At the clubhouse, he paused outside the door. It was quiet. Too quiet.
Not even insects hummed, as if creatures of the night sensed something dreadful.
He unlocked the clubhouse door and went inside, motioning for Kara to remain outside.
Someone had turned off the television. The kids finally fell asleep. Jace removed his Glock from the back holster and chambered a round.
Ominous stillness. No snoring, no sounds of anyone turning over in their sleep, or someone padding to the bathroom and flushing the toilet. Even during the night, people made noise.
Gun cupped in his hand, he advanced into the clubhouse. Now, the tingling down his spine increased, as he smelled something in the air other than the sour stench of beer, stale cigarette smoke and fried food.
The coppery slickness of blood.
A single light that illuminated the bar remained on, cutting through the darkness. Jace rounded the corner, his gun held out. Nothing. No one. His gaze roamed the room. All seemed normal.
He glanced at the next room, where the young bikers had been playing video games. The three kids, including Dylan.
They’d been celebrating a daring heist of six figures in jewels. And Dylan had seen Marcus. Dylan knew the man’s identity.
As he entered the room, he knew instantly there was nothing to celebrate.
Two of the bikers sat on the sofa, heads flung back. He instantly saw the wounds on their bodies. Stabbed to death. Quiet and lethal.
Dylan was missing. Where the hell was the kid?
His heart thudded loudly. Careful not to leave evidence, he searched the room for another body. Nothing. Jace backed out of the room and headed for the safe tucked behind the bar. No need to remember the combination. The metal door was opened, showing the safe’s interior—a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills, drugs and some passports.
The stolen jewels were missing.
Squatting down, he studied the safe. The door had a combination lock only Mike and Lance knew, but anyone who watched Mike could have memorized it.
Jace uttered a low curse and stood. It had to be one of the guys who’d participated in tonight’s theft. Or Dylan.
He rounded the bar as Kara entered the clubhouse and started for the game room.
“Dylan? I’m here, baby.”
Cursing, Jace sprinted after her.
Too late. She saw.
Immobilized, she stood at the room’s doorway, her body wrought with tense fear. A whimper escaped her. Suddenly, she seemed to be boneless, staggering back as her knees buckled.
Jace caught her in his arms. “Easy,” he soothed.
“Dylan...oh, dear heavens, Jace. Where’s Dylan? He couldn’t have done this!”
He turned her around, put a finger to his mouth. Wide-eyed and trembling, she swallowed hard and gave a brief nod of understanding.
Wasting no time, he hustled her outside.
He wiped his prints off every surface he’d touched. So careful he’d been not to leave evidence of his presence for the local cops to find that wiping off the prints didn’t take long. Upon returning upstairs, he did the same to the room, the doorknobs and the common bathroom.
By the time they left, hurrying out of the parking lot, dawn had broken on the horizon. Fiery orange and deep violet streaked the sky, a wash of nature’s watercolor art. Warm air tinged with a hint of thick humidity greeted them. It was still quiet, but sounds of the world waking up filtered through; traffic on the nearby roadway, dogs barking in the distance and birds singing a sweet melody.
It was a sharp contrast to the brutal ugliness they’d left inside the clubhouse. Jase’s heart pounded as he thought of how he’d been upstairs with Kara. They could have been dead as well if they had stayed.
Or more than likely, whoever did this knew he was upstairs and wanted him to take the fall for the murders.
She shook her head. “Jace, we have to call the police! Those poor kids... What is going on here? Who would kill them?”
He whirled, gripped her shoulders. “No cops. We can’t risk it.”
As she stared at him with huge eyes, he softened his tone. “Please, Kara. I know you haven’t given me reason to lately, but please, trust me.”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “Do I have a choice? Where’s Dylan? We have to find him.”
“That’s one reason I don’t want the local authorities alerted yet.”
Kara stopped in her tracks. “You mean...he could have done this?”
“Anything is possible.”
“No! Not Dylan. He’s a good kid who got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Jace, he’s not a cold-blooded killer!”
I want to believe you. But it isn’t looking good for him, Kara.
He herded her toward the street where he’d parked his motorcycle and she had parked her car. “Let’s go.”
