MC Bear My Baby (Beartooth Brotherhood MC) (12 page)

Fear was a vicious motivator.

It was one hell of a learning experience this time, though, not being worried for himself.

This was a big old first, one he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live through a second time when this was all over.

While he was behind the counter he snatched the surveillance footage. Sure he was tampering with evidence, but in this case, he had no problem being judge, jury and executioner. Especially that last one. Tate passed near the refrigerated drink cases at the end of the cashier’s counter, and carefully pulled out a needle that was partially sticking out from under the machine. A tranquilizer or two would be enough to take down Axe. Not so lucky for them, Molly’s stalker ex was a bear shifter too, which meant he was in on all the little shifter secrets. Like how much juice he’d need to make a shifter go nighty-night so he could do whatever he wanted with Tate’s old lady.

Tate swallowed down both ideas, finding them unsettling as hell.

He took a look at the time. It had been nine minutes since he called 911. Time to disappear. He pocketed the syringe and hurried out. He part-shifted for the physical strength to put Axe’s bike on the truck bed, then he hopped into the truck to meet Silas and the others at the clubhouse.

One thing was for damn sure—he couldn’t do the rest of this alone.

“
W
e got any clues yet
?” Tate hovered near the TV all but biting his fingernails as Cole replayed the surveillance video in the meeting room for the eighteenth time.

“No, not since the last time you popped off at the mouth, kid,” Cole barely budged from the digital screens. He was scanning for any clues as to what the creeper might have done to Molly and Axe, and where he may have taken them. Silas had excused himself to contact the Baton Rouge Charter of the Beartooth Brotherhood MC. The president over there was sure to have some information.

So far, the tape confirmed that Molly and Axe had entered the grocery store and shopped around for a good bit. They were ready to check out when Jett snuck into the store from the back of the store. He jammed a syringe into Axe’s neck from behind. Dude had dropped like a sack of potatoes. Molly had tried to leave, but Jett quickly blocked her and took out the clerk behind the counter. She had hit the deck just then, smart girl. After that, Jett dragged her with him at gunpoint, took her outside, and came back for Axe while he was still unconscious.

There was no other evidence. Not a license plate number, no accomplices. Nothing.

Tate paced across the meeting room, fighting the urge to tear the place apart. They’d been slogging through the security footage, going over every move, for at least an hour. Dean was handling the phone tree with the surrounding shifter allies in the area. If Jett was still in the area now, they would figure it out through their network. All and all, shit was moving—but not fast enough. Not when he kept thinking about what could be happening.

“Tate.” He jerked his head up and looked at Silas. “Brother, how about you save that fuck ton of pent-up rage on your face until we find this asshole?” His president threw up his hands and took a step back.

“What?” He had no idea what Silas was talking about.

“Big guy. Just letting you know you should probably keep your shit on lockdown. Those are sharp, you feel me?” Silas motioned until Tate glanced down at his fully formed bear paws where his hands should have been, sharp tipped claws digging rivulets into their conference table.

“Shit. Yeah, I’ll get a handle on it. Sorry, boss.”

“It’s all good, man. I get it.”

Sabrina popped her head in to see if there were any updates. Silas went over to her, kissed her forehead and told her to get some rest. Everyone was worried and wound up. He went back to the map he’d started looking at before he left to talk to the Baton Rouge president.

“Before you ask, I got nada from Bryant. Jett’s been MIA for weeks according to him. Off the grid and AWOL. It sounded like the kid got his membership revoked. We’ll find him, Tate. The longer he’s been around Shifter Canyon, the more likely our people have seen him. You can bet your life on it. She’ll be fine.”

Their eyes locked and they shared a sappy, brother bonding, man hug chick-flick moment. If anyone could do it, he was sure Silas wouldn’t let him down. Not when he knew exactly what was on the line for him. Tate shoved down all his negative shit and rattled his brain for anything that might help the boys. He couldn’t come up with anything. Talk about useless, he might as well have had his thumb up his ass. His phone rang on the other side of the table and he hurtled himself at the vibrating gadget to take the call.

“Yeah?” He barked, breath choppy.

“Tate? Is…is…that you?”

His whole body gave out in a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding at the sound of Molly’s shaky—but very much alive—voice. A surge of questions all raced in his head, mixing in with the relief that took over the fear and anger only for a split second until it was all replaced by panic.

“You’re okay? Tell me you’re okay? We’re coming to get you, just hang in—”

“Tate, I need you to listen to me. Listen for a second.”

He tried to focus, but his mind couldn’t roll over the idea that she was on the other end of the line. Why would her captor let her phone him like that? He licked his lips, clutching the phone more tightly as if it would help keep her on the call for as long as they needed to get her back.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m with Jett. We’re at a warehouse, the address is 371 Persimmon Place, about fifty minutes southwest from the grocery store where we were taken. I’m fine. He hasn’t touched me. But Axe is not doing too well.”

There was silence. Again he opened his mouth to ask all of the questions, but something stopped him. If he interrupted, who knew how much time he’d have left on the phone?

“Keep going, baby.”

“Um…” She sniffled and it took everything inside him not to shift to his bear and find a way to protect her. “I’m sorry!”

She knew that bit wasn’t for him. It was too muffled. Jett was watching and listening to her, controlling what she said. Tate looked around the four corners of the clubhouse meeting room as waves of helplessness sunk deep inside him.

“Tate, don’t do anything stupid. Please. Just come to the warehouse as soon as possible, alone—” Molly made a whimper, and there was some rustling.

A growl trickled out of Tate’s lips as all the hairs on his body stood on end as he began to address Jett. “Listen, you sick motherfucker. I will annihilate you and everyone you love if you so much as look at her wrong!”

Her captor, presumably Jett came on the call. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, brother. Pump the brakes! No one’s getting hurt here. I’m simply asking you to meet me at the warehouse so we can have a gentlemen’s discussion…and by discussion, I mean duel.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m asking to handle this issue like gentlemen, brother.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. Brother. What the hell do you want?”

“I say we fight to the death…bear style.”

“If you so much as touch a hair on her head or harm the baby in
any
way…I won’t be responsible for how your club finds you tomorrow.”

M
olly winced
as Jett turned and made eye contact. His walnut brown eyes were hard as steel, mouth gliding down into an expression that almost lacked emotion. Yeah, this wasn’t good for anyone. She hopelessly wriggled in her tight bonds. He’d tied her up with rope from her ankles to her shoulders so that no matter how much she struggled, it was pretty damn useless. Now might be a good time to test that theory.

“Baby? Jett, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Molly wheedled, using every feminine wile at her disposal. It was probably in their best interest to keep Jett happy during this extended stay in his creepy desert dungeon lair-type cave. “Talk to me, baby. Don’t shut me out.”

In the meantime, between Tate’s phone call and the kidnapping, she’d been feeding him exactly what he wanted, acting as if their relationship had never ended. Jett was in heaven. Until now, anyway. She glanced at his feral expression then looked over at Axe, who was chained up with industrial snow chain behind Jett. What on earth could Tate have possibly said on the call to jeopardize them all getting out alive?

Oh yeah. It was Tate she was thinking about.

He only had to be breathing to create problems.

“Don’t call me that,” Jett snapped, shoving his cell phone into his pocket, running his hands through his thick, shoulder-length chestnut hair. At one time she remembered admiring the gesture because it set off his muscles so well. Now it merely reminded her of all the things those muscles could do—including ripping her baby daddy to little bits and pieces.

Okay, time to play silent. Maybe he’d give it up on his own time.

Goosebumps climbed Molly’s limbs as she battled ongoing nausea that had screwed with her head ever since Jett had hauled her out here. She silently prayed that if she got out of here in sound mind and body she’d read every baby book known to man. Because she had no idea which part of her body ached more—and that was a crippling bad sign for the small fetus currently cradled in her womb. A slice of fear cut so deep she almost couldn’t breathe.

“You’re pregnant, Molly?”

Oh, Jesus. He’d found out.

“I can explain.”

“You’re pregnant, and I treated you this way! I’m a fucking barbarian, a beast. I’m not fit to kiss your feet. God, how can you ever forgive me? I didn’t know…if I did…”

While he fretted like an old woman she was lost for words. He couldn’t possibly think…it was his? It would take alien math and a one-year holding pattern plus some magic thrown in for the baby to be his. She hadn’t slept with him for over a year.

More proof that the man was crazy.

Still, his deranged belief could keep her much more intact than bursting his bubble.

Molly arched a brow while his back was turned, and spun this surprise in a completely different direction. She could make this work. Buy them time. Only a little longer…and then they’d have to come up with a new plan because Tate couldn’t be allowed to fight Jett. Not when the man outweighed Tate by a good hundred pounds. She shied away from guessing what that meant in the shifter realm.

“I…didn’t want to tell you until I was this far along, baby. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. It was a…surprise…” At least that part was true.

“Fuck, here I am chasing you across the country and trying to win you back when I didn’t even need to try that hard. A part of me was always with you…” He knelt in front of her, placing his repulsive palm on her still slim abdomen with reverence. “And you know it’s a boy. You’ve brought me a son, my sweet angel.”

Sure, they could go with that explanation. Clearly Jett had glossed over the bearer of the information, Tate. Which worked, she wasn’t going to argue. How would he known the sex of the baby?

It was so early.

Too early.

But then again, this was Jett, a born and bred shifter from New Orleans. Louisiana was a mystical place. All the shifters born there seemed to have supernatural gifts on top of their ability to turn into feral animals. Maybe Jett had the gift of sight. Or maybe he was just plain crazy. Still, Molly found her fingers drifting downward until she was palming her own stomach in slightly queasy awe.

She and Tate were having a son?