Rage's Story (Vanish Book 1) by Elle Michaels Read Free Book Online Page B

anything?”
    “I’ll put money on his head.”
    Evin looks to the men behind him, still seemingly disinterested. “Who’s the guy?”
    “Big fucker, blonde, looks like one of you, to be honest.”
    Evin pauses, the room gets rigid. They realize it’s me he’s talking about. The little shit, he wants me dead? He knows better than to think I’m the kidnapper. Who would return to the scene of the crime? He could be diverting. Maybe it was Aston. I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like the wimp would be capable, but masterminds don’t come uniform. Bold tactic. What would he take her for? Why stay here? What would he have done with her? I can’t stop the questions, and for each I conjure a possible answer, only to find more holes, more questions. I can’t dismiss the possibility same as I can’t entertain it.
    Evin’s interested. He stands close to Aston, they whisper, and it seems Aston appears frightened. I have to hear what they’re saying, what Evin has planned if he finds me. I slide my ear nearer the hole, and feel my foot slide in the mud at the base of the warehouse, my shoulder slamming into the metal paneling. Fuck.
    “What was that?”
    I don’t know who said it, but now I know their attention is turned my direction. Move, Wes. Move!
    I push off against the wall and slip my boots twice more on faulty steps before I gain traction. I’m picking up speed, but they’re already exiting the warehouse. Guns blast, I hear the bullets whiz past, embed in the mud, snap bush branches. I pull out the pistol that ended Richie from my jeans and fire back, twisting at the torso for a split second image with which to aim my shot. I fire three rounds and watch a brother go down, face first, falling straight into the mud. The others don’t miss a beat, they continue their chase and I run like hell out of there. I see, for only a second, the image of the lover boy behind them, watching with eyes wide, but I can’t discern between aghast or intrigued, the thought of the latter shooting a shiver through my spine, but I can’t stop to consider, have to keep running, have to ignore the pain in my side, in my wound, have to make it out, have to find Auna, have to save her from whatever took her away, have to run away, have to keep running...
     

 
     
     
    9.
     
    It’s a mile, or two or three, of silence before I feel safe accepting the notion I’ve escaped. At least, in this instance. My trail’s hot now, they know I’m here, know I’ve killed brothers. The MC won’t rest at this point, the certainty of their enemy and the betrayal of it all sets their egos on fire, won’t allow them to stop before I’m dead. I know, I’ve seen it play out before. Regrettably, I’ve carried it out with my own hands.
    I’m still running, like my legs can carry me away from the past and the preceding events, but they’re giving out steam.
    I pause, somewhere in the woods alongside the road that leads out of town, the same that led me to the Pussycat Lounge and kept me here in Westwood Valley. I lean forward, catch my breath, see it dissipate into the night around me.
    What am I doing? I’ve got nothing now, no MC, no money, no world. No Auna. She was the last thing I had, the last thing to go. I suppose that instills something, wraps her with meaning more than it should, but while I recognize how foolish I’ve been, I also see things so clearly with her. She’s gone. I need to find her. It’s that simple. Nothing else has ever boiled down like that. Something about that simplicity reenergizes me, in the face of all that’s crumbling, so much history and bridges set ablaze by the last weeks.
    What are my leads?
    The rich pretty boy. He’s the only one I see right now, his smug face hovering before my eyes. Aston. The pathetic boozer who can’t get anyone to take him seriously. He couldn’t get Auna to take him seriously. So he kidnapped her. Make himself feel powerful by holding her captive, forcing her to respect him.