Dean

 

Dean was on the road again, the wind hard in his face. On his bike was where the world made the most sense, and where things were easiest to cope with. Especially hard things, like this—when the Scorpions had shown up at the clubhouse, spinning a tale about Emma being walked out of the mall by men in suits.

 

Connell had half a mind to dismiss it, but the Scorpion member had described the outfit Emma had been wearing to a T, and what reason did he have to lie? Dean had taken to the road with half the Titans at his back, and half the Scorpions on their way. The Scorpion had sent the location where the SUV had taken Emma to his club and led Dean and the Titans there personally.

 

Outside the old office building, he took just a moment to make sure that everyone was ready. And then they rushed the door.

 

Dean had been in more than a few firefights in his life, but he’d never enjoyed them. He’d never felt good about firing a gun, and he’d never been entirely sure if he’d killed another person. He didn’t want to know. He’d been sick enough over the various beatings he’d given. But this was his daughter, and the woman he— loved was an awfully strong word. But he cared about Emma. He cared about her a lot more than made any sense given the short time he’d known her. And if he had to kill someone because they meant her harm, well, then that was just what was necessary to keep her safe.

 

With his siblings at arms, he rushed through the door, through a confusing series of corridors and old cubicles, coated with dust where they weren’t draped in plastic sheeting. The building smelled like mouse shit and something else, darker, that he couldn’t quite place.

 

There were clear tracks through the dust to follow, and he followed them easily into the dark maze of the building. He could hear voices, and after a few turns, saw lights. He held up a hand before he and the rest of the club members rushed the room, spending a moment getting an idea of what was happening.

 

He could see a long conference table. Several men in suits around the table. They looked lazy, soft. One at the head of the table looked like a hell of a snake, but not the kind who would be a threat in a fight. More of a threat you wouldn’t want against you at a table like this one. There were guys in suits all around the table, the kind who wore dark sunglasses inside and had their fancy suits cut so that they wouldn’t betray the shoulder harness worn underneath them. And at the end of the table was Emma. He recognized her from her dark, curly hair in a ponytail, and the set of her shoulders. She was nervous, but not as much as she could’ve been. He waited until the others with him were close by, guns out. His heart throbbed in his ears as he took a deep breath, let it halfway out, and then nodded.

 

They boiled into the room in a rapid wave. He couldn’t track each moment as it happened. He reacted on instinct and movement, rather than consideration. There were shouts around him, of “Don’t move,” “On the ground,” and “Listen up scum.” He saw one of the standing suits go for a gun and saw him fall backward, clutching at his shoulder. Another moved, close to Dean, and he brought back the gun before bringing it down hard across the man’s temple, crumpling him to the floor like a sack of potatoes. It felt like ages, but it was just a few moments before the men were surrounded, put in their places, hands up in the air or down on the ground. Connell seemed to have the situation contained, and when he shared a quick nod with Dean, Dean let himself go to Emma.

 

She all but flung herself up out of the chair, wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing her weight so hard against him that he wavered slightly on his feet.

 

“Hey,” he let himself murmur into her neck, looking up at the ceiling so that the stinging in his eyes wouldn’t turn into something embarrassing. “Hey. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

 

“Damn right I am,” she whispered back, and he could hear choked wetness in her voice as well. “But I’m getting really tired of this damsel in distress routine. Real tired.”

 

“Well, tell you what,” he said. “Next time, you can rescue me. Deal?”

 

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

 

He pulled back enough to see her face and give her the shit-eating grin he knew she loved. “So how did a pretty girl like you end up in a—” He looked around, considering. “Crappy broken down office building like this?”

 

Instead of laughing, though, the joy on her face stilled down into something between fear and worry.

 

“They have Mia,” she said. “Or they know who does. But they don’t know where she is. And Dean… we have to get to her first.”

 

Dean forced himself to loosen his grip on Emma, but before he let go, she squeezed his hand. He moved to Connell, who had his gun on the man who had been sitting opposite Emma, at the other end of the table.

 

“This is Damian Roth,” Connell said, his voice calm and level. “Runs a few banks downtown, but more importantly, keeps money clean for any number of dirty interests in the area.” He gestured with his chin at one of the Scorpions, a tall and burly man with curly black hair and dark brown skin. “Carl ID’d him. Says the Scorpions used to use his services, but that the company went dark a few years back, then resurfaced with a shiny new client list, and old friends were no longer welcome.”

 

Dean nodded. He put his hip up on the table, trying to look conversational and “Good Cop.”

 

“I suppose you’ve already tried tracing the feed back to that camera?” He pointed at the screen without letting himself look at it. He didn’t want to see his little girl’s face, twisted with stress and worry.

 

Roth didn’t look up and didn’t say a thing. So much for “Good Cop.” There was no way Dean was going to be able to control himself in the face of a pissant in a business suit who thought he didn’t need to speak to a man who had a question. Connell was just going to need to be “Good Cop” for a change.

 

Dean shifted his balance so that his foot rested on the edge of the chair, the steel toe of his motorcycle boot resting right on top of Roth’s junk.

 

“I’m not a patient man,” he said, keeping his voice as calm and level as he could. Which wasn’t very calm or level at this point. “I’m going to ask again. And if you don’t answer me, I’m going to squash your fucking pencil dick into paste. We clear?”

 

He saw Roth’s jaw clench, but the man didn’t look up. He glanced at Connell, who nodded and gestured at one of the women who’d come along with them. She went to the bank of monitors and started tracing wires. As soon as she found the main computer bank, she pulled something out of a small knapsack, and he could hear the clicking of keyboard keys.

 

“We’re going to track down whatever you have going on here,” Dean said, still striving to make his voice conversational. “I just want you to answer now. I don’t give a shit about what you think, what you want, what you think is most important. Who you think you might be protecting. Did you try and trace the signal yourself already?”

 

Roth was clearly gritting his teeth, expecting the pain. It seemed only right to give it to him.

 

It was a while before he screamed, but by then, Dean had found out everything he needed to know.