Page 39 of Saving Helena
As we approached, the air seemed to thicken, the silence broken only by the low rumble of our engines. The ground beneath our tires was cracked and uneven, evidence of years of neglect and disuse.
The warehouse itself was a sprawling structure, its massive form looming in the morning light of dusk. It was clear that it had been abandoned for years; the once-sturdy doors hung precariously on their hinges, creaking ominously in the gentle breeze. Some half-hearted chain link fence was fixed around the structure, but even that was sagging in places, and the locks on the gates were broken and open. The walls of the building were marred with graffiti.
The club tried to buy the warehouse not long ago but struck out when we approached the owner. They had said they weren’t interested in selling the property, although we weren’t told why. The owner wasn’t local, and our search hadn’t turned up any connections that made sense to me. Ultimately, we gave up on it and moved on to other projects.
The warehouse exuded a certain kind of grim beauty. I’ve always liked it.
Today, the dread gnawing at the pit of my stomach as we approached overshadowed any sense of appreciation of the building.
Determinedly, I dismounted my bike and strode forward, urgency propelling me. The Brotherhood followed suit, a silent but steadfast presence at my side.
"Spread out, find her," I commanded, my voice cutting through the heavy silence. In the background, I could hear Dimitri giving orders in Russian, but I could only be grateful for the extra manpower. My tone left no room for hesitation as the men fanned out to search every corner of the interior. It wasn’t a small building. At one time, it was a cannery of some kind, with hidden corridors and old machinery. It was rusty and full of dirty corners, dilapidated from disuse.
Every footstep reverberated through the empty corridors, the sound amplified by the eerie silence surrounding us. With each passing moment, the tension grew thicker, weighing heavily on my shoulders like a suffocating cloak. I could feel the fear clawing at the edges of my heart. I had to find her, find my sunshine.
Helena's safety was paramount, and I'll be damned if I let anything stand in the way of bringing her back unharmed. As we scoured the warehouse, every shadow became a potential threat, every creak of the floorboards a sinister omen. But we pressed on, driven by the unshakeable determination to find her, no matter the cost.
Suddenly, a shout rang out from the darkness ahead, followed by scuffling and a muffled cry. Without hesitation, I broke into a sprint, my heart pounding in my chest as I followed the sound of the commotion.
“Prez! Over here!”
As I skidded around the corner, I was only met with a corner of trash, a filthy mattress, and two people who had seen better times. They weren’t who we were looking for. Fuck. I hoped to see that shimmer of golden hair and blue eyes for this nightmare to end.
“Tony, keep looking. She’s not here.” I wanted to splatter something, smash something into a bajillion pieces.
“But, prez, just wait. Listen. They saw something,” Tony implored.
They didn’t look like they wanted him to continue, but he held his hands up placatingly. If anything, they looked like they wanted to be anywhere but in this room.
“Tell him what you told me,” he encouraged, softening his voice. I tried to take a few even breaths but immediately regretted it. The air in the small space was stale and foul.
“I’d appreciate anything you can tell me. I’m looking for my woman. She’s been taken.” My woman. The words rang true. She was mine, and I didn’t protect her like I should have. It was a gut punch. She left the club close to midnight with nobody to protect her. Jesus.
I turned to face the two men who stood before me, their faces etched with fear and uncertainty. Despite their reluctance, they seemed eager to help, to provide any information they could to aid in our search.
“Tell him what you told me,” Tony encouraged, his voice soft and soothing in the oppressive silence of the warehouse.
The two men exchanged hesitant glances before one spoke up, his voice trembling with nervousness. "We... we saw them. There were some men in suits,” he began, his words coming out in a rushed tumble. They were dragging someone into a car just before the sun came up. We didn’t get a good look, but it looked like a woman—blonde. They met another man here when they put the woman in the other car. A man with blonde hair, short. He had tattoos.”
My heart sank at his words, a heavy weight settling in the pit of my stomach. It confirmed my worst fears, a grim reminder of the danger Helena now faced. Then Makarovich’s men must have her—traffickers. How would we find her? I could only hope that the Volkov pakhan had a lead on where Makarovich might have holed up.
"What kind of car?" I pressed, urgency lacing my voice as I leaned in closer, desperate for any information that could lead us to her. “Anything else?”
The men exchanged uncertain glances once more before one of them spoke up. "It was a fancy one. One of those BMWs. Blue. The man had short blonde hair.” He trailed off, unable to look at me. “Sorry, man, there wasn’t anything we could do.”
I nodded, my jaw clenched tight with determination. Pulling a couple of bills out of my pocket, I turned them over to the men.
“Thanks for the information, really,” I said sincerely. “If you want a hot meal, you can tell Daisy at the Duck that Maddox sent you.”
“Thanks, man. Hope she’s alright.” They tucked the bills away, and I remembered how it felt to be hungry, your stomach turning on itself. I needed to help more. The club did community stuff, but we could do more. I should try to contact the warehouse owner again, too. It wasn’t right for the building to sit and rot like this.
Turning to Tony, I told him to circle up the brothers and meet me up front. “Let's move.”
“Where to prez?” Dimitri asked as I swung my leg over my bike. I hesitated.
“We have Church at the club.” My voice cuts through the heavy silence of the warehouse. I ignore the veiled looks the brothers give me, focusing instead on Dimitri’s nod of approval.
“Sounds good, let’s ride.”