Page 63 of Retribution
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Cobra
Cobra pushed openthe motel room door and rushed in, tripping over his feet in his haste. His eyes darted around the room and landed on the unmade bed, and his gaze jumped to the bathroom door, but there wasn’t any light under it. In several long strides, he was at the door, lightly knocking on it as he opened it. Nothing. Dakota wasn’t in the room. Cobra dug out his cell phone and pressed the button to call the burner cell.
It kept ringing.
“Fuck.” He stared at the screen until the call automatically disconnected.
Cobra tried again. Same result.
An icy feeling swept through all the small hairs on the back of his neck. He tried to shake the shroud of dread pushing down on him. A knot of muscles at the side of his jaw pulsed, and he tried calling her one more time. He put the phone on the table as his paranoia began kicking him in the ass. Dakota was in trouble. This wasn’t about her being pissed at him or giving him some kind of drama. No, she wasn’t answering her phone because shecouldn’t.Cobra hadn’t heard from her since he’d left for work that morning. He wracked his brain trying to remember when he first tried to get a hold of her. It’d been around one in the afternoon. He’d taken off from work early to head over to Missoula to iron out the plans for torching Big Pat’s warehouse.
She said she was gonna wash clothes.He marched over to the closet and noticed that some of his apparel was gone then he rushed over to the dresser and opened the drawers. A lot of them were empty, and he knew it sure as fuck didn’t take hours to wash a few loads of clothes. Whatever had happened to her, she hadn’t made it back from the laundry room.
Slamming the door behind him, Cobra hustled over to the laundry room. He pulled open the door and looked inside. Empty. His heart sank even though he didn’t quite know what he was expecting to find. A part of him had hoped that Dakota had fallen and was just unable to get up, but the eerie silence in the room spooked the fuck out of him. He walked over to the washing machines and lifted the lids. The first one was empty but the second one still had clothes immersed in water. Cobra pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and his blood turned cold. The apprehension he’d been keeping at bay crashed through, leaving no room for suspicions anymore. Dakota had been kidnapped.
His head pounded like someone had just clobbered his skull with a tire iron. Cobra clenched his fists as rage burned through him like acid. “Fuck! Where are you, sweetheart?” Anguish tugged at his heart and pulled at his soul. How could he have been so reckless? He should’ve had a prospect watching her at all times. “Fuck!” He threw the clothes back into the machine then slammed down the lid.
After a few minutes, Cobra buried his emotions deep beneath the layers of detachment he’d built over the past twenty years. Cold, hard distance was needed to focus and find Dakota. Level-headedness was an asset, whereas feelings were lethal.
Scanning the room, his gaze landed on the corner of a card under one of the machines. Cobra bent down and picked up the card, staring at the familiar logo for Satin Dolls. He turned the card over.Anytime, Jake. Ivory 40-28-36.
Cobra bent and squeezed the card until it crumpled in his hand, then shoved it into his pocket. His hands curled into fists at his side as he stalked out of the room and up the stairs. The yellow neon Vacancy sign in the lobby window blinked sporadically. Jake sat behind the counter with his elbow on top of it, his head resting down into his hand when Cobra entered. The manager’s head snapped up, and fear flashed across his face for a millisecond then he smiled a yellowed-toothy grin. The corner of his right eye was blood-red.
“What can I do for you?” His voice trembled slightly.
Without wasting any time, Cobra rushed toward the counter. Jake slid off the stool and tried to make a run for it, but the biker grabbed him by the neck. The manager gripped the outlaw’s arm and tried to push it off him, but Cobra’s grasp only tightened. He slammed Jake against the wall a few times, the shuddering sound resonated through the lobby.
“Where the fuck is she?” Cobra yelled as he gripped the man’s throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jake said, his eyes wild and pleading.
“Wrong fuckin’ answer!” Cobra lashed out and landed a hard punch under the side of the manager’s jaw. “Try again!”
“I don’t know where she is. I swear.” Clear fluid ran out of Jake’s nose.
The next punch landed on the manager’s ear. The third one right in the stomach. Jake sucked in air as he gasped and bowled over. Cobra yanked him upright by his hair then slammed him once again against the wall. He slipped his free hand into his cut and took out his fighting knife.
“I’m gonna ask you one more time then I’m gonna skin you alive before I cut your fuckin’ throat.” Cobra pushed the tip of the blade against Jake’s cheek, pressing the skin inward until the flesh broke and blood oozed out. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Okay … okay,” Jake panted. “Put the knife down and I’ll tell you.”
Cobra pushed the blade in further. “You’re not in any position to negotiate shit.”
Tension crackled in the air between the two men.
“Okay. Big Pat’s got her. I didn’t wanna be a part of this shit, but he made me. I swear. He threatened me.”
“I need a fuckin’ address, and my patience is done.” The knife went in deeper.
“5288 East Granite Street. It’s his place—the big Victorian on the corner.”
“When did he take her?”
“I dunno.”
“Wrong answer, asshole.” Cobra ran the knife across Jake’s cheek, leaving a thin red line and dark trickles of blood running down the side of his neck.
