I frowned at the short text, reading it twice, then cursed.

“What? What is it?” Beau glanced between me and my phone.

I showed him my screen.

He cursed, then said unnecessarily. “I bet she got herself caught.”

Luckily Jethro and Cletus walked out of the Piggly Wiggly at just that moment and made a beeline for the car.

“Sorry that took so long. They had a wide selection of duct tape. And Cletus bought silly string.” Jethro sounded irritated as he settled in the car behind me.

“You can’t rush a duct tape purchase.” In my rearview mirror I saw Cletus clutching the shopping bag to his chest. “Duct tape is man’s answer to electrons and protons. It’s how we keep matter together.”

Once Beau was back in the car, he grabbed my phone out of my hand and passed it to Cletus. “We may have a problem.”

Cletus frowned at the message, then nodded, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses farther up his nose. “Well. Okay then. You can’t make an omelet without heat.”

“You mean, you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs,” Beau corrected.

“No. I meant what I said, you can’t make an omelet without heat. If you have no heat then it’s just watery, raw eggs. That’s not an omelet.”

“Why are you wearing those stupid glasses, Cletus? You don’t need glasses,” Beau asked impatiently.

“It’s a fashion statement,” Cletus responded while he typed something into his calculator watch.

“And to think, I was actually missing y’all last week, before I got home.” Jethro’s sarcasm was cool whip on whipped cream—completely unnecessary.

“Whatever,” Beau said, straightening in his seat. He was anxious.

I should have been, but other than hoping Tina hadn’t done anything too crazy, and a measure of guilt for involving her in the first place, all I felt was impatience to have this mess sorted.

***

I wasn’t anxious. Not at all.

Not until the moment I spotted Jessica James and Claire McClure being carried against their will into the Dragon Biker Bar by two huge men in black leather, trailed by four more men and a shouting Repo.

The situation didn’t look friendly.

“What the fuck?” Jethro’s voice was tight. I knew he recognized Ben McClure’s widow by her red hair. Part of me suspected Ben’s death years ago had been the catalyst for Jethro’s abrupt desire to clean up his act.

“Park the goddamn car, Duane!” Jethro’s voice was now frantic.

“Give the man a minute,” Cletus reprimanded. “Can’t you see his woman is up there, too?”

But she wasn’t, not anymore. They’d both been carried into the bar and swallowed up by the black doors.

I raced the GTO as close to the entrance as I dared and had already parked when Cletus spoke. I didn’t move my seat up to let my brothers out. Instead I ran to the entrance and yanked the door open, scanning the inside for any sign of them and paying no heed to the dozens of bikers staring at me.

I heard Repo’s angry voice but didn’t see him, so I charged toward the sound. My way was immediately blocked by several gang members.

“Out of my way!” I growled my frustration, readying my fists for a fight. Somewhere in the background Honky Tonk Blues rattled over an old speaker system.

“Wait, wait a minute.” I heard Beau from behind me, but I ignored him.

“Get out of my fucking way!” I shouted, drawing my hand back. I didn’t really register the men’s faces, didn’t need to.

“Whoa! Hold on!” An older woman with flaming red hair jumped between me and the wall of bikers, her hands held up. “Just cool your shit, Winston. This ain’t no way to show respect.”

I’d never hit a woman before. But this woman was between me and Jess and that meant she might as well have been a man. Before I could take action, Jethro was suddenly there, standing in front of me.

“Christine, we just saw your boys grab Claire McClure and Jessica James from the parking lot and carry them inside. You need to bring those women out here right now.”

Christine shoved her face into Jethro’s and spat, “You don’t order me, Jethro Winston. Claire is my daughter and I’ll remind you who you’re talking to, boy. Coming in here, acting crazy. You wanna die today?”

I gave the woman another look and immediately registered the resemblance between Claire and Christine. I remembered that I’d met Christine before, years ago at a club picnic when I was a kid. And I’d seen her around town many times, never realizing who she was.

But none of this information was getting me any closer to Jess. I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth, forcing myself to talk even though all I wanted to do was burn this place to the ground.

“Look, we’re here to see Razor,” I cut in, glaring at Claire’s momma, then the barrier of bikers behind her. “I got a message he has something I want. And I guarantee I’ve got something he wants. So enough of this standing around chit-chat bullshit. Which of you is going to take us to see the big man?”

Christine’s eyes moved to me, face still twisted in a sneer. Her glare traveled down then up, as though appraising me for a fight. The bar was eerily quiet and I noticed that the music, wherever it had come from, had been turned off. I also noticed that we were the center of attention. No man was sitting and no woman was talking.

“I know he’s expecting you.” Her tone was cold and measured. “But he wasn’t expecting four of you boys, just the twins.”

“Well, we’re all here, and we’re all telling the same story. So let’s go.”

She studied me, her shrewd eyes moving over my face like she could read my secrets.

At last she nodded once. “Fine. Follow me, Winston.”

Christine turned and the impenetrable barrier of bikers split down the middle, creating a straight path through the crowd. I looked beyond Christine, saw we were headed toward a hallway at the back of the bar.

I heard Cletus from someplace behind me say, “Gentleman, ladies.”

The walls were black. The doors were black. Everyone was dressed in black. Moving through the crowd was like swimming in a midnight sea surrounded by sharks. I could feel their eyes on me, their stares menacing and hostile.

Once we entered the hall I glanced behind me. Though the wall of bikers loitered at the edge of the hallway, eight were following us. Christine stopped abruptly, turned, and lifted her chin toward me.

“Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”

Clenching my jaw, I did as instructed, realizing we’d made it pretty far into the club without being frisked.

My three brothers also complied, but then after a half minute I heard Cletus say, “That’s silly string.”

I glanced over my shoulder, watching the interaction between Cletus and one of the bikers patting us down.

“What’s it do?” the biker asked.

“It’s silly,” Cletus responded. “And it makes a mess.”

The club member glanced at Christine and she shrugged, addressing her question to Cletus, “You planning on making silly messes?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then why do have it?”

“Just in case you have cameras in the room where we’re being taken.”

She frowned at Cletus, her eyes narrowing. “You planning on covering the lenses with silly string?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No, you ain’t.” She lifted her chin and the silly string was confiscated.

Once the pat down was complete, Christine led us further into the winding corridor. We descended a flight of stairs, passing more black walls and more black doors. Nothing was labeled and all the hallways looked the same. I had no idea how we were going to get out of here without a guide.

With every step, my fear mounted, a sensation I wasn’t accustomed to.  Panic threatened to either choke me or send me into a blind rage. All I could think about was Jess, somewhere in this hellish labyrinth. But I stopped myself from imagining the worst, because if I did then I would most certainly yield to blind rage.

Finally, we stopped in front of a door. I strained my ears, heard voices on the other side, and a shot of adrenaline traveled through my system like a lightning bolt when I recognized one of the voices as Jessica’s. I had to clench my jaw and ball my hands into fists to keep from charging forward.

“After you, handsome,” Christine said, opening the door wide and giving me a sinister smile.

I didn’t need to be asked twice.

I walked into the room and scanned it, my eyes immediately latching on to Jessica. She was sitting on a black leather couch, and next to her was Claire. They both looked pissed, but unharmed. My chest eased, some of the panic I’d been fighting dissipated. The girls weren’t looking at us. They were looking at the man on the adjacent couch, a man I recognized as Razor Dennings, president of the Iron Order.

“So you boys made it,” he said without turning his head; Razor’s eyes were on his daughter but he lifted his chin toward Jess. “I knew you’d come if I invited your girl here for a visit.”

Jess’s attention finally moved to where I stood, her eyes telling me most of what I needed to know. She wasn’t surprised to see me. And she was scared, and feeling stupid for some reason, trying to apologize without saying the words.