windows are tinted—well, the back ones are to keep the sun from shining in, but not to disguise anything. Which means I’m on Escalante’s home ground, where he doesn’t have to fear anyone or anything. Not the police. Not the Lords.

My door is ripped open by a massively large, brutish man, startling me. This isnotthe henchman who originally took me. This man looks angry and mean and hateful all rolled into one. He rips me from the car. He’s a soldier or at least dressed like one, wearing cargo pants and a T-shirt and boots—all gray. Escalante’s signature color for his staff with the exception of the driver of the car in Kentucky.

The man is heavily armed with some kind of automatic rifle, and a belt where he carries his grenades—yeah, grenades on a belt. Who carries grenades on a belt?

He doesn’t march me to the main house, he marches me out back to what looks like a horse stable. Inside the stable there’s a thick wall of plexiglass covering the opening to each of the stalls. Inside each stall is a young woman. They cringe and shrink into the corners as he passes. Even seeing me, they look fearful, which means he’s probably the man who takes them and leads them to wherever they’re being sold to. I’d bet my life on it.

At the end of the stable, he unlocks one of the walls of glass and shoves me inside. I fall down face-first into hay or straw, I don’t really know, using my hands to brace myself.

He waits, staring down at me, as if he’s waiting to see me cry. He’s not going to see me cry. I refuse to cry for him. After waiting a few beats, maybe three, and he doesn’t get the reaction that he wants, he glares his beady eyes at me and then turns away abruptly but not before locking the glass again. I think I just made an enemy.

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