Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

Well, fuck me.

There’s a small square in the floor with a pull ring that fits flat against a recess in the surface so it’s easily concealed under the carpet. “Motherfucker.”

Bracing myself for whatever’s inside, I pry the door open and drop to my belly. As I shove my face into the hidey-hole, my vision’s immediately swallowed by the darkness. “Shelby?”

No answer.

Ice hands me a small flashlight and I use it to illuminate the dark space. All four sides are carpeted. A small stack of books, a pillow, a scratchy-looking blanket, and a bottle of water are arranged neatly in the corner. Waiting to welcome a new prisoner or left from a previous captive?

“What the…?” I whisper. I pull my head out of the space and sit on my heels. “He’s kept someone in there. Or he was planning to. It’s empty now.”

“Who is this sick fucker?” Ice takes my place and checks out the hiding spot.

I press my hands against the dresser next to me. It groans as I shove it sideways. I search the dusty floor and the wall the dresser had been leaning against. No hidden panels or doors.

Together, Ice and I move almost every piece of furniture, toss each throw rug, and scour every available inch of the hardwood floor for hidden latches or panels.

No more hidey-holes.

My gaze lands on the bed again. It looks solid. Heavy. Thick wood with broad, black iron accents.

“Help me flip this thing.” I nod to the bed.

“Bro,” Pants says from the doorway. “He swears she’s not here. Says he left her somewhere else and we’re not gonna find her.”

“What do you want to do?” Ice asks me.

“She’s in this house. Somewhere. She has to be. He didn’t have time to stash her somewhere else and make it all the way out here.” Actually, I have no idea if that’s true or not. “I’m not leaving until I’ve turned this place inside out. Why leave her somewhere else and hide here by himself?” I gesture toward the kitchen. “Who was he eating dinner with? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Good points.” Ice gestures to the hallway. “Let’s keep searching.”

Pants wanders over to the closet and peers inside. “What the fuck’s that?”

Ignoring him, I press my palms to the bed’s wooden frame and start shoving. At first, it won’t budge. Ice scrambles over to help me push. Then I realize, the top of the bed is moving. The underneath isn’t.

“Shit!” I drop my hands from the bed and fall to my knees, tugging on the two black O-rings on the side of the bottom part of the bed. It’s a separate piece that easily rolls out on two steel tracks.

…You remind me of a soft, tiny rabbit. Cautious, yet unaware of the dangers that surround vulnerable creatures in need of the safety of a cage.

The final letter he sent Shelby.

He wasn’t joking or waxing poetic about putting her in a cage.

Through the thick, black metal lattice I make out Shelby’s still form.

Sweet fucking relief flows through me. Followed by stone-cold fear.

“She’s here! I got her!”

I work the latches and throw the top open.

“Shelby!”

She’s on her back. Hands folded over her stomach. So still.

Devastation ravages my soul. My entire world turns black.

“Baby, no,” I keep repeating in a ragged whisper. Carefully, I slip my arms under her limp body and lift her out of the shallow box, cradling her body against my chest.

“Jesus Christ.” Jigsaw drops down next to me. “Shelby?” He brushes her hair out of her face.

She’s breathing.

Low and shallow. Her chest is barely rising and falling. But she’s breathing.

“Fuck,” Ice mutters. “We need to call an ambulance.” He turns, barking orders to Pants and T-Bone to load Martin into the van.

Ignoring everything else around us, I kiss Shelby’s forehead.

“Baby, wake up.” I stroke my hand over her cheek. A red gash on her forehead brings my rage to the surface.

Wetness trickles over my arm.

Another bump on the back of her head has blood coming from it. Angry red patches and bumps line her arms, chest, and cheeks.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” I roar over my shoulder, torn between ripping Suggs to pieces and not wanting to release Shelby.

Pants and T-Bone drag Martin into the bedroom. His pathetic gaze latches onto Shelby immediately.

Ice slaps Martin across the face to get his attention. “What did you give her?”

Martin’s eyes settle on something across the room for a brief second. “I won’t tell.” He flashes an evil grin at me. “You can’t take my little rabbit. I caught her fair and square.”

Ice stares at a black leather case on top of the nightstand. He picks it up, unzips it and studies the contents.

“What is it?” I ask.

“No label.” Ice zips it shut and holds onto it. “We’ll give it to the doctors.” He focuses on Pants again. “Take him out to the farm. Don’t fuckin’ finish him yet. He’s Rooster’s kill.”