Reid gave a derisive snort and stared at the taillights of the black SUV they were gaining on. Jace cut into the left lane and glanced over as they passed the vehicle. “Huh. Looks like we aren’t the only ones skipping the Bacchanal tonight.”
“What do you mean?” Reid turned to look over his shoulder, but the Escalade was quickly becoming a black dot in the distance, the large vehicle no match for the high-powered sports car.
Jace shrugged. “That was Davis Ackerman. He’s a member at the club.”
Reid grimaced. “Seriously? Women actually sleep with that dirtbag?”
“Some,” Jace said, his tone wary. “But Grant has had to work hard to find him matches. Davis’s proclivities are pretty fucked up from what I’ve heard.”
Reid smirked. “Let me guess, he’s into extreme humiliation? He always excelled at doing that at work.”
“More than that,” Jace said as he passed another vehicle. “He wants the pain sluts—girls who claim they don’t have limits. A few weeks ago, Grant had to call in a medic because Davis had bitten a girl’s neck so hard, it had gushed blood. He’s been warned twice about biting.”
“Jesus.”
Author: Roni Loren“Yeah, the guy’s in his own zip code. I figure it’s only a matter of time before he gets kicked out. He ordered a whole shitload of stuff from me a few weeks ago under a fake name, so I assume he’s setting up his own private playground.”
“Huh. Glad to know he’s running part of our city government.”
Jace became quiet again, apparently lost in his own thoughts, and Reid tapped his fingers on the armrest as he stared out the window into the night. Jace would slow when they passed gas stations and rest stops, but after another thirty minutes, they still hadn’t spotted a cab.
Reid shifted restlessly in his seat, something tugging at his brain. He’d gotten a weird vibe on the phone with Brynn. More than just her anger, something else. But he hadn’t been able to pinpoint what had bothered him. He played the conversation over again in his head. What had she said? I don’t have ruby slippers. Strange statement.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headrest, going over the words again and again, turning and rearranging them. Then, like numbers in a combination lock, they finally clicked into place—one word standing out among the others. All the breath left his lungs. “Fuck!”
Jace shot him a wary look. “What’s wrong?”
He pressed the heels of his hands to his brows, his head instantly starting to pound. “She used her old safe word and I didn’t catch it.”
“What?”
“On the phone. She used the word, trying to tell me something.” His frustration over not being able to find her now turned to cold fear. He looked at Jace. “What if she’s in trouble?”
He gave Reid a sidelong glance. “I think you’re getting paranoid and reading too much into things. She’s just pissed at you, man.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She used the word specifically. She emphasized it. I was just too shocked over her leaving to catch it. And why would she leave so suddenly—give up on finding her sister so easily?”
Jace’s face reflected Reid’s worry. “But she was at The Ranch—it’s not like the dude who’s after her sister could just pop in. How could she get into any trouble?”
“God, I don’t know. Maybe someone called her, lured her out. Maybe this drug dealer guy has some contact inside The Ranch.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “She could be fucking anywhere. All I know is that she was in a car.”
“What do you want me to do? Turn around or keep going?”
Reid stared straight ahead, wracking his brain. Had she said anything else in the phone call that contained a clue? Had anyone at The Ranch seemed like they were paying particular attention to Brynn? A whisper of something danced at the edge of his awareness.
He thought back over the previous night, about each moment he’d spent with Brynn—making love to her, touching her, kissing every inch of bare skin. The conversation they’d had in the tub. Thought about how he’d bathed her, soaped her back, ran his fingers along her spine and over the faint circular birthmark that graced the line of her shoulder blade.
An icy stillness moved over him as he pictured that last moment, the mark on her skin. It hadn’t quite been a circle, more like two crescents not fully joined together. And had that been there when they’d dated before? No, not that he remembered.
When he’d touched it during the bath, Brynn had tensed ever so slightly—like she’d momentarily held her breath. He’d thought maybe she was reacting because she was self-conscious about the birthmark, but…
A nauseating realization gripped his gut.
No.
Not a birthmark.
A bite mark.