Page 29 of A Biker for Noelle
“Want me to change my mind?” I continue walking, not looking back.
“You’re the best.” I hear the joy in her voice and almost crack a smile, but the weight of other business keeps it at bay.
“Rooster!” I shout, hoping to cut through the sound of an impact tool. He looks up from the hood of an old Chevy, wiping his hands on a rag.
“How’s it going, Prez?”
“Thought I’d swing by and see about the car.”
Rooster finishes wiping his hand and strolls across the room to the other bay area. He pulls the cover off the parked vehicle, revealing the new, sleek black Range Rover Sport SUV I bought for Noelle. As much as she wants to hold onto that beater of hers, it’s on its last legs, and fixing everything wrong with it isn’t worth the costs.
While inspecting the car, my phone rings, so I swipe the screen. “Talk to me,” I answer in my usual manner.
“Prez,” Brewer’s urgent voice makes my blood cold, and I immediately know something is wrong.
“Where’s Noelle?” I voice my only thought.
Brewer struggles to catch his breath. “They took her, Eazy. I turned around, and she was gone, so I went lookin’ for her and saw the back entrance door open. By the time I got out there…” He takes another deep breath and continues, “The moment I stepped outside, the van fled. I fired shots, and they retaliated by attempting to run me over.”
My stomach sinks. “Where are you now?” I look at Rooster, and he jumps into action, grabbing his keys, hot on my heels as I bolt, making my way out of the building and to my truck.
“In my car, trying like hell to catch sight of which direction they went.”
Rooster jumps into the cab as the engine starts. “What is the vehicle description?” I question as my tires lose traction, spinning against the snow-covered parking lot as I press my foot into the gas.
“Black van with Texas license plates,” Brewer supplies.
I think about the safety of my mother and Zack. “Get a hold of the others and tell them to hit the streets. I want these fuckers found before they leave Ember Falls.” I end the call while turning my truck toward home. “Get a hold of Poet,” I bark at Rooster while calling my mom. It rings several times before going to her voicemail. “Shit!” I glance at my brother.
“He’s not pickin’ up, Prez.”
Their not answering the phone adds to the knot forming in my gut. The twenty minutes it takes me to reach my mom’s place feels like an eternity. I’m drowning in the silence filling the truck’s cab.
Finally, the truck speeds down the long road past my house until we reach my mom’s. Leaving the engine running, I jump out of the truck and rush up the porch, pulling my gun from the holster and arming myself on the way. The front door is partially open, leading to the inevitable realization that someone has entered the home. Rooster draws his weapon and proceeds to make his way around to the back of the house.
I cautiously push against the front door to open it more, but I’m met with resistance. I shove harder, budging it open another few inches, and step inside. Behind the door, lying on his side is Poet. “Fuck,” I hiss. Kneeling, I reach down, checking for his pulse, finding one. I close the front door, not needing any surprise coming up behind me, and roll Poet to look for injuries, and he groans.Shit.He took one hell of a beating. My brother’s face is a bloody mess. “Sorry, brother. I need to leave you here and find Ma.”
He slowly moves, bringing his hand to the back of his head, and when he pulls it away, his palm is painted red. Poet’s eyes flutter open. Confusion lingers before dread overtakes his battered and swollen face. His breath comes out in ragged gasps.“Prez…” he croaks. “I tried to stop them…” he says, and a weight presses down on me. “They took your Ma and the kid.”
Knowing that they have my mom, too, has me descending into a much darker place than I was before, and the desperate need to hunt down and kill every motherfucker involved tightens around my throat in a chokehold.
Rooster appears. “Shit.” He takes in the battered body of our brother, then looks at me. “No signs of your Ma and the kid.”
“They’re not here. Those bastards took them, too.”
Rooster’s expression hardens at my words. His phone pings, and he pulls it from his pocket. He taps the screen a few times. “Prez, you need to see this.” He passes the phone to me, and I glance down at the screen, where he has logged into the bar’s security feed. I play the feed from an earlier recording from the camera at the back of the bar’s entrance.
My heart is hammering its way out of my chest, dread clawing at my insides as I watch the screen. My stomach coils, spotting Noelle step out the back door with a trash bag in her hand. A black van rolls up as her back is turned while tossing the bag into the dumpster. Suddenly, the van’s back doors open, and masked men jump out.
I grip the phone.
White knuckles.
There inside the van, being held by a man wearing a black mask, is Zack, squirming like a trapped rabbit, his wrists, ankles, and mouth bound, but there are no signs of my mom. Noelle willingly climbs into the van. The men who jumped out clamber back inside behind her. At that moment, Brewer comes into the frame. He reaches for his weapon and aims at the windshield. The van lurches forward, clipping Brewer and knocking him off his feet as they speed away.
I stand. “Dammit!” I growl, pounding my fist into a wall as anger rushes through me and dread grips my throat. My fistsclench to the point where my fingernails dig into my flesh. With each tick of the clock, the further these motherfuckers get, the harder it becomes to find Noelle and Zack. My body feels heavy, like a lead weight dragging me beneath the water’s surface, as the need to find my family presses down on me. The room is shrouded in an unsettling, suffocating silence while the tumultuous undertow of thoughts pulls me under.
I let them down.
