Chapter 1

José "Bulldog" Santiago watched the smiling couple from his seat at the bar, trying not to allow his envy for their happiness overrule the joy he felt for his friend. Bear, the Via Daemonia Motorcycle Club's Road Captain, had re-married his ol' lady today. Since the couple had gotten legally married at the beginning of January before their daughter was born, Bear and Tessa were not calling this celebration their wedding; this was their re-wedding.

Certain aspects were the same as a traditional wedding. Tessa wore a long white gown and Steel had walked her down the aisle to Bear. Everyone was in formal attire—with the exception of the club members wearing their cuts instead of suit jackets. There had been no minister. Instead, Jumper had stood before the couple and prompted them to say their vows before witnesses. Lucky had offered to act as officiant, but Bear had wanted him at his side as his best man. Harper, Lucky's pregnant fiancée and Tessa's best friend, had taken the role as maid of honor.

Bree, the abused foster child recently adopted by Angel, the only female club member, had rolled her way down the aisle in her wheelchair. Grumpy, Bulldog's club brother and a mechanic, had rigged up a cannon-like contraption to release flower petals from the back of Bree's wheelchair. The paraplegic teenager had giggled her way down the aisle. Lucky's sixteen-year-old son with Down Syndrome, Scotty, had very carefully brought a pillow down the aisle with the couple's rings. They'd originally planned on not having a ring-exchange portion of their re-wedding, as they already had their wedding rings tattooed onto their left ring fingers, but Bear had been reminded by Scotty that Bear had made him a promise years ago. Bear had said if he ever got married that Scotty could be his ring bear—a play on words between uncle and nephew. The rings themselves were symbolic and not the couple's real wedding bands.

Steel had taken the place of Tessa's father, a Navy Rear Admiral who'd died in the Pentagon during the 9-11 attacks when Tessa had been ten. His wife and ol' lady, Jenna, had walked Bear and Tessa's one month old daughter, Maggie, down the aisle in a fancy white and pink stroller. The couple had held their daughter between them as they exchanged their vows.

Bulldog had sat next to his mother, Louisa, and his brother, Carlos, to watch the ceremony. Since it was February in southern Pennsylvania, the use of the clubhouse's outdoor pavilion wasn't ideal. Instead, the clubhouse had been transformed for the wedding ceremony. A rental company had come to set up the chairs and the ladies had decorated with white ribbons, bows, and flower arrangements. After the ceremony, tables had been added to the mix and a catering company had been hired to serve so no one—cough: Jenna—felt obligated to cook, serve, or clean during the celebrations.

It was a great day, full of love, family, and laughter. Yet, as Bulldog sipped his beer at the bar, he couldn't help that envious pang in his chest. He'd never gotten to have this—the wedding and the celebration with friends and family. He could have had it, if his girlfriend hadn't pulled a vanishing act on him. Bulldog immediately pushed that thought out of his head, not wanting to sour his mood even more.

At thirty-four, Bulldog didn't have a girlfriend, he didn't have a friend-with-benefits situation with someone in town, and he didn't have some anonymous online sexting thing going on. He had nameless fucks and one-night stands. He wasn't even sure he could call it a ‘love life', since none of his encounters with women had to do with emotions of the heart.

Holding out for love had done nothing but break his heart. He had no time or patience for love. He'd lost his virginity to an overly enthusiastic barrack bunny in the back alley of a bar when he was twenty. His sex life had consisted of one-night stands and quick fucks in semi-public places ever since. His focus since he'd been eighteen years old was taking care of his family by serving his country. Then, after being discharged, his duty was to the Via Daemonia MC. Having a girlfriend or wife was no longer a priority.

At least that's what he kept telling himself anyway. Maybe one day he'd actually believe it.

Watching Bear twirl Tessa around on the dance floor while a very pregnant Harper held little Maggie in her arms nearby, Bulldog couldn't help but remember the last time he'd gotten on a dance floor. Shit, had their senior prom really been sixteen years ago?

His, he mentally corrected himself. His prom. Yet, he couldn't keep the image of a long purple dress and beautiful emerald eyes from his thoughts.

A hand clasped Bulldog on his shoulder, bringing his attention back to the present. His brother leaned up against the bar. Carlos was slightly shorter than Bulldog at six-two but equally as muscular. He'd inherited their mom's gray-blue eyes, whereas Bulldog had their father's brown. Carlos had changed out of the black suit he'd worn for the re-wedding and into his deputy's uniform. He'd been unable to take the full day off for the celebration and had to return to duty as the town's deputy sheriff.

"Heading out?"

Carlos nodded. "Ma's eagerly waiting her turn with the baby. Don't let her stay too long and wear herself out."

Bulldog fought the urge to roll his eyes. He understood that the brothers' versions of care during their mom's illness had differed. Bulldog had been the income provider, very rarely able to come home and take care of her physical needs. Carlos had been there for every doctor's appointment, every chemo session, every transfusion, and every side effect their mom had suffered through. The only time Bulldog had been granted leave to come help was when their mom had been scheduled for a double mastectomy during her first cancer fight. Eventually, though, Uncle Sam had called him back to duty, and Bulldog had gone. It had been Uncle Sam who was paying for his mother's treatment after all.

Even though their mom had been cancer-free for seven years, her sons still watched over her with eagle eyes. Both Carlos and Bulldog lived in their childhood home with her as well. Several years ago, the brothers had discovered their mom had been job hunting, needing to make ends meet or have to sell her home. At the time, Carlos had his apartment in town and Bulldog had been living in his apartment at the clubhouse. Neither son wanted the stress and strain of a job, even a part-time one, on their mom or wanted to see their mom lose her home. Since neither brother had a family or a steady relationship, it had been decided that they would move back in and share the expenses of the house as well as their mom's needs.

Though she'd argued at first against her grown sons paying for her living expenses, Louisa Santiago now spent her days worry-free, heavily involved in the church, her book and sewing clubs, and volunteering at the youth center to help kids with their homework after school. Sometimes she earned money selling her quilts or helping the occasional family out with hemming or alterations, especially during prom season. She tried to slip the money into her sons' pockets, but they always ended up accidentally depositing it into her account instead of one of theirs.

After years in remission, the chances of her cancer returning for a third time were small, but there was always a chance. Looking across the room at his mom in her pretty pink dress as she laughed and socialized with his club family, Bulldog couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. His mom was one of the bravest, strongest people he knew—and he knew a lot of brave and strong people. He was honored to be her son.

"Don't worry, fratellino," he told his little brother. Though the men's features resembled that of their Spanish father, their mother was Italian. She'd wanted to get in touch with her roots during her treatments and had even discovered that a distant cousin owned a winery in Italy. She'd learned the language, swearing that she would go visit if she ever kicked cancer's butt. Bulldog and Carlos had learned too, intending to go with her. Just after Bulldog's discharge from the Army, the Santiago's had gone on their first family vacation. They continued to speak Italian amongst themselves. "I got her."

Carlos gripped his shoulder tighter for a moment before letting go. "I should be home around midnight," he said as he stepped away.

Bulldog nodded in acknowledgment. Then he finished his beer before journeying across the room to ask his mom to dance.

* * *

Bulldog and Louisastayed later than he'd intended. Though he could see how tired his mom was, it was hard for him to take her away from the party when she'd been having such a good time. Instead, Bulldog had sat with his mom at one of the center tables, making sure she ate and drank enough, while she still socialized.

Patting his face before she headed to her room, Louisa had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You're such a good boy, mio José."

"Buona notte, Mamma." He hugged her goodnight.

He watched her head down the hall. Though he was tired as well, Bulldog journeyed towards the kitchen. He grabbed a glass of water before walking into the living room. His laptop was on the coffee table, closed and calling to him.

Bulldog had never considered himself a storyteller. Becoming an author had never even been on his top ten list of things he'd wanted to be when he grew up. It had been a therapist who'd recommended Bulldog keep a dream journal when he'd been having trouble sleeping upon returning home. The dream journal had moved into short stories. Sometimes, it was about what had really happened without the filter of a dream; other times, it was what he'd wished had happened. Then one day, he'd opened a blank document on his computer and had just started writing.

Don't get him wrong: that first story was a piece of shit that would never see the light of day. Bulldog had never even allowed his mom, who was the first person to read any of his stories, to read it. However, he owed some respect to that story, because it had given him the courage to try again.

His military thriller series Boots in the Sand had been born. It had taken some time, but he'd gotten a literary agent right around the same time the Via Daemonia had been formed six years ago. Then, suddenly, he was a published author, using J.S. Knight as his penname. Very few in the club were aware of his writing career, simply because he wasn't one to brag.

His mom was, though. Everyone in her church, the grocery store, and her sewing clients knew that her son was a published author.

Bulldog was in the middle of correcting a fight scene he hadn't liked his first version of when he felt a presence beside him. Though the house was locked up and he'd heard no doors or windows open, Scar sat down beside Bulldog.

Bulldog had learned years ago that locked doors and windows meant nothing to Scar. It wasn't like the man knocked anyway. He noticed Scar was still in his dress pants and shirt, cut, and boots, meaning he'd come directly here from the re-wedding. Unlike most of the other brothers, Scar hadn't worn a tie. Bulldog knew and respected why, even if no one else did.

Scar didn't look at him, didn't say anything. Neither did Bulldog. He just continued typing while his friend sat beside him.

Though Bulldog had never asked why Scar continued to randomly show up in his house, it was his assumption that Scar wanted company without the pressure of socializing. He'd seen Scar at the reception with Sissy, Lucky's adult daughter. A while ago, Bulldog had suspected that perhaps something more than friendship was going on between the two. They seemed to always be near each other at club gatherings and Bulldog had never seen anyone sit down and have a—one-sided—conversation with Scar like Sissy did. Yet, nothing seemed to be developing between the two of them. Bulldog wasn't giving up hope. There was roughly a ten-year age difference between them. That wasn't awful. Even as her father, Lucky couldn't say a word about it without being a hypocrite because he was fourteen years older than his pregnant fiancée. Bulldog didn't know if something would happen between Sissy and Scar. He just didn't want to see his friend die alone.

Then again, Bulldog couldn't help but think the same thing about himself.

Maybe Scar and Bulldog would just remain lonely bachelors for the rest of their lives, sitting silently next to the other. Didn't sound so bad. At least someone was sitting next to him.

* * *

It must have beenthe wedding. It was the only reason the dream would return to him after all these years. Because that's all it was. A dream. A vision he'd had as a thirteen-year-old boy staring down at a pretty girl in a blue dress and picturing her in a white ballgown instead. The world's most beautiful bride…

His phone ringing startled Bulldog awake. He'd fallen asleep on the couch with his laptop open on his lap. Thankfully, he hadn't dropped it that time. That was how he'd ended up having to buy a new computer a couple of months ago when the screen had shattered on his old one.

Bulldog didn't bother looking around to see if Scar was still there. He'd have gone home—wherever that was—a while ago. "Yeah?" he answered without looking to see who was calling.

"I'm on Chester Road, about a mile south of the old windmill. I need you to come quickly and bring Bear."

Bulldog's eyebrows scrunched down at his brother's frantic voice. "Are you hurt?" He immediately started putting his boots on. He was still wearing the dress pants from the wedding, but it didn't sound like he was going to have time to change.

"No, I'm fine, but you need to get here."

"What's going on?" Bulldog reached the front door and pulled his winter jacket on over the white dress shirt. He grabbed his cut, but didn't put it on. Since it was too cold to ride his refurbished '65 Glide, he would need to take his cage. "It's Bear's wedding night. Do you really need him?"

Bear was a registered nurse. He'd recently quit his job to be a stay at home "Papa Bear". Tessa was an emergency room doctor. The couple had decided she would return to work after her maternity leave was up. The club had recently voted to bring Bear on as a part-time employee as their on-call nurse. Still, it was the man's re-wedding night.

"Trust me. Bring him. If it wasn't the middle of the night, I'd prefer Tessa."

Shit. Bulldog didn't know what was going on or why Carlos wasn't just calling an ambulance, but he trusted his brother. He'd have his reasons. "Steel too?" He backed out of the driveway and headed towards club property. Steel and Jenna, Lucky and Harper, Bear and Tessa, and Angel had houses there.

"Not yet. I think the less of us, the better, right now."

"On my way." Bulldog hung up the phone and then, regrettably, called Bear. He explained what he knew, which wasn't much. He could hear Tessa in the background arguing that she was coming too and Bear loudly arguing back that she wasn't.

Their one-month-old daughter was having her first sleepover at Aunt Jenna and Uncle Steel's house tonight. Though Bear's parents had offered to take their granddaughter back to their house, Tessa hadn't been ready for Maggie to be so far away from her parents yet. Therefore, it had been decided that Jenna and Steel would take Maggie for the night as their house was next to the newlyweds'. This way, Bear and Tessa could have privacy for their re-wedding night and, if Tessa decided she wasn't comfortable having Maggie away from them, it would be a simple walk to go get her.

When Bulldog pulled up to their house, both Bear and Tessa were waiting for him on their front porch. He really wasn't surprised Tessa had won that argument. Each had a medical go-bag with them. Bear looked more pissed that his wife was going with them than the fact that they were outside in the cold after midnight on their re-wedding night.

Tessa was a petite woman at five-two. She had long blonde hair and glasses. In her fluffy white coat and gear, she resembled a very short Michelin man.

Bear just looked like an oversized, pissed-off grizzly.

On their way, Tessa asked questions Bulldog didn't have answers to. Bear sat behind the passenger seat, glaring forward at his ol' lady and grumbling under his breath about the stubbornness of women.

Finally, Bulldog spotted two police cruisers. Both were pulled over to the side of the road in a standard traffic stop position. If Carlos had pulled someone dangerous over, it made sense that he would have called his fellow cops for backup. The real question was why Carlos had called Bulldog and wanted Bear to come, on his re-wedding night, versus calling an ambulance.

In front of the cruisers was a beat-up old minivan with more rust than paint. All three vehicles were still running, likely to keep the heat going. Carlos, though, was standing outside the closed window of the minivan. Was he afraid the driver would leave?

"Stay in the cage," Bulldog told them. He needed to assess the situation before he allowed Tessa out. She'd argue less if Bear stayed with her.

The area was dark except for the four sets of headlights. This stretch of road was surrounded by Amish farmland, which currently were just fields of snow.

Since he'd been driving a cage, he'd had his cut off. Bulldog put it on over his coat as he approached his brother. Once he was past the cruisers, he saw Danny, another deputy, coming around the other side of the minivan.

"What's going on?" Bulldog asked, eyeing the minivan. He had his gun holstered on his hip under his coat but didn't draw it since both Carlos's and Danny's weapons were also holstered.

As he neared, he realized Carlos looked shaken. Not shaking due to the cold but shaken due to the situation. What the fuck was going on? Carlos was not acting like the seasoned cop he was. That was more concerning than the cryptic phone call in the middle of the night.

Rather than answer Bulldog, Carlos turned to Danny. "I appreciate you waiting around until they got here. Why don't you head on home now?"

Danny was young, early twenties, but he had a good head on his shoulders. When Sheriff Hannigan had suspended Carlos under false pretenses last April, Danny had been the only one to question the sheriff's motives. For that, Bulldog was appreciative on his brother's behalf.

Though the young man looked half frozen, he still asked, "Are you sure? I can stick around if you need."

Carlos nodded once. "I'm sure. I'll take care of this."

Bulldog saw the apprehension on Danny's face. "Have a good night then."

The brothers watched and waited until Danny was at his cruiser. The one in front, Bulldog took note. That meant Danny had been the one to pull the minivan over and he had called Carlos as backup.

As Danny was about to get into the driver's seat, Carlos called out, "Not a word to Hannigan until I say otherwise."

Danny nodded solemnly. "I know. You can count on me."

Whatever was going on Carlos wanted to avoid Hannigan? That wasn't good. Tension between the sheriff and the club had been…better, but not solid. The sheriff had been tortured at the hands of Mateo Castillo last August. He'd nearly been beaten to death and had had two fingers cut off. Still, the man hadn't broken. While his motives had not been to protect the club, but to protect someone whom the club was already protecting, it had made the club more sympathetic towards the man who had made their lives hell when Lucky had started to date his daughter. Now that Harper was pregnant, and after witnessing her father's torture, she wanted to make amends. The club was trying to honor her wishes. They were cordial to the sheriff when he came around, but they certainly didn't trust the man.

To Carlos's disdain and dislike, Hannigan was his boss. Carlos didn't trust the sheriff any more than the club did, so the possibilities were endless as to why Carlos had called the club for help instead of the sheriff.

As soon as Danny was driving away, Carlos said sternly, "Before I show you what I found, I need your word you'll keep calm."

"The fuck?" Bulldog was feeling anything but calm because Carlos wasn't calm.

"Your word, José."

He had been around nineteen when he'd earned the moniker ‘Bulldog'. Carlos, being fourteen and in awe of his soldier big brother, had thought the nickname was "so cool" and had called him Bulldog ever since. José only came out when he was being serious.

Knowing that, Bulldog nodded, just as serious. "I'll stay calm."

Carlos took a deep breath. "God, I hope so. Follow me." He took a couple of steps towards the driver's door and tapped on the window. "Abby? It's Carlos. I'm going to open the door, okay?"

Abby? While Bulldog knew that it was a popular girls' name, there was only one girl who came to mind whenever he heard it. It had been hard enough to stay objective one deployment when he'd had a commanding officer with the last name of ‘Abigail'.

Carlos's strange behavior, the request to bring Bear out on his wedding night, his plea for Bulldog not to lose his shit… Fuck, fuck, fuck… Bulldog's heart raced a million miles per second, but it was like watching in slow motion as Carlos reached for the driver's door handle and pulled the door open. He wasn't even sure he was even breathing.

Abby.

He knew. The door wasn't even open all the way and he knew. Sixteen years. Sixteen fucking years since he'd gotten that fucking letter forwarded from his mom to the base.

Her words I've moved on rang through his head.

The door finally opened all the way. Carlos looked at him worriedly and then took a step back. It was like walking through molasses to get to the opening. Bulldog picked up the odor of a stale, old car. He had to duck his head down to see inside.

Shock hit him as much as the minivan's blasting heat did.

In the driver's seat was a teenager, maybe twelve or thirteen. She had a blanket over her shoulders and her knees pulled up to her chest. Bulldog took note of the white, rag-like dress she was wearing. Even more so because he recognized it.

Bulldog's mind immediately jumped to Mateo Castillo, the cartel kingpin the club had crossed last year. In an effort to break out from under his older brother's shadow, Mateo had started a human trafficking ring in Detroit. He'd wanted to branch out and had been looking for a new location to set up shop when he'd set his sights on Mount Grove.

Last April, the club had stumbled across Castillo's operation by accident. They had been following Deputy Mark Connelly of the Mount Grove Police Department to Ohiopyle because they believed he was going there to oversee a drug deal. It had been Bulldog who'd first seen what was truly for sale: women. A cargo truck had been stuffed with thirty-four women and two underage girls, who would have been destined for a slave auction if not for the club's interference.

All of the women had been dressed in gross white gowns that more resembled rags than dresses. The exact same kind that this teenager was wearing.

Though the VDMC had dealt with Mateo, Connelly, and their associates, Bulldog now had to wonder if his operation was as dismantled as Mateo's brother Juan claimed it was.

Bulldog lifted his gaze—and met a pair of emerald-green eyes.

Holy fuck. It was like the last sixteen years hadn't happened. A primal need washed over him, animalistic in nature. Mine. The ground could have fallen out from under his feet in that moment, and Bulldog would have never known.

As his eyes wandered, wanting to take all of her in, he started to notice things that he did not like. Her long hair was disheveled, greasy, and matted. It was so dirty, it looked brunette rather than ginger. She had a split lip. Her nose had been broken and not set correctly at some point in the last sixteen years. Bruises littered her face, her throat, and the one shoulder he could see.

A bundle of blankets was wrapped in her arms, and it didn't take a genius to realize she was holding a baby. There was something else around her middle under the blankets that he couldn't make out.

Movement caught his eye, and he broke his trace with Abby to see a little girl, maybe five, poke her head between the two seats over the console. She gave him a shy, toothy smile and a little wave. Both the teenager and the little girl had extremely long hair. Like Abby, neither appeared to have showered recently. The teenager had black hair and green eyes; the little girl had brown hair and brown eyes.

All of them looked exhausted, cold, and hungry.

Bulldog understood now why Carlos had told him he needed to remain calm. Bulldog felt anything but calm looking into this old cage.

Unable to stand the distance anymore, Bulldog rushed around the front of the minivan. When he reached the passenger door, he threw it open. Thankfully, Abby hadn't been leaning against it. Aware of the bruises on her face, Bulldog barely brushed the backs of his fingers down her delicate cheek. His heart felt so tight, it was difficult to breathe.

"My Abby."

Fuck, what if he was dreaming? What if the wedding hadn't just brought back the dream of their first date, but now he was in some sick and twisted version where she'd returned to him broken and battered? He'd wake up soon and she'd once more be lost to him.

But she felt real.

And he could never be so cruel to her in his dreams. Whenever he dreamed of her, she was always smiling, happy, and laughing. Or it was a sensuous dream where she was moaning his name as he thrusted inside her. Either way, he'd never dreamt of her looking like this.

Teenage Abby had always had a natural plumpness to her that made her as more than skin and bones but less than obese. She'd hated it, complaining that she would never have skinny thighs or get rid of her belly pooch. Years ago, Bulldog had once threatened to shove an entire cake down her throat if she dared to go on some fad diet or lose a single pound. She'd never understood that she was perfect just as she was.

Looking at her now, he could see her cheekbones and one of her collarbones. She was thin, but not missed-a-meal thin. No, this was missed-a-lot-of-meals thin.

Realizing he was just standing there towering over her, Bulldog crouched down by the open door. Her eyes looked just as he remembered, but there was a pain in them that hadn't been before. She'd been hurt. A lot. Too much.

Sorrow and rage battled inside Bulldog.

He was dead, whoever had hurt her. He was dead. Bulldog would hunt him down and kill him.

Abby moved slowly, like her entire body hurt. She transferred the baby to her other shoulder, freeing up her right arm that was closest to him. He saw more bruises covering her pale skin and freckles. Her fingernails were also bloody and broken.

She reached for him. Bulldog moved himself closer, so she didn't have to stretch. Her fingernails touched his long beard. Her hand traveled from up his cheek to his bald scalp. She circled around his ear. He held still, allowing her to explore.

Her chin started to tremble, her entire body shaking. It looked like she was crying, but no tears shed. Fuck, how dehydrated was she?

Bulldog made to get up, to call for Tessa, but then Abby spoke. "I finally found you, my José."

* * *

Bulldog didn't wantto let go of her, but it was clear she needed medical attention. And he'd be damned if he stood between her and painkillers.

He stood and indicated to Bear for him to come. "Abby, I have a friend. She's a doctor. She needs to take a look at you."

"Us."

At first Bulldog thought she meant the baby in her arms, but then she lifted up the blanket enough for him to see her extremely pregnant belly. Bulldog tried to keep the shock off of his face, but knew he'd failed. He shouldn't have been so surprised. Worse, he shouldn't have been so hurt. It wasn't like he'd stayed a virgin all these years either.

"It's not what you think." Abby let the blanket fall. Her voice was raspy, clearly in need of water. She leaned her head back on the headrest. Fuck, she looked exhausted.

Bulldog's eyes landed on the teenager's raggedy dress. A quick peek into the back of the minivan showed that the little girl was not in a similar outfit, nor was Abby. Their dresses reminded him of nightgowns from the nineteen-fifties with frilly lace around the neckline, sleeves, and the bottom hem.

Bulldog's mind was working overtime. If Abby was where his brain was telling him she had been… God. His stomach rolled. This couldn't be happening. Not to Abby. His beautiful, sweet, and perfect Abby. He had so many questions, but he couldn't voice any of them.

It's not what you think… Abby had no idea what it was he was thinking—or of the rage broiling inside with vows of vengeance.

Bulldog stood abruptly as Bear and Tessa came up to them. He stepped back.

"Here," Bulldog told them shortly. As Tessa slid into the open space, he heard Bear let out a curse as he saw inside the minivan for the first time. Bulldog pulled Carlos away from the cage, but still within easy distance if Abby needed him. "Tell me everything. Every fucking little thing."

"Danny found them pulled over on the side of the road here," Carlos told him. "He stopped to investigate, thinking it was an abandoned vehicle. Apparently Abby was asleep when he first came up on them. The teen freaked and kept repeating that ‘he found us'. Not knowing what else to do, Danny called for backup. I was the closest—and thank God for that. It's been a few years, but I recognized Abby as soon as I saw her."

Thank Godwas right. "She's pregnant," he told his little brother.

Carlos's jaw dropped. "Fuck. I saw the baby in her arms, but not… Shit, man." It sounded like Carlos was apologizing to him, which only made the lead in Bulldog's gut feel heavier.

"Did you see the dress the teen is wearing?" He needed to get the conversation off of Abby before he ended up balled up on the ground crying in the fetal position.

"I recognized it," Carlos clarified. "It was why I called you and Bear instead of an ambulance."

"I need to call Steel."

They had never found the auctioneer, the man that had been purchasing the women in Ohiopyle to sell at a black-market auction. All they had was a single name, and no one knew if ‘Cameron' was his first or last name.

A scream from the minivan had both Santiago brothers running back towards it. The teenager was in the driver's seat with Bear standing in the doorway. Bear had his hands raised to show he was unarmed and was backing away.

Bulldog's first instinct was to check on Abby. He saw through the windshield that she was leaning heavily back against her headrest while trying to talk to the teen. Her voice was still raspy, and Bulldog cursed himself for not having any water to give her. A thin hose caught his attention, and he followed it up to the IV bag hanging from the oh-shit handle. Good. Hopefully there was a painkiller in there too for her.

The teen stopped screaming, but still looked terrified of Bear. The little girl was crying in the backseat and the infant in Abby's arms was wailing.

Bear closed the driver's door, still backing away in a manner that showed the teen he meant no harm. Bear met Bulldog and Carlos at the hood of the minivan.

"What the fuck is going on?" he asked in a low voice.

"How's Abby?" Bulldog asked instead of answering.

Bear's eyes looked back at the minivan, like he was trying to figure out which one Abby was, and then his gaze followed Bulldog's to her. They were staring at one another through the glass. If Abby felt even a fraction of what he did, she wasn't risking taking her eyes off him for fear of him vanishing into thin air.

"You know her," Bear said. Bulldog didn't like how it sounded like an accusation.

"Yes," Bulldog snapped, "and I asked you how she was."

Bear met Bulldog's eyes and said bluntly, "Someone beat the shit out of that poor woman. So my question to you is whose ass do we need to kick?"

Bulldog's anger was replaced with a sense of kinship and brotherhood he'd only ever felt in the Army or with the VDMC. It was why Bulldog had never even hesitated when Steel had approached him years ago about joining the motorcycle club he was starting. "Not sure yet, but I'll let you know when I do."

Bear nodded once. Then he tipped his head towards the kids. "Notice the outfit the girl is wearing?"

Bulldog pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Steel. "We were just discussing that when the screaming started. What happened?"

"I tried to examine her." Bear's face looked resigned as he added, "I noticed blood on her thighs when I was helping Tessa with your friend."

Bulldog closed his eyes as he cringed. He really hoped this wasn't going to lead them to where it felt like it was leading them. That poor girl. And Abby? He wasn't sure he'd be able to stomach the reality of knowing his Abby had been a victim of human trafficking.

"I'll be right back," he heard Tessa say loudly and then the slam of the door closing. Good, that would help the occupants of the minivan keep warm. Bulldog opened his eyes to see Tessa walking up to them. She took off her exam gloves and put her hands in her pockets.

Though she met all their eyes first, she spoke directly to Bulldog. "My preliminary exam shows multiple contusions to her abdomen, neck, and face. Someone tried to choke her, but whomever it was isn't a professional. His grip was too high and weak to harm her trachea. Certainly would have cut off her air supply though. Her nose shows evidence that it's been broken in the past, but it isn't now. Based on external exam only, I'm diagnosing her with a concussion. She's got a good goose egg on the back of her head. I gave her an IV with a mild painkiller, glucose, and antibiotics to hydrate her and ease her pain."

"And the baby?" Bulldog found it odd he was so worried about the baby. The child wasn't his…but it was Abby's. And Abby was his. Fucking letter or no, she'd been his since he was six years old. He didn't care how that baby had come to be. If Abby wanted to keep her baby, that baby would become Bulldog's too.

"There's no vaginal bleeding. Without an ultrasound, that's all I can tell you. However, she did say she can feel the baby moving, which is a very good sign."

"How far along is she?"

"Based on a visual estimation, about eight months." She glanced back at the minivan. "I need to look the girls over," Tessa informed them. "Our priority right now needs to be getting all of them out of the cold though." She looked to Carlos. "Is there a reason you didn't call for an ambulance?"

The men exchanged looks. It was Bear who answered his wife. "An ambulance means questions. Right now, it's best that the sheriff does not know what is going on."

Bulldog really hoped the sheriff wasn't involved. It would break Harper's heart if her father followed down the same path as her brother. But torture did some crazy things to a person's mind, as well as their body. The sheriff might have made a deal with the devil to ensure he never had to suffer like he had again.

"Where do you plan to take them if not a hospital?" Tessa questioned skeptically.

"The clubhouse?" Bear suggested.

"She needs a hospital," Tessa insisted. "She needs x-rays and an ultrasound at the very least."

"Unless you can guarantee sneaking her in and out of your hospital without paperwork or questions, we need another option." Bulldog looked pointedly at Tessa, but a shake of her head confirmed that going to her hospital wasn't possible with those parameters. "Where else would have the equipment you need?"

Tessa scratched her forehead, bewildered. "The clinic on Main might, but they're not open this time of night. Plus Dr. Voigt generally sends people to the ER for anything more than a Band-Aid."

"What about a vet clinic?" Bear suggested specifically. "They would have an x-ray machine and an ultrasound."

"I'm sure they would, but what veterinarian is going to agree to us using their equipment on a person after being woken up after midnight?" his ol' lady asked him in return.

Bear and Bulldog exchanged a look while Tessa and Carlos watched them with curiosity. Finally, Bulldog said, "We know a vet. We just…need someone else to do the asking."

Tessa's eyebrows shot up. Carlos, however, caught on to what, or rather who, they were hinting at. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he hissed in a low voice. "You're going to call Jumper up to have him ask Jazz to use her animal clinic's equipment because you know damn well that poor girl can't say no to him?"

Bulldog flinched at the accusation in Carlos's voice. It was well known around the club, and probably the town, that Dr. Jasmine Sharpe, DVM, had a crush on Jumper, the club's Secretary. That fact was known to everyone…except Jumper.

Jumper was a loner, but not by choice. The former Navy SEAL had severe PTSD from his time with the teams. Panic attacks, flashbacks, and blackouts were only a few of his symptoms. Years ago, it had gotten so bad that his therapist had considered having him committed to a facility that specialized in veterans with PTSD. While the club hadn't wanted to see him go, they were behind him if that was what he'd needed to get better. Jumper had been considering going but, instead, his therapist's application for a service dog had come through. That was how he'd gotten Aerial. The German Shepherd was a former police dog who had to retire from duty after being shot. In adopting her, she'd saved Jumper's life. He wasn't cured. He still had his bad days—some kids setting off firecrackers in the park last spring had caused a very public flashback—but Jumper was better. Sometimes a little relief, a little comfort, made all the difference.

Since adopting Aerial, Jumper took her regularly to see Dr. Sharpe. The bullet that had ended her police career had fractured her hip. She received shots to help relieve the pain the resulting arthritis caused her. Bulldog, Bear, and other brothers had accompanied Jumper on many of these trips if his brother, the club's new member Pirate, wasn't available to go with him. They'd all seen how Dr. Sharpe looked at Jumper. The curvy vet blushed bright red every time he looked at her.

Jumper was either in the dark or was ignoring the vet's obvious feelings.

"I'll call Jumper," Bear said when Bulldog didn't answer Carlos. "It can't hurt to try."

Carlos scowled after Bear as the man stepped away to make the phone call. "How are you planning on explaining this to Jazz?"

Carlos and Jasmine were friends, had been since high school. They'd graduated a year apart, though Bulldog couldn't remember who had graduated first. Unlike the club who referred to her as ‘Dr. Sharpe', Carlos called her by her nickname ‘Jazz'.

"Let's see if she agrees to help first," was Bulldog's answer. "If she does, I will take Abby to the clinic with Tessa in my cage." Even though he didn't think the kids and Abby were in immediate danger, he wasn't going to risk Tessa's life by sending her off alone. Also, Bulldog wasn't prepared to allow Abby out of his sight. Depending on Jumper's state of mind after being woken up in the middle of the night, Jumper might not be able to meet Tessa and Dr. Sharpe at the clinic either.

"And the girls?" Carlos asked. "Are you taking them to the clubhouse?"

"Two adolescent girls in the clubhouse filled with big, scary men when they're clearly terrified of everything male?" Tessa asked in return. "No. Plus, when we're done at the clinic with Abby, she's going to need somewhere to rest with peace and quiet. She won't get that in the clubhouse. Or ours or Lucky's either, as we both have kids. And Steel still has that mystery houseguest we're not allowed to talk about." Annoyance at the fact that Tessa wasn't in on the secret of said-mysterious houseguest ran through her voice.

Technically, Carlos didn't know about Steel's mystery houseguest. While Bulldog trusted Carlos completely, there were some things that he couldn't share with his brother because it was club business. Carlos was not a club member. He was close with the club, but he wasn't a Demon and therefore Bulldog needed a club vote before he could share certain things with Carlos.

That didn't stop his cop brother from deducing certain things. Bulldog neither confirmed nor denied when Carlos made a statement.

For the past six months, Steel and Jenna had been hosting Clara Everwood and her three-year-old son Kyle in their home. They'd come to the Via Daemonia asking for assistance after Conner, a VDMC brother who died saving Harper's life, had sent her to them. In a letter to Steel, Conner had asked that Clara and Kyle be looked after, in secret, for as long as the Via Daemonia would allow. It had been his dying wish. While Jenna had been trying to get Clara and Kyle more acclimated into the club, the two were basically recluses who remained safely behind closed doors. Bulldog couldn't recall even seeing them at Bear and Tessa's re-wedding earlier.

The club was forbidden to discuss Clara and Kyle. Tessa had spoken out of line and, after a moment, seemed to know it. She turned wide eyes on Bulldog. "I am so sorry."

He shook his head, indicating they would not be discussing it further at that time. To not draw more attention to her slip-up, Bulldog said, "We'll take them to my house. Mom's there to help out with the girls. Between Carlos and the club, they'll have protection. Whomever did this to Abby obviously traumatized the girls too."

Bulldog had not forgotten Danny's claim that the teenager believed he had found them when Danny had approached the cage. Who was he?

Carlos nodded his head in agreement. "Tessa, can you see if you can get the girls into the cruiser? Look them over if they let you. We need to get everyone out of the cold."

She nodded and walked around to the driver's side of the minivan.

Bear walked back over to them. "Jumper's going to call Dr. Sharpe. He'll call me back with an answer."

"How was he?" Bulldog asked gently. Sudden noises, like a phone going off in the middle of the night, could make Jumper panic.

Bear grimaced. "I don't think he'd gone to sleep yet." Which meant Jumper hadn't been planning to go to sleep that night.

Though the club offered rooms to its members, Jumper and his brother shared a two-bedroom apartment in town. Jumper had a hard time working at the club's garage as a mechanic during the day. The loud noises and shouts could trigger him. Since sleep was difficult for Jumper, he worked part-time at night. The nights that he wasn't working at the garage, he tended to be up late. Having his brother in the apartment helped to calm some of Jumper's anxiety, knowing his brother was there to have his back.

A cold breeze made Bulldog shiver through his coat. "Fuck," he muttered. "Maybe seeing Dr. Sharpe will be a good thing." Jumper might be oblivious to Dr. Sharpe's feelings for him, but Bulldog had seen the way Jumper looked at her too. He wished his friend would get his head out of his ass and see what was right in front of his face.

"I'll take Abby and Tessa to see Dr. Sharpe. I need you to take their cage to Grumpy's garage," Bulldog told him. "We can't risk someone seeing it outside my house."

Bear stared him right in the eye as he said, "Look out for my ol' lady."

As SAA, it was Bulldog's job to look after everyone in the club. Members, ol' ladies, club kids… They all fell under Bulldog's protection. "Nothing will happen to her."

Bear nodded his appreciation. "I'll check it for trackers too."

All of the club members had the access code to the large iron gates surrounding the garage property. There were plenty of spare vehicles at the garage that Bear could get a ride home in.

Bulldog gave him a chin lift before walking over to Abby. He opened the door and squatted down in front of her. She automatically put a hand on his bearded cheek. Bulldog pressed his hand against hers, turning his mouth so he could press his lips to the pulse on her wrist. "We're trying to see if there's a clinic we can take you to. One of my brothers is going to hopefully call me back soon. Tessa wants to do an ultrasound on your baby."

Abby looked over at where Carlos was standing next to Bear, who was holding the little girl. She was asleep against his shoulder with a blanket wrapped loosely around her. Carlos saw Bear's struggle to get the blanket tighter and quickly assisted.

He understood Abby's confusion without her having to ask. "I'm a member of a motorcycle club." He pointed to his cut, twisting so she could see the rockers on his back. Turning back around, he said, "Don't worry, we're the good guys. I consider the members of my club my brothers, in addition to Carlos."

Abby nodded, even though he wasn't sure she completely understood. He wished he could tell her that she could go to sleep and he'd take care of her, but he was pretty sure Tessa needed her awake for the scans or tests that she wanted to get done.

"He'll find us if you take us to a hospital. He'll know I'd go to you."

Bulldog's eyes narrowed. "Who?" he demanded harshly. It had been sixteen years; who would even know about him? "Who the fuck did this to you, Red?"

Despite his anger, her lips twitched. "No one's called me that in a lot of years. I forgot how much I like it."

"Answer my question, Red," Bulldog ordered through gritted teeth. He added the ‘Red' because he still would do anything to see her smile.

She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes closed. "My dad. My dad did this to me."