The roar of my bike echoes through the streets as I roll into Tourmaline, victorious from our mission in Vegas. The sun is setting, casting a fiery orange glow on the asphalt beneath Dirt and me. As we pull up to the Savage Angels MC clubhouse, the rest of the club spills out, cheering and slapping our backs. I can feel their respect for me like a palpable energy, but none of it matters if I can’t get in touch with Kat.
“Fuck!” I mutter under my breath, staring at my phone.
No missed calls.
No texts.
Nothing.
“Hey, Prez,” Bear shouts over the commotion, “You good?”
“Can’t reach Kat.” My voice is tight with worry, barely audible over the din.
“Shit.” He frowns, understanding my unease.
“Everybody, inside,” I bark, waving my hand toward the clubhouse.
The party can wait—priorities first.
“Sorry, brother. Gotta make a call,” I say to Dirt as I stalk away, heading for some privacy. “Kat, pick up, darlin’.” Ringing. Voicemail. “Goddammit.” I redial her number again. “Come on, come on.” Another try. Same result. “Fuck!” The word shoots out like a bullet, anger and worry mingling in one potent cocktail.
I run my fingers through my long, dark hair, feeling the sweat bead on my forehead. I need to hear her voice to know she is okay.
“Pick up, Kat. Please.” Just ringing. Empty air on the other end. “Where the fuck are you?” I whisper, desperation creeping in.
The weight of uncertainty bears down on me, drowning out the laughter and celebration erupting from within the clubhouse.
“Dammit, Kat, answer the phone.” I try her number again, pacing my room like a caged animal. Voicemail. “Darlin’, it’s Dane. Call me back as soon as you can. I need to know you’re safe.”
I send a string of texts, each more frantic than the last, but nothing comes back. No comforting words, no acknowledgment. Just silence.
“Fuckin’ hell,” I mutter, slamming my fist against the wall. My knuckles throb, but the pain is nothing compared to the gnawing fear in my gut.
“Dane?” a voice interrupts my turmoil. Judge stands in the doorway, his wiry frame exuding calm. “Salvatore has been trying to call you.”
Flicking through my contacts, I dial Salvatore, who answers on the first ring. “Dane?”
“Do you know where Kat and my children are?”
“Tony has them.”
Tony is Sal’s personal security and was sent to Hawaii to keep an eye on our loved ones.
“What the hell is going on? Where’s Kat?”
“Tony didn’t want to take any chances. He thought he recognized some of Don Abruzzi’s men, so he moved everyone. They’re safe.” At his words, I sag onto my bed. “He’s got them stashed in a safe house. They’re fine, Dane, I promise.”
“Then why the fuck isn’t she answering my calls?” I snap, frustration bubbling to the surface.
“Tony wanted to keep things on the down-low, make sure nobody could track them. He made them ditch their phones. I’m sorry, Dane. I should’ve called you sooner.”
“Damn right, you should’ve,” I growl, trying to steady my breathing. “Get me a secure line to talk to her, Sal. And I mean now.”
“Of course,” he replies, his voice firm and resolute. “I’ll try to set it up as soon as possible, but I need Tony to ring me as even I don’t know where they are. You’re not the only one wanting to hear your wife’s or children’s voices.”
“Sorry, Sal, and thank you.” I nod, letting out a heavy sigh.
At least Kat is safe.
That’s something.
Ending the call, I fall back on the bed and rub my throbbing temples. My world is spinning out of control, but one thing remains constant—my burning need to protect those I love.
“Whatever it takes,” I vow to myself, my determination hardening. “No matter the cost.”
***
Dammit! I can’t shake the nagging feeling that something is off.
My gut churns with worry as I pace the clubhouse, my boots thudding heavily against the worn wooden floor. Kat’s silence gnaws at me, eating away my resolve like a persistent parasite.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, pulling out my phone again. No new messages, no missed calls—nothing. My frustration peaks, and I slam my fist into the nearest wall, the sharp pain momentarily distracting me from the relentless uncertainty.
“Prez, you all right?” Dirt appears in the doorway, his face creased with concern. He stands tall despite the ache in his shoulder. His loyalty to the club is unwavering, even in the face of his pain.
“Still can’t get a hold of Kat,” I spit, shoving my phone back into my pocket. “Somethin’ ain’t right.”
“Maybe she’s just busy, Dane,” suggests Jonas, trying to ease my mind.
But I know better. Kat always makes time for our calls, no matter how hectic her schedule gets.
“Judge, Bear, Jonas, get your asses in here,” I bark as I stalk into the chapel, our meeting room, with Dirt following close behind.
I’m unwilling to waste any more time. The men hurry in, their expressions a mix of attentiveness and apprehension.
“Prez?” Judge asks, his wiry frame is tense and ready for action.
“Have you heard from Jasmin?” Judge shakes his head. “Find out anything you can about their whereabouts. I don’t care if you have to scour the goddamn island. We need eyes on her,” I order, my voice steely with resolve. “I mean all of them.”
“Already on it, Prez,” Bear replies, his newly slimmed-down figure betraying none of the exhaustion I know he must feel. “I’ve got contacts working on the ground in Hawaii. They’ll keep us in the loop.”
“Good.” I nod, trying to rein in my growing unease. “I need to know she’s safe.”
“Hey,” Jonas lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find her and the others. We’re all worried.”
