play games. He’s had this coming a long time.”
“Can I interrogate him before you do your thing?” asked Dog.
He trusted Dog, so he didn’t hesitate to nod his approval. What were Dog’s thoughts on this? He didn’t like his men second-guessing Beth. Whoever did betray the club wasn’t going to have a good night.
Several boys went ahead of them, their guns at the ready. They would have already been picked up on security, so they needed to move fast. Peterson’s men came rushing out the side entrance and down the narrow walkway. Redneck and Slash took them down fast, blood splattering the stone walls of the house. He stepped over the bodies as they made their way inside. There were footsteps running upstairs and dogs barking.
“Fan out. Find that motherfucker and bring him to me,” said Forge.
The interior of the house was impressive, but not the kind of place he’d want to raise a family. Everything was white with sharp, modern lines. The wide-open spaces had hard, clinical-looking furniture. He tried to imagine Beth living here as a kid. She’d told him it was cold and love wasn’t something she was ever offered. Seeing it firsthand was like a blow to the chest.
He was supposed to protect her, to give her the family she never had.
Forge’s rage built as he searched the house, kicking open doors and checking every room. He wanted Peterson to suffer, to feel the same fear and humiliation he’d put his daughter through. He could beg for his life, but Forge wasn’t a saint. Once he decided a man was going down, he always followed through.
“Boss!”
He rushed to the voice, his heavy footfalls echoing in the hallway. Redneck held open a door and used his gun to point inside a room at the end of the hall. Forge stepped inside, scanning the second-story room. Peterson sat behind a large oak desk centered on an ornate carpet.
The bastard choked back a laugh. “No refunds.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” asked Forge. “Don’t tell me you’re referring to your own daughter.”
“You took the girl, so the debt is paid. That was the deal.”
“Wrong, motherfucker. I said it bought you time. The debt never goes away until it’s paid. As for your daughter, I own her now. If it makes you feel better, call her interest paid.”
Dog joined them in the room.
“What other debts do you have, Peterson?” asked Forge. “There’s been word of you talking shit about my club.”
The old man shrugged. “Have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He nodded to Dog. His VP was extremely talented when it came to making cocky bastards talk. Dog walked around the desk and used his boot to spin Peterson’s chair around. Then immediately capped him in the knee. Dog holstered his gun then sat on the edge of the desk as he watched Peterson wail and clutch his shattered knee.
The cries carried when Dog grabbed a handful of his hair and held a blade to his neck. “You talked to someone in our club. Someone who gave you privileged information that you used to pay off other debts. Don’t fucking lie to me. I have all day, and I’ll be spending it here with you—unless you start talking and naming names.”
It always amazed Forge how men gave up everything once you added a little pain. Didn’t they realize it wasn’t going to end until they were in a body bag?
“They wanted to know about Beth.”
Forge wasn’t expecting this. “What are you talking about?” asked Forge, stepping closer.
“Word got around that you’d fallen for her. Not a good idea in your world, but I’m sure you already know that. Your enemies wanted inside information so they could use her against you. Get you to bow down or something. I forget exactly what they said.”
“What information did you give our rivals? Who gave it to you?” Forge’s voice was growing louder to match the level of his fucking anxiety. This entire visit was to prove to his men that Beth hadn’t sold out the club, but it was someone in his club selling out Beth. And he didn’t even know where she was. For all he knew, this was all a trap, and they got what they wanted.
“Your guy wanted Beth gone. They gave me information to make it easy to find her in the club, her routines, and stuff like that,” said Peterson.
Dog pressed the muzzle of his gun against the old man’s shot-up knee, making him squeal like