Brick Brick (Knights Corruption MC - Next Generation, #4) - S. Nelson Page 0,79

gripping up my stepmother, he snatched me by the back of the hair. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You’re offerin’ up yourself instead.” It was the first time Braylen found out I’d been telling them to take me instead of her, and the scream that tore from her throat as he dragged me away sliced deep, but her distress also gave me an odd sense of purpose.

I did for her what no one was able to do for me.

36

When Cutter, Hawke, and his two cousins finally arrived back at the clubhouse, all of us hustled outside toward the van, eager to see what types of supplies they’d come back with. We all had our own guns, some of the guys having more than a few, but what we saw was nothing in comparison. Semi-automatic weapons, hand grenades, sawed-off shotguns, and smoke bombs were just some of the items littering the back. I believed I even saw a grenade launcher.

“Good work, cuz,” Tripp said, slapping Ford on the back before jerking his chin toward Owen. “This shit is gonna come in handy for sure.” His lighthearted tone made me want to smash his face in, but I realized my reaction was ill-placed. I switched from wanting to explode at everyone and everything in sight to wanting to be alone. But all the solitude did was heighten my fears. I needed my brothers during this time. I also found solace in being near Ryder, knowing he was experiencing the same level of terror I was. We didn’t speak much, but we didn’t need to either.

Marek’s phone rang and he walked away from the group as he answered the call. I only heard a few words before he hung up. Then he headed toward the gate, looking from side to side, his fingers curled around the bars and for some reason I had a vision of him in a jail cell. Weird thought but I was thankful for any other image to occupy my mind right now.

I turned my head to look at Stone, only to follow his line of vision back to Marek, watching as a man walked up and stood in front of him, on the other side of the metal gates. He passed something to Prez, then disappeared. I barely got a chance to look at the stranger, only seeing that he wore a baseball cap, shades, a black T-shirt, and jeans, before Marek made his way back inside, calling for the rest of us to follow.

His hurried steps filled my heart with an ounce of hope he’d received viable information we could use.

As I entered the clubhouse, I looked around to find Morgan, and of course, she was sitting next to Tag. Every step I took toward them was heavy and rushed. But I made a small detour, asking Maddie if she could occupy my cousin while I snatched Tag up for the meeting.

I figured I’d kill two birds, taking Maddie’s mind off being reminded the situation we were now engrossed in was because of her, all without being her fault, and Morgan would have someone to talk to other than being glued to the prospect’s side.

Once seated inside Chambers, Marek didn’t waste any time, slapping the file down on the table. “Based on what Maddie told me, I had my guy dig around, looking for—”

“Is that who that guy was?” Kaden interrupted, scrunching his face when Marek shot him an annoyed glance.

“Yeah. He’s a PI I have on retainer.”

“He’s the one who found the info on Erin, Pike’s sister?”

“Yeah.” Our leader looked around the room and threw his hands out to his sides. “Any other questions before I get back to it?” Silence greeted his question. “As I was sayin’, he looked into any clubs or bars that were associated with the word farm. Nothing. So on a whim, I gave him a radius, given the timeframe Maddie mentioned about when their prospect left, then returned, and had him investigate who owned farmland properties. Long story short,” he said, flipping open the file and rummaging through several of the papers tucked inside, moving some photos out of the way and onto the table, “he found an old farmhouse on twelve acres of land, three and a half hours south of here in San Fernando owned by Betty Holter.”

“Who’s that?” I asked, my patience wearing thin.

“Griller’s mother,” he answered nonchalantly, as if that information should be common knowledge. “Griller’s real name is Adam Holter. He put the place in her