Seth walked away from the cabin, long steps carrying him toward his bike. What the hell had gotten into him? What was so damned attractive about Nikki? He couldn’t put his finger on it. Pity? The last thing Nikki would want was for someone to pity her. She’d probably throat punch them even for the thought. No, the attraction stemmed from more than that. She was going through a tough time, but there was fire inside her, heat that drew Seth to her like a moth to the flame. There was something else between them, too. An underlying tension that he’d felt since that moment she’d kicked him in the balls back at the warehouse. Did she feel it, too? Damn it. He kicked the dust with his boot. He couldn’t waste time worrying about regrets. It happened, he couldn’t undo it—not that he wanted to—but he had a job to do. He straddled his bike and shoved the key into the ignition, his thoughts focused—

“Hold up, Sticks.”

He glanced up as Doc quickly approached. “What?”

“I’m going with you.”

“The hell you are,” he muttered. He had no issues with Doc, but this was personal business, and he didn’t need any company.

Doc gestured over his shoulder. “Levi gave the order.”

“Why?” Seth frowned. Levi had ordered Doc to accompany him? He shook his head, scowling at the younger man. “What’s going on?”

Doc offered a grin and a shrug. “The boss man tells me to go, I go. If you’ve got a problem with it, take it up with him.”

Seth sighed as Doc strode toward his Harley, an older version, nothing fancy, pretty much off the floor with standard seat, handlebars, and mufflers. Doc was a good kid, maybe five years younger than Seth. No one ever called him by his real name here. Not many even knew it. Hunter Cohen was one of the newer members of the motorcycle club, having arrived about a year ago, not long after Grady joined the club. Another misfit. The only thing in his past that Seth knew about—and he wasn’t sure if anyone else other than Levi did—was that Doc had left his medical training during his first-year residency, after he’d graduated from medical school “with distinction,” whatever that meant. Seth wasn’t sure what had happened to make Doc run. He did know that medical school cost a lot of money, and it was a shame that all of that had gone to waste.

Of course, Doc’s skills came in handy, and except for the most serious injuries, he took care of things here at the compound. Seth had even given him a small office space downstairs in the main saloon, where barrels and bottles of liquor used to be stored. Seth had looked in at it from the doorway once or twice. The kid had found an old roll-top desk that he’d shoved into the corner, right out of the Old West. Inside the cramped space stood an exam table—where the hell Doc had gotten that he didn’t know and didn’t care—and enough supplies and medical instruments to lift his eyebrows. He’d shaken his head. They all had secrets. Secrets that they held on tight to. Secrets that—

“Where we going?”

Seth scowled. He didn’t want company. He wanted to go back to the warehouse where the Jokers had taken Nikki, and he wanted to do it alone. As vice president, he knew better, but fuck the rules. Once in a while, you had to break them. Or die trying. He needed to figure out why they had taken her. Why that was so important to him, he didn’t know. Why he didn’t want to let her go? He didn’t know that, either. Even so, she couldn’t have been kidnapped over a chop shop, could she? Obviously, the guy who ran the shop believed that she’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to, and it was just as obvious that he had connections to the Jokers or they wouldn’t have kidnapped her in the first place.

He needed to think. He’d been distracted by the sight of her body wrapped around his, the sounds she made as she got off on his fingers, but now he’d managed to tear himself away from her luscious bare skin, the whole thing had only heightened his need to know what the hell was going on. Who was she? What did she have to do with the Jokers? What was she hiding from him? And she was hiding something. Of that he had no doubt. None whatsoever.

Fuck it. Doc was still standing there. Looked like there was no way of getting out of this one. He straddled his bike. “Back to the warehouse,” he said, leaning forward over his tank to turn the key.

Doc frowned. “The warehouse? You mean where you guys ambushed the Jokers and found her?” He gazed pointedly at the cinderblock cabin. “And what are you going to do about her anyway?”

Seth gave Doc a shrug, started his bike, and took off, dust and gravel flying. He bounced over the dirt in the parking lot, sitting light in the saddle. The familiar sensation already had him feeling more comfortable than he had in hours, even after he’s gotten his rocks off with Nikki. His thoughts kept returning to that, to the soft feel of her skin beneath his fingers, the way she had responded to him . . . his dick half rose in interest just at the memory. He shook his head roughly, focusing on his task.

The asphalt passed beneath his feet in a blur, the plains extending as far as the eye could see. The sun had begun to set, casting the landscape into varying shades of purple. He probably should have waited until morning, but something nagged at him. He couldn’t identify what it was, but he had to do something—and away from her. The longer he stayed with Nikki, the more dangerous things would become. Not for her, but for him. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a woman. Even a passionate, beautiful woman like Nikki. Those secrets . . . secrets that could get him into trouble. Trouble that he didn’t need.

The air blew hot against his face and tugged at his clothing. He squinted against the wind, hearing nothing but the roar of his engine beneath him, and a short distance behind him, the distinct and lower rumble of Doc’s motorcycle. He didn’t need a babysitter. He’d known that Levi had insisted that the anyone riding outside of official club events go out in pairs while the Jokers were still causing problems. But he’d never thought that applied to him, too. And Grady? They could take care of themselves, and Levi knew that.

Sure, tensions had grown between the club and the Jokers, but Seth wasn’t afraid of them. Fucking cowards ran in small packs. Rarely did you see a Joker out alone or even with a buddy. Nevertheless, he didn’t need someone watching his every move.

He had his gun tucked into his waistband, and he was sure that Doc carried as well. Still, when it came to experience, Seth was more than capable of taking care of himself. Doc? He wasn’t sure. The younger man had never been really tested and hadn’t directly engaged the Jokers since he’d arrived. In fact, though Doc rode with the club when they were out in the group, he rarely ventured anywhere by himself. Why was that?

Seth forced distracting thoughts from his mind and rode for roughly twenty miles out into the plains, the two-lane asphalt road damaged by last winter’s chills, the low temperatures causing the asphalt to buckle and surge in places. Then spring rains had made a mess of them, so he needed to pay attention to avoid some of the larger, deeper potholes and cracks in the pavement. In all that twenty miles, he hadn’t seen one vehicle pass him, though that wasn’t surprising. This route wasn’t one of the busiest that led northwest away from Oklahoma City. The interstate was a bit further south, and another northwest state road traversed the city, a lot closer to the city than their headquarters.

Finally, slowing his bike, he rolled past an intersection, beyond which several outbuildings rose, casting long shadows to the east. Another mile or two and he came to the warehouse, surrounded by a battered and leaning chain-link fence. He stopped his bike and pulled off onto the shoulder of the road about one hundred yards away, eyeing the place. Doc pulled up behind him, following suit. Neither said a word. Seth looked for any sign of Jokers, any sign of movement, any indication that anyone was present at the warehouse. Nothing. No cars, no trucks, and no bikes.

Seth wasn’t taking chances. He turned to look over his shoulder at Doc. “Wait here,” he said. “I want to take a look around the back.”

“Levi said I should stay with you—”

“And I said stay back,” Seth repeated. “If something happens, you go back to the headquarters and get the others.” Reluctantly, Doc nodded.

Seth slowly slipped his bike into low gear and moved forward, turning off the shoulder and riding into the high grasses and desert shrubs of the landscape around the structure, glancing between the route he picked and the warehouse, now on his left. He made a wide circle around the place, but didn’t see any bikes or vehicles parked behind the warehouse structure. He rejoined Doc. “I want to take a look around the place. Maybe we can find something that we missed before.”

Doc nodded and followed him on his bike through the large gap in the fencing, pulling up in front of the warehouse. Bullet holes riddled the metal door, frozen in time nearly three-quarters of the way up. Black soot stained parts of the door threshold, licking upward before they faded. Too bad the fucking place hadn’t burned to the ground. Doc gazed at the bullet holes and then turned to Seth.

“What was inside?”

Seth shrugged. “Some drugs. We set fire to them.” Doc nodded and once again Seth ordered him to stay put. “Keep a lookout,” he said, using the heel of his boot to lower the kickstand and swung his leg over the seat in one smooth motion. “Holler if you see anybody coming from either direction.”

He didn’t wait for Doc to reply but entered the structure, moving slowly, sticking to the shadows, just in case. It smelled of burned pot, oil, and grease, and something else unpleasant, maybe a dead rat or two that had gotten caught in the fire. Seth strode the perimeter of the inside of the structure, looking for any clue as to why Nikki had been kidnapped.

She hadn’t actually made it into this space, at least not when he and the others had waited at the warehouse. But maybe, maybe there was something in here . . . he kicked at several piles of trash, some clothing, and a half-burned mattress. Near the mattress, embedded in the wall, he spied an eye screw. A big one. Not far away from the disgustingly dirty mattress lay a small pile of chain. A dog chain? Or a human chain? He frowned, anger surging through him at the thought of Nikki being chained and afraid on the mattress, surrounded by the Jokers, not knowing what they planned to do to her.

The thought prompted a surge of another emotion. Regret? Him? He shook the feeling away. He hadn’t chained Nikki anywhere. He hadn’t forced himself on her, either. He had locked her in, yes, but—he mumbled under his breath, couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid, so shortsighted, so . . . so curious about her that he hadn’t even thought about it. He had locked her in the cabin, but nothing prevented her from opening the door from the inside. What a fucking idiot he was. He almost laughed at his stupidity. Then again, he wasn’t the only one who would realize that. Callie had gone in as well. Why hadn’t Nikki tried to escape? All she had to do was test the door. Was she afraid? Perhaps, but he couldn’t know for sure. He needed to know more about her. This recon was nothing more than a desperate attempt to figure it out.

Finally, finding nothing inside the warehouse that would give him a clue about Nikki’s situation, he emerged from the structure, relishing the relatively fresh air just outside the door. He gazed down at the dirt where the truck had been, remembering every detail of the Joker reaching inside the bed of the truck and dragging Nikki out. His gaze followed the tire marks of the truck, still discernible in the loose dirt of the yard. He glanced at Doc. “I want to see where those tracks go.”

Doc said nothing but merely shrugged, prepared to start his bike and follow Seth once again. Seth followed the tracks of the pickup truck out of the yard, past the chain-link fence, and then, oddly enough, after the truck had reached the asphalt highway, the truck veered off and took a sharp right, onto a dirt path that he hadn’t seen from the warehouse. The truck had gotten on the asphalt highway, but then turned off it and headed north. Why?

Seth turned his bike and followed the dirt path, deeply rutted from rains the past spring. Once in a while he lost the tracks, but then found a fresh piece further on. He kept his eye out for any sign that the truck veered off the faint dirt trail, perhaps cutting across the plains before it made its way back toward the highway. Where the hell had the Joker been going? Why this way? Suddenly, he heard a shout from behind. He glanced over shoulder to find Doc pointing at something to the northeast. Seth slid his bike to a halt and looked in that direction. He saw it. Doc pulled up beside him. Both stared at the object.

The truck. It had veered away from the dirt track, toward a cluster of boulders off in the distance, maybe three hundred yards away. He frowned. Was it the same truck that had been at the warehouse? It looked like it, but from that distance he couldn’t be sure.

“Come on, but stay behind me,” he told Doc, who nodded in agreement.

He had to hand it to the kid. If Doc was nervous or afraid it certainly didn’t show. Then again, he figured that he’d seen things during his medical training and part of his residency that Seth never would. They approached the seemingly abandoned truck slowly, Doc circling one way about fifty yards away while Seth circled the other. When he veered around toward the front of the truck, he thought he saw a shape in the front seat. That shape didn’t move.

He climbed off his bike, pulled his gun from the back of his waistband, and ventured closer, slowly, his gun pointed at the windshield, his body turned sideways to offer less of a target. Still the figure in the truck didn’t move. Was it a figure? He stepped slowly toward the left front fender, maybe twenty yards away now, and realized what he was looking at. He tucked the gun back into his waistband and approached the truck without hesitation, opened the driver side door, and stepped back as the body spilled out and landed with a soft thud on the dirt at his feet.

“Who is it?”

Seth looked at Doc then back at the body on the ground. “Nothin’ but a dead Joker,” he commented. He barely stopped himself from swinging back his boot and kicking the bastard in the face. Good riddance. He bent down, pulled a gun from a man’s waistband, then turned the stiff over and pulled a wallet from his back pocket. Without looking at it, he shoved it into his own pocket and turned toward Doc once more.

“Help me drag him over there into the gully,” he said. “We’ll leave him for the coyotes.”

It took only a few minutes for them to hide the body in a gully, cover it with brush, and then using another branch, erase their footprints as they retreated toward their bikes. Darkness fell over the landscape.

He hadn’t found any indication for a reason involving Nikki’s kidnapping, but at least something had come of it. One fewer Joker to worry about. He turned to Doc as he straddled his bike. “Let’s get back to the compound. Levi’s gonna want to know about this.”