Exquisite Karma (Iron Horse MC Book 4) (25 page)

Instead of being frightened, I smiled back at him. “Promise?”

A few hours later, my world imploded.

Beach broke the news to me that Smoke and Swan had been kidnapped from the parking lot of the airport. Julia’s minivan had been stolen and she’d arrived late at the terminal, only to find Smoke and Swan gone. We’d searched for them, then an informant told us Los Diablos had them. I was ready to invade every single one of their homes and scorch the Earth until I found my sister and the man she loved, even though the Los Diablos protested that they didn’t have them.

My beautiful, sweet sister who had just found love had been kidnapped.

I was sick with rage at the thought of some depraved asshole having her and my heart ached like I’d been hit in the chest with a mallet.

Beach stared at me from across the big table in the conference room, then glanced behind me. Two big men suddenly flanked me on either side but I ignored them, waiting for my fiancé to give me word on my family. The desperate need to vent my rage on the people guilty of taking her burned through me, and I wanted so badly to just leave and do my own thing, but I couldn’t. I was shackled by both my word and my child.

That didn’t mean I was happy about Beach’s refusal to attack Los Diablos at their clubhouse.

Hustler leaned over and murmured in my ear, “Listen to me, Sarah, please. Attacking Los Diablos is a trap.”

His words startled me enough that I stopped glaring at Beach while fingering the big knife strapped to my belt and turned my attention to him.

Hulk stood at Hustler’s side and when I glanced at him, he nodded slowly. “Listen to the man, sweetheart.”

I burned with frustration for action, but I’d heard from Beach how Hustler’s instincts would have saved him from endangering his men, if he’d only listened. You can say many things about the differences between men and women, how we think and act, but one thing is for sure—in general, women are better listeners. We pay attention to people when they speak, dissecting their body language in a way men usually don’t. Plus, despite his asshole sense of humor, Hustler was wicked smart. His usual joking persona had been burned away by the harsh reality of Veronica’s death, revealing the serious man beneath all those teasing smiles.

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Hustler smile once since I’d returned. Not even at the announcement of my pregnancy.

Drawn out of my crippling worry for my sister, I paid more attention to Hustler as he pulled me into the corner of the room, away from everyone. Hulk stood a few steps away with his arms crossed over his chest, looking every inch the intimidating biker that he was. Since I’d seen him last he’d gotten new ink, but his skin was so dark it almost seemed to absorb the intricate pattern, then reveal it as his muscles flexed and the light hit his smooth skin. Seeing the Iron Horse MC patch on his back brought me back into focus and I realized I wasn’t handling myself that well.

In fact, I think I might be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Swan…they could be touching her right now, breaking her spirit merely by placing their hand on her bare arm.

I almost started sobbing, but a tiny baby foot kicked me from the inside, or I had a gas bubble, and I pulled my shit together.

Placing my hand over my stomach, I jerked when a distinct little body part pressed against my palm and Hustler gently grabbed my arm. “You okay?”

“Yes.” I gave him a tired smile, then took his hand and placed it on my abdomen where my little one was moving. “She’s kicking.”

The dark sadness in Hustler’s eyes lifted as his gaze met mine and she gave my belly a good thump. “
Jesucristo
. You have a feisty little girl in there.”

“Get your hands off my woman,” Beach growled out from nearby with barely contained fury.

I wanted to kick him in the ass for making the small amount of happiness in Hustler’s hazel eyes vanish, darkening them again and making me sad. “He’s feeling the baby kick.”

Right away, Beach shouldered Hustler out of the way, his anger forgotten as he placed his hands reverently on my belly and whispered, “Hey,
chiquita
, it’s your daddy. How’s my beautiful girl doin’?”

I wanted to stay mad at him and wished our daughter would ignore him for being a jerk, but she gave him a couple good punches that made his face light up in the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.

My heart melted even as I scolded myself for letting him distract me from being pissed. “Any word?”

The baby had finally settled, but he kept his hands on me as he looked up, the smile fading. “Your dad and Mimi are on their way, but they were in Russia when I spoke to them.”

I blinked. “Russia?”

“Yeah. Had some meetings.” I gripped his wrists and he shook his head. “Nothing bad, at all. Said they were visiting personal friends.”

Closing my eyes, I tried to calm myself before I said, “What about Swan? Did you find out anything?”

“No.”

The fear I’d been holding back burst through me and I started to cry, hot tears falling from my closed eyelids and dripping down my face. Beach stood then gathered me into his arms, holding me close and kissing the top of my head over and over. I clung to him, crying without shame as my emotions overwhelmed me. Through it all, he rocked me in his arms, wrapping himself around me and giving my poor battered heart a place to heal. My sobs wound down to sniffles and I gave Hulk a pathetic smile as he handed me a bunch of bright white tissues.

Beach took a step back as I blew my nose, repeatedly, the corner of his mouth lifting as I honked.

“Shut up,” I said in a thick voice. “I’m an ugly crier.”

“Nothin’ you do could be ugly,” Beach replied with such gentleness that it brought tears to my eyes again.

My phone started to ring and I almost ignored it, but pulled it out when I saw Hustler and Beach having a low conversation together.

The number was unfamiliar but I answered it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Sarah!” Swan sobbed on the other end of the line.

For a moment my fingers went numb, then I screamed, “Swan? Oh my God, Swan! Where are you?”

“I don’t know. I need help. Mom’s dead, I don’t know where Smoke is, and there are bad guys on their way.”

My stomach lurched and I barely forced out the words, “Mom’s dead?”

“Yeah. She OD’d.”

Beach snatched my phone away and I sagged against Hulk, my body numb.

Death had finally caught up with my mom and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

I focused on Beach’s tense face as he gripped my phone tight. “Swan, where are you?”

He listened for a moment, repeating what she said to Hustler, who’d grabbed a pen and a notepad from somewhere and was writing shit down.

“Help’s on its way,” Beach said in a tight voice. “You just stay alive and we’ll find you. Do you know who took you?”

Whatever she said hit Beach like a punch, because he physically flinched, then started to freak out.

A moment later he was yelling at Swan not to go, then cursing more.

He looked at Hustler, the rage in his expression freaking even
me
out. “Cruz is a traitor. He’s the one who picked them up at the airport then delivered them to someone named

Chief.”

Hustler stared at Beach like he was crazy. “Cruz?”

“Yeah.” He thrust the phone at Hustler. “Get Dragon on this, I need the location where this call is coming from,
now
. She kept the phone on and hid it where it can’t be seen, so keep it on mute just in case anyone can hear it. Got me?”

“On it.”

“Hulk,” Beach barked out.

“Yo,” he said from behind me as he briskly rubbed my arms.

“Take care of my woman.”

“Wait,” I managed to spit out even though I was beginning to tremble. “I’m going with you.”

The hard look he gave me had me biting my lip. “You’re staying here, in the panic room, with Hulk.”

“But—”

Grasping my chin with one hand, he lowered his face to mine. “You. Are. Staying. Here. Do not fight me on this, Sarah. The more of my time you waste, the longer it’ll take to find your sister and my brother.”

I wanted to argue, but he was right.

Not long afterward, they took off, at least thirty men, all armed to the teeth and heading forty miles south of Austin—while I sat in a steel box with Hulk.

It was comfortable in there, had a couch and some easy chairs, as well as a cot and a small kitchen. The safe room was located on the ground floor, behind the kitchen and next to what we called the infirmary. One whole wall of the twenty-by-thirty-foot room was filled with monitors that showed different cameras all over the clubhouse. I was antsy as could be, with no outlet for my nerves, so I constantly surfed through the different cameras to try to get some idea of what was happening out there. Right now it was a whole lotta nothing, just guys talking but the cameras weren’t positioned for me to read their lips other than the occasional word.

Hulk was silent, stretched out on the couch while he watched the monitors with me.

The men had been gone for over two hours by now, and I was frustrated by the complete lack of communication.

“Would it kill him to call me?” I griped as I spun around on the wheeled, high-back leather chair set up before the monitors.

“Just might,” Hulk said in a mellow voice.

I stuck my tongue out at him, making him chuckle. “He could be dead right now.”

“Or he could be alive, Debbie Downer.” The corners of his eyes crinkled and he cracked his neck. “Come on, little mama, take a load off. Rest. I know when my ex was pregn…”

He trailed off and I wanted to slap myself in the forehead for not being more sensitive to the fact that Hulk had lost his daughter not too long ago. His dipshit ex-wife drove wasted with their little girl in the car and got in an accident. Ex survived, little girl did not. I could not imagine the devastation he felt every day without someone else’s pregnancy being thrown in his face.

Tears welled in my eyes and Hulk abruptly sat up. “Sarah, you okay?”

I didn’t want to bring up sad memories for him, so I sniffed out, “I hate being so emotional. This isn’t me! I don’t cry like this. Yesterday I lost it over a freaking ice cream commercial featuring a gay married couple. It was so sweet; they were sharing a shake that looked really yummy.”

More tears came at the memory of how cute the commercial was while Hulk laughed. “Shit, woman, you’re gonna drive Beach insane. Glad I’ll be around to watch.”

I wiped at my eyes with some tissue I grabbed from the box on the small table, then blew my nose. “We’re happy to have you here, Hulk, really. Beach said you have a brother nearby?”

“Yeah, lives down by Waco with his wife and my nephews.”

“Well, that’ll be nice to visit them.”

He gave me a tight smile. “We’re different men, got along like oil and water as kids, but maybe we’ve grown up enough to be around each other without constantly fighting.”

My phone rang with the song I’d assigned for Beach, “A Whole Lotta Love” by Led Zeppelin, and my skin tingled.

“Hello?”

Beach’s deep voice rolled into my ear. “Baby, we found them. They’re hurt, Smoke’s been tortured, but they’re alive and on their way to the hospital.”

I have no idea what else he said because my mind had had enough and I fainted.

My sister lay in her hospital bed sleeping while I held her hand. It was a few days since they’d brought her in suffering from a gunshot wound to her leg bad enough that she would always walk with a limp. She’d been shot while shoving Smoke out of a fucking second-story window, from a burning barn—then dived out after him. This was all after our…our late mother shot Swan full of heroine.

My skin crawled at the thought of what my sister had been subjected to and I forced those negative thoughts from my mind.

Mimi was a firm believer in a positive attitude in the sickroom, so anyone who was hanging out with Swan, or Smoke in the bed next to hers had to check their sorrow at the door. Swan had thrown a fit about seeing Smoke and Beach had quickly gotten Smoke and Swan into a private room together. I think he was a little scared of Swan, which only made me even more proud, because it turns out Beach was right, we didn’t give Swan enough credit. Beneath her innocence lay a hardened warrior who would do whatever was necessary to save her man and family.

Thank goodness, because the bastard who had taken her, the man known as Chief, had tortured Smoke to within an inch of his life. He lay in the bed behind me, sleeping heavily. They’d cut him, burned him, beaten him, had broken bones, but he’d survived. Swan had freed him in time to save his life, but he’d always bear the scars of his time in captivity.

The only thing we knew about Chief was it appeared he was the source of the attacks against the club, and that he went to great lengths to disguise himself, all the way down to his voice. That meant he was either insanely careful, or he was a public figure among Iron Horse—a brother people would recognize. I honestly had no idea who he was, but I made had my suspicions.