Lake’s Legacy (Demon Dawgs MC: New Orleans #3)

Chapter Seventeen Lake

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: LAKE

The cabin is still habitable but showing apparent signs of neglect. Whoever built it fought a raging battle against the surrounding bayou, carving out the land to construct a home, but nature was taking it back. Kudzu and trumpet vine were sneaking toward the cabin like a predator stalking its prey. Alligator grass followed in its wake, ready to smother what remained of a vegetable garden. The numerous tracks from the road to the house proved we weren’t the first visitors. Several motorcycles had crossed through the overgrowth. Many of the tracks were old, but I spotted recent ones. This is the place. I’m sure of it.

Not taking any chances, I direct Toff to continue past and park out of sight.

“I’ll check it out. You wait here,” I tell Toff. He nods as I slide out and silently shut the door. Keeping to the trees, I go through the overgrown foliage until I can see the back of the cabin. Three motorcycles sit in the back nearest the door. Hoping three motorcycles mean only three men inside, I return to the SUV.

“I think this is the place. Three motorcycles. They're hiding out here if they’re the guys who took the girls. I’m going in,” I tell him, palming my gun. I pull up my pant leg to reveal a second gun. “You armed? If not…”

“I’m armed,” Toff says, opening the glove box and taking out a Glock. “I called Joseph. He’s sending some guys our way.”

“I’m not waiting. If they get spooked, they’ll book it. We can’t take a chance on them harming the women. So, let’s go. We can take them.”

Using the foliage as cover, we move until the cabin comes into view. The bikes are still there. The side facing us has a single window, but it’s high up on the wall, so it's likely a bathroom. We run forward and plaster our backs against the wall.

“You go through the back, and I’ll come in through the front.” Toff nods, moving into position, while I slide against the wall toward the front door. Reaching the corner, I turn to watch Toff’s progress. He snaps his head around the corner before snapping it back. But instead of giving me a nod, I get a frantic wave. I’m uncertain about what he’s trying to tell me, but the echoes of revving engines clue me in. Fuck!

Three motorcycles fly around the corner, speeding past Toff. The one in the lead spots him, but he is too late to take a shot. However, he sees me and shoots. He misses, but having to drop to the ground costs me my chance. I return fire, but they’re far enough away that I doubt I hit anything. However, I did see one wobble before righting himself. So, who knows? Maybe I winged one. The road they’re on will take them to Highway 90. Taking out my phone, I call Hex.

“Did you find them?”

“Not yet. We found where they took the girls, though. Toff and I are about to go inside. The fuckers just left on bikes; the three of them are headed toward 90. You might pass them. I might have winged one.”

“We’ll be on the lookout for them.”

I tell him about the gas station and convenience store where Olivia and I stopped. If I hit one, they may stop there to patch up the wound before continuing if their goal is New Orleans. “Did Pirate fill you in on their club logo?”

“White supremacists,” Hez spits. “Fucking hate those neo-Nazi assholes. It sounds like the same guys at Francois’ restaurant. What the fuck is the connection between the restaurant and your people?”

“No fucking clue,” I say, ending the call as Toff joins me.

“Did they have the girls?”

I shake my head. “No. Each biker was solo. You go through the back as planned. I’ll go through the front. The place may not be empty, so keep your head down.”

Entering through the front, I find myself in a small hallway. There’s an open door to my left and another to my right. Standing still, I let my senses explore the space. I can hear Toff moving at the back but no other sounds. A quick look to the right reveals what could either be a bedroom or a dining room. Considering there is a mattress on the floor next to a table, I concede it could be both. There is a second door at the back of the room. Before heading for it, I clear the room on the left. It’s empty except for two mattresses and trash. Broken glass in the corner tells me the assholes squatting here would toss their empty beer bottles against the wall. Pigs.

There is a door off this room, too, but a glance reveals it’s a bathroom. It was just as disgusting as I expected. The room smells as if no one bothered to hit the toilet.

I move back into the other room and go through the door into the kitchen, where I find Toff.

“Anything?” I ask.

“Just a fuck ton of garbage. Although, I found this.” He hands me a pamphlet filled with racist garbage and touting the need to keep American bloodlines pure. There are ample images of swastikas alongside the confederate flag. Several paragraphs on how the filth from other nations has tainted American soil. On the back is a picture of a bald eagle in attack mode. Clasped in its talons are the confederate flag and, in the other, the flag of Nazi Germany. Under the image is the phrase, ‘Keepers of the Third Reich, ’ with an address in Nevada. I fold the brochure and stick it in my kutte.

“They aren’t here,” Toff says, slamming his fist into the wall.

The cabin has only a handful of rooms. We’ve explored each one. If the girls aren’t here, then where the fuck could they be? “Let’s look again. We must have missed something. Is there a cellar or an attic?”

“There should be a cellar,” Toff says. We find it behind the refrigerator. The assholes likely moved the appliance to the block off the entrance. Maybe they’re hoping we’d leave so they can return and grab the girls. Feeling like we’re sitting ducks, I urge Toff to hurry.

“I can’t budge the door,” Toff grunts.

“Let me try,” I offer as we switch places. Heaving myself against the door, I can only shift it two inches. It’s enough for Toff to shine the flashlight from his phone.

“Do you see anything?” I ask him.

“It’s the cellar. I can’t tell what’s blocking the door.”

“Olivia! Annette!” I call out. “Are you down there?”

We get silence in return.

“Let’s try opening the door again,” I suggest. We get in position and shove. The door moves another two inches—just enough for Toff to push his head through.

“Fucking logs. Someone has stacked logs against the door. But I can see an opening on the far wall. We might get in through there. Let’s go.”

We hustle outside and search the back of the house until we find an opening. I drop to the ground and peer inside the dark hole. Logs litter the cellar floor, and I can see a pile of logs at the top of the stairs. Grinning at their cleverness, I back out. However, my grin slips when I spot the small puddle of blood.

“I found their tracks,” Toff calls out. “They’re headed into the bayou.”

“We need to go after them. One of them is bleeding.”

“We should be able to track them, then,” Toff says, looking at me. I know what he’s thinking. If we can track them, so can the predators. The girls may not be running from their kidnappers now, but they aren’t safe. Not yet.

“We need flashlights.”

“I have a couple in the SUV. I’ll be right back.” Toff returns a few minutes later with a pair of Maglites. He hands me one as he switches on the other. We’re able to track them easily. We have grown up learning to track animals from an early age. Tracking requires patience, something I’ve never had difficulty summoning until now. I barely stop running through the overgrowth and calling out for Olivia. Knowing she’s out there and possibly hurt guts me.

We hear the occasional splash, reminding us that we aren’t alone out here—that the girls aren’t the only ones the predators are stalking. However, in our case, we’re armed. The girls aren’t.

“Don’t worry, Annette knows this area. She’s leading Olivia to safety through the narrowest part of the bayou. There is a road on the other side.”

His confidence builds up my hope. But that shatters with their screams.