“Officer,” Gideon said, his voice a bit breathless, his hands on the redhead’s hips, moving her faster. “You have information for me?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
“I traced the van licence plate to a business in Denver, Colorado,” she said briskly, ignoring the large, ugly tattoo rippling on the woman’s slim back as she gyrated on Gideon. “It’s a garage.”
“And?”
“And apparently the business is owned by a motorcycle club called The Road Devils.”
“A motorcycle club? How did our little Iris end up getting driven away from us by a member of a group of men like that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone from her life before?”
“I don’t recall her having any connection to Colorado.” Gideon grunted, lifted the woman almost out of the water with a violent thrust; she stifled a gasp of pain. “Or to a biker clu
