Chapter 4

Abby didn't know how he did it. José just sat there talking and somehow brought her back to reality. It was like he knew exactly what to do and what not to do.

Abby was aware she'd overreacted to Tessa's choice of words. It wasn't Tessa's fault that Abby was such a fighter that she'd had to be strapped down to be bred. God, she hated that word. Bred. Like she was a fucking broodmare being paired with a stud. Except, that was exactly what she'd been. Despite her being what they considered advanced age, Abby had been unable to escape the reality of the women—or better description, girls—around her indefinitely. She'd been living in a community of pedophiles who used their religion as an excuse for their proclivities.

It was sick and disgusting—and Abby had suffered for fighting back. Her escape the night before hadn't been her first attempt. It had just been the time she'd succeeded. Perhaps she'd subconsciously known that her baby was a girl or maybe it was just fear of what would happen if it was a girl, but Abby knew she had to escape before her baby was born. As soon as she'd discovered she was pregnant again, Abby had started planning. When she met Milly, her odds of success had changed.

"…I don't know. I mean, a minivan is such a Mom Car, but these safety ratings are outstanding. I think a test drive is in order. There's absolutely nothing on this website to indicate whether it is tall enough for a guy like me. That's why I was thinking of getting an SUV. The club has three Suburbans, and I fit nicely in those with room to spare. I don't want to feel like I'm driving a clown car if we get a minivan."

"I kinda want to see you squeeze into a clown car."

José's head popped up. He was sitting on the bathroom floor with his back against the door. His long legs were straight out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He put his phone down on the floor by his hip. "Hey."

She smiled tiredly at him. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

Abby shrugged, a bit embarrassed she'd overreacted. "Got a bit of a headache."

His look was sympathetic. "Let's get you back to bed. You can lay down and Tessa can get you something for your headache. Plus, you haven't eaten yet."

Abby shrugged. "I'm used to that."

José scowled at her. "Never again, Abs. I don't care what you're ‘used to'. You will never miss a meal again. You will never know hunger or thirst or fear or any of it." He stood. If she didn't know him so well, she'd have been terrified of the anger radiating off of him. But she did know him—and she knew José would never hurt her or her baby. "I won't allow it. Do you understand me?"

She nodded tiredly.

Though still visibly upset, José's touch was gentle as he picked her up off of the toilet seat. Abby rested her head against his hard chest. Her hand played with the end of his long salt-and-peppered beard. "You know, I used to wonder what you'd look like as a man. Never pictured you with a beard, though." Her eyes raised up to his bare scalp. "Or bald." Her hand went to his forearm covered in his black long sleeve shirt. "Or so many muscles covered with tattoos."

He let out a low chuckle as he headed towards the door. Abby kept her head tucked against him so she couldn't see if others were in the hallway. She knew at least Tessa had witnessed her freak out. She didn't know who else was in the house but figured there had to be more adults than just her, Tessa, José, and Louisa.

Realizing something, Abby picked her head up as José neared the bed. "This is your childhood bedroom."

His lips twitched. "Yes, it is."

"That means you still live with your mom. Why?"

José placed her back on the bed, fluffing her pillows as needed. Then he walked over to the dresser where the plate he'd brought in before still was. He scrunched his nose at it. With a quick, "be right back," he left the room. Abby noticed a glass of water on the nightstand and reached for it.

Her throat and mouth were dry. Abby bit back a cry of pain as she awkwardly scooted over. She was trying to reach for the glass when suddenly there was a big hand grabbing for it.

Abby's first instinct was to flinch away, her mind telling her that the water was being withheld from her or that she had to earn it. When she looked up, though, José was standing on the side of the bed, holding the water glass out to her.

Tentatively, she accepted it. "Thank you."

He gave her a single nod, though the sadness in his eyes made her think that he'd guessed the thoughts going through her head. She cast her eyes downward again.

An awkward silence fell in the room as Abby sipped the water. She felt like she should apologize for her thoughts but didn't know how to describe it without insulting him.

Jostling on the bed made Abby look up. José was sitting on the corner at the foot of the bed. She noted that it was the furthest on the bed from her.

"I'm aware that, with your past, you can't help certain instincts." He didn't look at her as he spoke. Instead, he was staring out the window before him. "I don't take it personally, Abs. I need to remember that my instincts are not always what you need. I'm sorry I startled you. I saw you reaching for the glass and didn't want you to hurt yourself stretching to reach it."

He looked over his shoulder at her. His brown-gold eyes blazed with sincerity. "But please, Abby, please don't be afraid of me. I'd sooner cut off my own arm and eat it then do anything to hurt you."

Abby swallowed the last of the water. "I know that, José. I do. I didn't hear or see you enter the room. You just startled me."

"I can wear a bell around my neck if it helps," he offered with a half-smile.

Her lips twitched. "Make it a cowbell, and you got yourself a deal."

José looked over his shoulder at the open doorway. "Let me go see if your new toast is ready." He pointed to the water glass. "I'll refill that for you too." She handed him over the empty glass.

While José was gone, Tessa came in. She apologized profusely for causing Abby to get upset, but Abby waved her off. She hadn't told any of them what had happened to her or Cassie. It was understandable that something like what had happened would happen. She didn't blame Tessa at all.

Tessa put the IV catheter in the back of her hand this time. "I want to leave it there for quick access even if you're not hooked up to a line. Especially with the baby coming soon."

Abby nodded. "Thank you."

José walked in with a tray as Tessa left. He had several glasses of water, a plate, and a bowl. She wasn't sure what was in the bowl, but there were at least four pieces of toast on the plate.

"I'm not going to be able to eat all that," she warned him.

José placed the tray over her lap. "Try," was all he said before he rounded to the other side of the bed and crawled on. He positioned himself next to her with their shoulders touching.

In the bowl was chicken noodle soup. Abby reached for a piece of toast and saw it had been buttered. She hadn't had butter in a long time, she realized. Wanting to stay in the moment, she needed to get him talking. "So, you still live with your mom," she prompted again.

He rolled his eyes. She didn't fool him for a second. "Yes, I'm a thirty-four-year-old man who lives with his mom. I had my own place but, about four years ago, Carlos and I moved back in. Mom was struggling financially and had been trying to hide it. We didn't want her to have to get a job, so we moved back in to help take care of her and the house."

"That's so sweet." Abby took another bite. "And I'd expect nothing less from you. What happened after I left? With her cancer, I mean."

José turned his head and looked down at her. "I'd rather talk about what happened to you after you left."

The piece of bread she'd just swallowed turned sour in her belly. "I'm not ready to talk about that."

"You need to give me something, Abs. I need to know what's coming so I can protect you."

Abby put her partly bitten toast back on the plate, her appetite gone. "It's not your job to protect me, José."

"Bullshit," he countered. There was a hardness to his voice now. "You knew exactly what would happen if you came to me, Red. You knew that you'd be safe with me."

"Being safe with you and you keeping me safe are two different things," Abby argued. She didn't want her past touching José any more than it already would.

He reached over and turned her head towards him. While his expression was hard, his touch was not. "Let me explain something to you, Abigail Knight. You're mine. That means something completely different than when we were kids. It means that you're mine to love, protect, live, kill, and die for. It means that it isn't just my duty to protect you, but my privilege.

"My brothers and I will do everything in our power to not only see that you never face hardship again but also see to it that those who harmed you are punished and dealt with. Your past is over with. Your future is mine. Your children are now mine. You are mine. Do you understand?"

Her heart was beating thunderously in her chest. She felt cold and hot at the same time. His words resonated inside her like they were imprinting on her soul. No one but José had ever had this effect on her.

Sixteen years ago, when Abby had realized what her parents had plotted, she hadn't contemplated the real meaning of the word prisoner yet. Over the years, different men believed they owned her. Bought and paid for. She'd fought their possession, believing that no man could own her.

She was wrong. This man did. And, despite her trauma, she didn't mind it. In fact, she craved it. José Santiago had owned her body and soul since she was five years old and an apple juice box had broken over her lap.

There was a difference, though. José might be bossy and possessive, using terms like you're mine, but the truth was just the opposite. He was hers. José's claim meant nothing without her own claim on him. It was her claim that gave his power. That was what her father and the men who called themselves her masters hadn't understood and would never understand. True power over another person was given, not taken.

Careful of the tray on her lap, Abby reached over to touch his cheek just as he was touching hers. "I'm yours," she reiterated. "And you're mine."

"Fuck yeah." He leaned down and gently took her lips. She'd missed kissing him so much. Pulling away from her, José nodded towards her plate. "Please eat. We don't have to talk about your past right now, but we will need to talk about it, Abs. I'm sorry."

She was too, but not for the reason he probably thought. "Where are Caleb and the girls?"

"When I went into the kitchen to get your toast, they were in the living room with my mom and Jenna. It looked like they were trying to unknot the girls' hair."

Abby self-consciously raised a hand to her own mop of long hair. "Who's Jenna?"

"You got a lot of new people to learn," José smiled at her. "I heard Tessa offer to show you her list. Probably not a bad idea. My club has fifteen patched members, including myself, and three prospects. Rather than overwhelm you with a list of faceless people, I'll just start with the ones you've either already met or are in the house.

"Bear was with Carlos and me last night. He's Tessa's husband, do you remember him?" She nodded. "He's our Road Captain. It means he plans our outings and organizes the poker runs and such. Jumper met us at the clinic. He might have already been out of the room before you woke up though. I'm not sure if you saw him."

"Reddish-brown hair, full beard, completely in love with the vet?"

José smiled proudly down at her. "That's my girl. Yes, that's Jumper. He's our Secretary. He's quiet, but a really good listener. He's someone you should get to know. He's got PTSD from his time with the teams."

Abby nodded her understanding. "That's how you knew what to do in the bathroom."

José nodded back. "I've had to help Jumper a time or two over the years after he's been triggered. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on with you, but I knew enough to keep my distance and make sure you knew I was there."

"It worked, whatever you did," she said softly, still a little embarrassed.

"That brings us to Steel. He's our President and it was his idea to start our club. He wanted somewhere safe for veterans to live and socialize back into society. Jenna is his wife and ol' lady."

"Ol' lady, huh?" Abby's voice was joking. "Am I your ol' lady, Bulldog?"

José's face was entirely serious when he answered, "Yes." Her breath hitched at the intensity in his gaze. Then he pointed to a new piece of toast. "Keep eating."

She exaggeratedly picked up a piece and took a big bite. He just smiled cockily at her. Abby chewed before swallowing. "What does that mean exactly, being your ol' lady?"

"I just told you what it means. It means you're mine."

A part of her wanted him to explain it again in his low grumbly voice, but she pushed that desire aside. "So Tessa and this Jenna get the same overprotective alpha-ness you're throwing my way?"

José snorted. "I think I'm tame in comparison."

Geez. Abby opened her mouth to respond but a yawn came out instead. José was up in the next second and came around to her side of the bed. He picked up the tray and placed it on the dresser. When he walked back over, he had a glass of water in each hand. He handed one to her and put the other on the nightstand. Sitting on the bed by her hip, he said, "I'll let you get some sleep. How's your headache?"

"Better," she answered, sipping the water. "Thank you."

"You never have to thank me for helping you, Red. Remember, privilege, not duty."

She handed him the water glass. He placed it next to the other one on the nightstand and then stood to help her settle comfortably onto the mattress. He even tucked a pillow between her knees and behind her back. "I'm going to close the door to keep it quiet in here but call out if you need anything. I'll be close."

"Thank you," she said again, even though he'd just told her it was unnecessary.

"Can you tell me anything, Abs? Just something to help us."

She shook her head. "That place… It was horrible, José. I don't want any part of it to touch you."

José leaned down closer. "Listen to me, Abigail Knight. Are you listening?" He waited for her nod before he continued, "You do not need to protect me from anything. I may not like what you have to say, but don't lie or not tell me something to protect me. That's not how this works. You and me? We don't lie to each other."

"It was horrible," she sobbed. "I tried to be so strong. I tried, but I lost my fight a long time ago."

"Not true," he told her. "You fought to get free every day. You remembered where to go once you were free. You didn't let wherever you were change who you are."

Abby sniffled. "I feel changed."

"Of course you do. Everyone changes as they age and learn." He tipped her face up so he could wipe the tears from her eyes. "But you're still my Abby, and that's all I care about."

She was shaking her head again before he finished speaking. "José?—"

"I can't protect you if I don't know what's coming. Tell me something, anything. It can just be his name or why Cassie was so terrified of Carlos's uniform."

Abby let out a scoff. Anger rang in her voice at her next words. "They always made it sound like they were these big, important people to the outside world. That they had so many friends who were policemen and doctors. The others believed, but I didn't. I was too old by the time I got there to believe such lies. Cassie wouldn't know any better."

"It was a control method. If you ever escaped, you would be too terrified of ‘their friends' to seek help from the police or a hospital." José shook his head in disgust. "Rotten, but effective. She was certainly terrified last night."

"They're…evil, José. If there are men who walk this earth with no souls, it's them." Her voice was low.

"You survived," he reminded her. "And you will never have to go back there. Please, Abby, I need a name, a place, anything."

She was quiet for a long moment before she said, "Adrian. And before you ask, I don't know his last name. He's who the girls refer to as ‘Sir' and Cassie's husband."

"You said ‘them'. It was more than just him and your father?"

Her nostrils flared as her chin trembled. "It wasn't just him," she confirmed. "It was a community of people just like him. I had three masters. Adrian was my last, the one I escaped from. Before him was John and before him was Gordon."

It took a moment for José to respond. "Gordon. How did you end up with him?"

Her face scrunched in disgust and she knew her skin was pale under her bruises. "My father sold me to him."

* * *

"A fucking cult?"Keys repeated. "Like Charles Manson, Jim Jones sort of shit?"

After settling Abby down for her nap, Bulldog had gone out into the kitchen where his mom was preparing sandwiches for everyone's lunch. Jenna and Steel had come over that morning after Bear had gone home to be with Maggie. They'd been around helping with the kids since. Once Abby was asleep, Tessa announced she was going to go home to shower, change, and see her baby. Carlos had offered to drive her since he was leaving for work anyway.

They were finishing up lunch when Lucky had stopped in. Harper worked at the high school where Scotty attended as a sophomore. Scotty was one of Bulldog's favorite people. The teenager was a complete lovable goof. No matter what mood Bulldog was in or what stress was in his life in that moment, Scotty had a way of chasing it all away with a hug and a nose-kiss.

Jenna, whom the club kids that weren't her own called ‘aunt', had a very grandmotherly way about her. Like his own mother, Jenna had immediately been swept away by the girls and baby now residing in Bulldog's house. The three highest ranking VDMC officers took advantage of Jenna and Louisa's presence to keep the kids occupied so they could step outside to talk.

The winter morning was in the low forties, which practically felt like summer in comparison to the brisk cold winds they'd had the week before. All three of them had their winter coats and hats on along with their cuts.

After making sure Lucky was caught up on everything from the night before, Bulldog informed both his President and VP about Abby's confession and his take that she had been living in a cult-like community against her will for the last sixteen years. Other than a single documentary Bulldog had watched late one night on Netflix some years ago, he had no experience with cults. He knew they received a bad rep due to people like Charles Manson and situations like the Waco massacre. He was sure there were many peaceful communities out there that someone on the outside would define as a cult simply because they were different.

However, Abby's injuries, pregnancy, and the fact that she kept referring to her escape were proof enough that her community was not peaceful. Not to mention that her son had been taken away from her days after his birth.

Her own father had sold her. To sick and depraved men who had demanded to be called her masters.

No matter his faults, Miguel Santiago had never sold one of his children, knowing they'd be raped and abused. Bulldog couldn't wrap his mind around that mentality. Before Abby had come back into his life, he wasn't a father, but he had been an uncle. There were nine club kids—four adults: Carter, Carter's wife Lacy, Jordan, and Sissy; three teenagers: Melanie, Scotty, and Bree; and two infants: Drew, Steel and Jenna's grandson, and Maggie. Bulldog would live, breathe, and die for all of them. Yes, one could argue that it was his job as the club's SAA, but it was also who he was. Bulldog was a protector at his core. Always had been.

As soon as Abby had given the names of her so-called masters, Bulldog had added their names to his hit-list. Not only was Bulldog going to rain fire and brimstone down on her father, but he was also going to bring his wrath down on Adrian, John, and Gordon. None of the men were long for this world.

Lucky and Steel were shocked by this new revelation. Knowing Keys was still looking into the minivan, Steel immediately called the computer expert to fill him in too.

Key's response would have been humorous under any other circumstances.

"We don't know what sort of community they are," Bulldog replied. "All we know is they have some serious fucked up views on how to treat women."

"Fucked up is…accurate," Keys hedged. "Did Abby tell you her mom was dead?"

Steel and Lucky looked at Bulldog, who was shocked at this news. "No. What happened?"

"I found a police report for a MVA that killed Abby's mom about ten years ago. Let's just say, I don't think it was the accident the police report claims it to be."

"Why?" Steel asked.

"I couldn't find much about the Knights after they left Pennsylvania in 2009. There are no employment records, tax records, mortgages, anything after they left. However, prior to then, I found evidence that Mrs. Knight had had multiple affairs throughout her marriage, including some people that we know who still live in our lovely little town. I also found what can only be described as a manifesto by Mr. Knight. He talks about adultery and sin—and has some pretty messed up opinions on how women should be treated.

"Now, I don't know when the last time any of you researched what the punishment for adultery was before modern times, but it used to be a death sentence rather than alimony payments. Most common method of execution, even in some Christian scriptures, is to stone the adulterer to death."

"What does that have to do with the car accident Mrs. Knight was in?" Bulldog asked.

"I'm getting to that, Mr. Impatience." Lucky covered up a chuckle as Bulldog glared at the phone in Steel's hand. "Mrs. Knight's vehicle was found partly buried in a ravine. She was completely submerged under loose rocks. There were also tire tracks at the top of the road in the direction of the accident. Police reports claim they were made by the drunk driver who ran the cage off the road, but I've analyzed them. Those tire tracks are at the completely wrong angle and far too straight to be a drunk driver."

"Meaning what, Keys?" Steel asked.

"Meaning that I think whoever staged that accident poured rock and debris down into the ravine on top of the cage…and I think Lynn Knight was alive when they did it."

Silence greeted his statement. Bulldog's own jaw dropped as he stared at the phone in Steel's hand.

"The fuck?" Steel finally said. "Are you saying they crashed the cage into the ravine, put an alive woman in the cage, then took a dump truck of rock to crush her to death?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Bulldog could hear the roughness in Keys's voice. "I don't think the police were covering it up, per se. I think they saw the accident and called it a day. As far as they were concerned, it was an open and closed case."

Bulldog dropped his head, his hands laced behind his neck. "Except it wasn't! If they'd looked into it more, maybe they would have found Abby! Maybe she wouldn't have been—" His voice cut off. He couldn't say it.

He felt his face heat with anger for the injustice done to both Mrs. Knight and Abby. Bulldog went down to one knee, no longer certain he could have remained standing. Mrs. Knight might have been a bad wife and mother, but she didn't deserve to be stoned to death.

And Abby?

Bulldog took some deep breaths in an effort to not start hyperventilating. "She needed me and I wasn't there! For sixteen-fucking-years!"

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "You were a kid yourself," Steel said gently. "There's nothing you could have done."

Steel would never be able to convince him of that. Abby was his and he'd failed to protect her. Bottomline. Full stop. End of story.

"She wrote me a letter," he confessed. He'd never even told his mom what had been in the letter she'd forwarded to the Army base for him. "She told me she'd met someone and to move on, because she had. And I just… I accepted it. I…" He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the urge to throw up. "I didn't fight for her."

Lucky said gently, "You can't be so hard on yourself. You think I don't blame myself for not realizing sooner the abuse Sissy was receiving at home from our mom? I didn't know until she was almost three years old that she was being so neglected. Cut yourself some slack."

Bulldog knew the basics of the story about how Lucky had received guardianship of his sister and brother in his early twenties. His mom had become a drug-addict, losing her house to the bank and neglecting her children. Lucky had left the Marines after four years to take custody of his much younger siblings, whom he would later adopt and think of as his own children. Bulldog was pretty sure Bear, Lucky's best friend, was the only VDMC brother who knew Sissy and Scotty's full history, mostly because he'd been there to witness it for himself.

In a twisted way, Lucky was someone who could relate to the crippling guilt Bulldog was facing.

Bulldog looked up at Lucky from his place on the ground. "Do you still blame yourself?"

Lucky held out his hand to him. "Every fucking day." Bulldog accepted the offered hand and let Lucky pull him to his feet. Lucky put a hand on his shoulder. "You know what helps me feel better? Seeing my kids now. Seeing how wonderful and healthy and smart they are. Knowing that I may not have been able to save Sissy from pain then, but I'll damn sure be there to save her from any pain now."

Bulldog nodded. "Give her the future she deserves."

"Exactly. And maybe kick some ass along the way."

Bulldog let out a weak chuckle. "Thanks, man. It's… I can't…" He cleared his throat, not completely sure how to explain the crushing weight he felt on his chest since he'd discovered Abby in the minivan last night.

"No need to explain. We'd have to turn in our man-cards if either of us tried." Lucky nudged Bulldog's arm with his shoulder. "But I'm available if you want to get a beer and not talk about it."

"Deal." Bulldog took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He looked to Steel, who'd stepped back to give Lucky and him space. "Keys, what else did you discover?"

"Well, I have good news and bad news," Keys said from the phone. "The minivan was purchased, used, by Marla Jones of Roanoke, West Virginia in 2010. Registration was last paid for it six years ago, finally lapsing in September 2022. There have been no traffic tickets, violation tickets, or anything relating to the car since. However, records show that Marla Jones passed away last year. Heart attack. Obituary states she left behind a son. I was able to track him down, but he lives in Chicago. After some more digging, I was able to find a cash deposit he made two months after Marla's passing for eleven hundred dollars. According to Kelly Bluebook, that's roughly what that minivan would be worth. Since it was cash, there's no way to verify he actually sold the minivan or who he sold it to. The DMV has no records of the minivan title exchanging hands. However, if I was a cult member who didn't want to leave a paper trail, I might not go to the DMV to report that I purchased an old minivan."

"Is that the good news or the bad news?" Steel inquired. "None of that tells us anything pertinent to Abby's situation."

"That's the bad news," Keys said. "Basically, the minivan is a dead end. I can head over to Grumpy's and dust for prints or look for anything else that might lead us to where it came from. Hopefully, though, Abby will be able to tell us that when she wakes up."

"Let's drop the minivan for now," Steel told him. "Make sure it's well hidden and can't be tracked to Grumpy's garage. Since we are dealing with a cult, we don't know their reach. It might not be just one man hunting Abby and those kids. Potentially a whole community of people could be. Have you found any evidence that anyone is looking for them?"

"That's the good news—or at least it's not bad news. There has been no child abduction, including infants, reported in the Tri-State area. I went back two weeks and nothing. Only thing was a Silver Alert in New Jersey. No one has reported Caleb or those girls missing."

"What about Abby?" Bulldog asked, even though he doubted Adrian would report any of them missing to the authorities. It would bring attention to him, his community, and the fact that he married a teenager and impregnated a woman against her will. Not that a marriage to a child was legal in any way.

"There's an Abigail Rivera who went missing in Tampa, Florida three weeks ago. Any other recent reports regarding the name ‘Abigail' or ‘Abby' were later canceled." There was a clicking in the background. Bulldog assumed Keys was typing on his computer.

"I highly doubt they have been on the run for three weeks," Lucky said skeptically. "Plus, Florida makes no sense. Roanoke is, what, a four-hour drive from here? It makes more sense that that minivan was purchased in that area and kept in that area. I find it very hard to believe that they made it all the way from Tampa, Florida without someone noticing them in an expired minivan."

"But West Virginia?" Bulldog challenged. "They moved to Charleston, South Carolina."

"And they couldn't have moved again?" Lucky asked him. "Or maybe not even moved there at all?"

"There's another possibility we haven't considered yet." Steel scratched his short-cropped beard. "What if none of them are in the system? Depending on how the cult is run and how restrictive they are, they might not report births or create IDs for any of their members. Keys might be searching for people that, according to the United States Government, don't exist. Abby was underage when she left here."

"Fuck," came across the phone. "Steel's got a point. It's certainly a possibility that those girls have no paper trail. No birth certificate, social security card, credit cards, social media… Everything I would use to find someone."

"What about Adrian?" Bulldog inquired, a sour taste on his tongue at the man's name. "He's the one she says they escaped from. Could you find him?"

Keys let out a frustrated sigh. "I guess it will depend on if he exists. I think I'll have better luck looking for a cult near Roanoke, West Virginia than I will trying to narrow down men named ‘Adrian' in that area. Plus, there's the different variations of how to spell Adrian, with an ‘a-n' or an ‘e-n'."

"The other two men who purchased her over the years are Gordon and John."

Keys let out a sardonic snort. "Great. Could they have any more generic of names?"

"See what you can find," Steel told Keys. "We also need to look for a connection between this community and Mateo Castillo's organization. Juan contacted me back this morning. He claims he has no connections to any cults, nor did he know of any his brother was connected to. He will make inquiries regarding the name ‘Cameron' and get back to me."

"Have him call me directly if he finds out anything," Keys told Steel. "I have a lot of unknowns here and I don't want to miss anything."

"Will do," Steel said. "If we learn anything here, we'll let you know."

"Sounds good. Later, boys," Keys said before hanging up.

Steel pocketed his phone and adjusted his jacket. "Other than Mrs. Knight's suspected murder, we haven't learned anything new. I don't like being in the dark."

Bulldog shared his President's frustration. "Abby's still asleep," he said. "I don't know how much more information we'll be able to get out of her today, and I'm not prepared to have a sit-down with those kids and question them. Cassie jumps at every noise. At lunch, Lila spilt her milk—which, by the way, she's never had before—and crawled under the table to protect herself thinking she was going to be beaten for it." Both fathers, Steel and Lucky gritted their teeth at Bulldog's words. "I am not going to force those kids to answer questions unless we have no other option. They've been through enough."

"There's also the question of how Abby knew how to find you," Lucky pointed out. "If she's been as secluded as she says for the past sixteen years, how could she possibly still know that you lived in the same town as you did when you knew her?"

Bulldog felt his hackles rise. "Are you suggesting she's lying about where she's been?"

"Easy," Lucky quickly held up his hands. "I'm not suggesting anything against Abby. All I'm saying is it's suspicious. How do you think she found you?"

"I don't know!" Bulldog snapped in frustration. "All I know is that the girl I have loved since I was six years old is currently lying in my bed—battered, traumatized, and pregnant—and I am going to kill any motherfucker who dared touch her!"

Silence fell among the men. Bulldog was aware he'd just proclaimed something he had never said out loud before to his brothers, but he didn't regret it. He'd felt jilted his entire adult life in the love department. The moment Abby came back into his life, that feeling had vanished.

Steel broke the silence. "We need answers. I know it's not ideal in their current condition, but we need to know how they ended up in Mount Grove. Lucky's right, Bulldog. And we can't protect them from what we don't know is coming."

Bulldog was aware of that. "Carlos's schedule is erratic. I'm going to pull two prospects to help protect the house," Bulldog announced. He didn't need to ask permission. As SAA, he had the authority when it came to club protection. Based on their bylaws, Steel could overrule him, which would then lead to a vote. So far, Steel had never challenged Bulldog on any decision he'd made. Though, prior to this last year, Bulldog was sure Steel had thought him having a security gate placed around club property and assigning prospects to monitor the gate entry was overkill.

"Take anyone you need," Steel said. "I'm sure Jenna will be by to look in on the kids often." Which meant that Steel would also be coming by. There was no way in hell Steel was allowing his ol' lady to come without him. Jenna was a Marine's wife. He'd trained her to take care of herself and their children in his absence, but that didn't mean Steel didn't consider it his responsibility to look after her.

Now that Abby was back in his life, he understood his brothers' possessiveness over their ol' ladies in a whole new way.

"Until we learn more about their situation, I don't want Harper or Scotty here," Lucky told Bulldog, pulling him from his possessive thoughts. "I'll be here if you need me, but I also need to keep them safe."

Bulldog nodded his understanding. "You do what you need to do, brother. There's enough of us that you can stay with your family."

Bulldog didn't mention that he had no doubt Scar was around too. Likely, he was listening in on the three officers' conversation right now. Bulldog couldn't help but peek around to see if he spotted Scar. Unsurprisingly, he didn't.

Bulldog pulled out his phone to text their two newest prospects.

Six months ago, the club had lost one of their own. Conner had been a prospect for roughly nine months with the VDMC. He'd been shot trying to rescue Bear, Lucky, and Harper from her parents' house. Bear had been keeping pressure on Conner's wound when Conner had gotten him free of the zip ties binding his hands. Lucky had already been beaten bloody trying to protect Harper from being taken away from him. Bear had had to choose between remaining where he was and keeping Conner from bleeding out or to go after Harper and stop her from being gang-raped by Mateo Castillo's men. According to Bear, it had been Conner who'd told Bear to leave him and rescue Harper. "The kid never even hesitated," was Bear's exact wording when he'd described what had happened.

Despite being a prospect when he'd died, Conner had been buried in full colors and had been given the road name ‘Lionheart'. It was the club's way of honoring his sacrifice towards one of their ol' ladies. Furthermore, Harper and Lucky had announced that they were having a boy at a gender-reveal party in December. Harper hadn't known she'd been pregnant when they'd been taken hostage. Conner had not only saved her life, but that of their unborn baby. They were naming their son ‘Conner' in his memory.

At the time of Conner's death, the club had had three prospects, Conner, Quinten, and Gus. Last September, Gus had been patched in as a full member and had taken the road name ‘Pirate'. He'd lost his right leg during his last tour overseas and had been medically discharged. Years later, he was finally coming to terms with his amputation. Scotty had liked to refer to Gus as ‘Peg Legged Gus' when he'd been a prospect and had even gifted Gus with a pirate eye patch and hat for him to wear. Gus, in good spirits, had worn the eye patch and hat any time he knew Scotty was coming around the clubhouse. Scotty had been so proud when Gus had chosen Pirate as his road name.

Quinten was due to be patched over soon. He needed a unanimous vote from every club member to be patched in. However, Bulldog knew he'd get the votes. Quinten, or Q, was a good man and had never questioned a single thing asked of him during his prospect year. Most likely the vote would be held at the first Church meeting in March.

Around Thanksgiving, the club had taken on two new prospects, and might be adding a third soon. William, who also went by Will, was a former Army Ranger. He reminded Bulldog of the character Hannibal from The A-Team show. He was very good at puzzles and thinking three steps ahead. Bulldog made a mental note to have him pair up with Keys to see if he could help lighten some of Keys's current workload.

Sara was the second female to prospect for the club. She was a former Nighthawk pilot and had flown in some of the most dangerous airspaces in the world. She was a total badass. At first, Bulldog had worried that Angel, their only female member, would take it personally that the club was accepting another woman. However, the first night Sara had worn her prospect cut, Bulldog had found Angel and Sara laughing and drinking like old friends. He'd keep an eye on the two, but he had a good feeling that Sara would fit in nicely with the VDMC.

A few weeks back, an old CO of Steel's had reached out to him. Mitch was in his mid-sixties, a former Recon Marine, and a POW. He was also recently widowed and looking for a change of scenery. While Bulldog was looking forward to meeting the man who'd taught Steel everything he knows, Bulldog wasn't sure how he'd feel about Mitch as a prospect. Prospects were given shit-jobs and had to do anything a patched member or ol' lady asked of them, no matter the time of day or what they were currently doing. Bulldog would be conflicted between giving respect to an honored veteran and giving him the typical shit the members ragged on the prospects for. He was reserving judgement for his vote towards allowing Mitch to prospect until he met the man in person.

"I'll stay the afternoon," Steel announced. "Let's see if we can get some answers from Abby. Lucky, it's your choice if you want to stay or go."

Lucky glanced at his watch. "School's about to let out. I'd prefer to head home to see Harper and Scotty." He looked at Bulldog. "You call me if you need me."

Bulldog nodded. "I know that, brother." The two man-hugged, slapping the other on the back. "Thank you for coming now."

Lucky was a very successful artist. He'd found a niche in the market welding metal statues and donating a portion of his profits directly to the National Down Syndrome Society. Scotty posed with every piece prior to it shipping or being posted as available for sale on Lucky's website. Scotty also wrote thank you notes for every piece his father sold. Since he owned his own business, Lucky was able to tweak his schedule as needed. He tried very hard to work when Harper and Scotty were at school and to be home when they arrived each day to greet them. Lucky was a dedicated family-man. It was admirable to watch.

Lucky and Steel embraced before he turned and headed towards his cage parked on the side of the road in front of Bulldog's house. Steel's cage, a full cab F250, was also parked out front. There was no room for extra vehicles in the driveway with Bulldog's cage now parked behind the cage Bear had borrowed from the garage.

Bulldog turned to Steel. "We can't stay here indefinitely. Even if Abby gives us the answers we need, my house is too small. Did you get my text about the last plot?"

Steel nodded. "I did and I approve, but that's still going to take time."

"I know, but the sooner we can break ground, the better. If I was still living in the clubhouse, I have no idea what I'd do. Bringing them here wasn't a smart tactical decision, but what choice did I have?"

"I've been thinking about that too," Steel agreed. "I need to speak with Demo. There's a plot of land a couple acres behind the clubhouse that has an old rundown shack. Probably used back in the day when the ranchers needed to stay out with the herds overnight." Before the property used to be a distillery, it was farmland. "With Clara and Kyle in my house, it's occurred to me that we might need use of a residence or two that people in need could use."

"What are you thinking?"

"Same sort of set up as the modular homes Lucky, Bear, and Angel have. We wouldn't need anything so big, but maybe a trailer or two. Just something we can use for emergency housing for someone else in a situation like Clara's or Abby's instead of our own homes."

Bulldog liked the idea. "Wished you'd thought of that before Bear sold his house."

Steel shook his head. "The point would be to be on club property."

"Do we have the scratch for something like that?"

"That's why I need to talk to Demo. We might have to start out with one and eventually add a second. Also need to talk to Cage." Demo was the club's Treasurer. Cage was a patched member who owned a construction company. "I plan to keep the structures off the books, but the land itself might not be useable for something like this."

"Also need to think about security," Bulldog added. "With it being so far away from the clubhouse, we'd need to figure out rotating shifts or a security system to ensure whoever is residing there is safe. I've already had Keys update the security cameras and sensors now that Lucky, Bear, and Angel have moved their families onto club property."

"We'll bring it up on Friday at the next officer's meeting," Steel said with a nod. "Get everyone's opinion before we move forward. Plus, we'd need the vote before we could purchase a unit."

As long as money wasn't an issue, Bulldog couldn't see anyone voting against the idea.

Bulldog shifted slightly to look back at his house. "I know we need answers, but I also know I'm not going to like anything about her past. I might need to step out if things get too heavy." He didn't want to scare Abby with his anger.

"Most likely Abby will need a break too. She doesn't need to tell us everything today."

Bulldog took a deep breath. "I've never understood how one human being could be so cruel to another. Take away gender, race, age… It's never made any sense to me. I thought I'd seen it all. Escaped cult members didn't even occur to me when Carlos and I were bouncing ideas off of each other last night."

Steel put his hand on Bulldog's shoulder. "No one saw this coming. We'll do what we need to do to protect Abby and those kids. At the end of the day, their past is just background noise. Focus on the threat before you and block out the rest."

It was a sniper's trick. They used tunnel vision to focus only on what was in their crosshairs. Magicians used it too as a way to focus the audience's attention where they needed it to be. It was also referred to as theDancing Bear trick.

"Their past isn't background noise to them." Bulldog's voice was soft as he spoke. "Eventually, we're going to have to get all of them to see therapists."

"One thing at a time. Let's go see if your Abby is awake."