Page 28 of Royal's Reign
“Shut the fuck up Ink.” I steady my voice despite the volcano of fear, pain and anger that’s simmering within me. “You’re not to blame. There’s only one person who can take responsibility for…”
The doors fly open once more. Boulder and Banshee are ahead of the pack, the rest following and moving to their designated seats. Grinder is last to enter the room and turns ready to close the door behind him, but we have one member missing.
“Where’s Quarter?” I ask looking directly at Grinder.
“He’s yet to respond to the message, so not sure.”
“Well, seeing as he’s the only one AWOL, we might as well proceed.”
“Ink, what the fuck you doing here?” Hammer pipes up.
“Yeah,” Junk joins in, “Get the hell out of here.”While the others grunt out their agreement. I catch Ink’s eye and give him a quick shake of my head, telling him to stay exactly where he is.
“He’s here because, along with Nytro, he saw them take Grinder’s sister.” I shout over the noise of my brothers. The room instantly becomes silent, only solidifying the reason why I’m the president of this club. Any doubts that I don’t hold the respect of every single one of these guys, quickly forgotten.
“Now, Ink. Start from when you left here with Nytro after telling us that Giorgia had gone.”
Between them, Nytro and Ink verbally replay out the events, right to where Giorgia had waved and looked to be about to cross over to where they were, until a Ford van pulled up where she’d been about to step out. It had obscured their view of Giorgia.
“At first, I thought it was just a delivery van making a drop off,” Nytro explained. “But when it pulled away, there was no sight of Giorgia. She’d gone.”
“There wasn’t anyone else hanging around, the buildings around all closed up, so she must have been grabbed and put into the van.” Ink added.
“Did you get eyes on the driver?” I ask, hoping that we at least have something to go on other than a black ford transit van.
“Only that it was a dude, dark hair, think he was wearing glasses, but can’t be sure,” Nytro is the one to give up this information. “I did get the first few letters of the number plate. LJ… I think the last digit was a seven or maybe a nine. It had an orange on it too, so pretty sure it’s a Florida plate.”
“Fuck,” I grunt out. “Ink, can you get that to Forger, I know it’s only a partial, but he’s a fucking wizard. He might be able to narrow it down to a few possibly ID’s.”
“Sure,” Ink stands.
“You did good Ink, you hear me?” He gives me a quick nod of understanding, and then blurts out a sincere apology to Grinder, but his face is still shrouded with guilt.
He leaves, closing the door securely behind him, clear that as a prospect, he is no longer welcome in chapel. As the latch clicks into place, I suddenly shift in my seat, the vibration of my phone still sat in my breast pocket making me jump.
This time I check the caller ID, fearing that it could be Giorgia’s abductor laying down a threat, a deal or even a ransom. Quarter flashes up so I stab the button and bring it to my ear.
“Where are you?”
“Keeping tabs on Giorgia.”
“You know where she is?” I almost choke out the words as I try to curb the emotion in my voice as relief at least having eyes on her gives me. “Let me put you on speaker, we’re all here.”
“I was pulling around the corner a block up from where the van pulled up. Saw them snatch Grinder’s sister and bundle her into the van.” Various brothers start to mumble.
“Shut the fuck up and listen,” Boulder, in his position of Sergent at Arms, reprimands. “Go on Quarter.”
“Followed them out and on to the I245 South, towards St. Petersburg. Kept ongoing until they pulled up outside this fucking place, Jesus must be worth a few million dollars.”
“Did you get eyes on her?” Grinder leans over the tabletop to get as close to the phone as physically possible.
“Didn’t get a good look. Didn’t want to get too close, but it was a female one of them was carrying in a firefighter style. Am I able to say one hundred percent it was her? No, but I never lost sight of the van, so who else could it be?”
“Address.” I demand.
“Can’t see the number, but you can’t miss it. It’s the big Spanish looking pad with its own land and driveway shore side, right at the end of west Longfield Avenue. Sunset Beach.”
“Jesus, that mega buck’s city,” Creep blows out a puff of air. “With that kinda place, he’s gone have some high-end security.”
