Ryan Croft's POV

Two days, two days I've been traveling. The gun lay, gleaming and unused since that once moment in my back seat. My hands clenched the wheel. I was somewhere in the south of Colorado. This was my safe haven. It was where they wouldn't find me.

The white truck I owned puttered to a soft halt as I jumped out of the door, slamming it shut. The lot was empty in this bar just outside of town. The building hugged the outskirts of Colorado Springs. The tattoo parlor next to it had no customers, and the lot for the buildings was abandoned except for a green truck. I smiled at the familiarity of the vehicle.

I took the gun in my hands. The weight of guilt was heavy, but as I stored it away safely out of view, I felt it rise and float away. I shot my own little girl. She was mine, not his. Not theirs. They had no right to take my family away from me.

Besides, it was HIM. He'd seen me that one day, so many years ago.

The red headed boy and the tall man. They were the ones that corrupted my family. My anger for the two boiled over. The bullet was meant for them, but my eldest daughter took it. They entranced her to take it. The tall one must've wooed her so that she would die for him.

And it was HIM.

"Stupid." I kicked my truck door closed and stomped off to the door of the bar. My rage filled every vein in my body so I could barely see anything except for the body of my daughter, and the men behind her.

The bar was mostly empty. A few men sat at a back table. Nodding to them as a silent greeting, I walked over to my usual seat. The man behind the counter came over, handing me a glass and leaning towards me.

"Ryan. It's been a few days." He commented. With barely a bob of the head, I gulped the refreshing beer and set down the glass. It took every muscle I had to resist smashing the fragile material into the wood. I would enjoy seeing the shards fly.

"I've been driving for two." I muttered. After leaving that prison where the three jailers lived, I drove west to get out, and then south. It was just to kill time.

After I finished my beer, he handed me a second one. I felt the old man's eyes fall and rip open my mind, to read what was wrong. The old man had the talent like that. His grey hair was swept back and the tattoos that marred his arms were faded, but not gone. He wore a leather jacket, although he was indoors. He owned the truck outside.

"I need four guns at my side and two bikes for a fly by." I stared him dead in the eye. He knew what this meant.

"Ryan..."He started cautiously.

"Trevor, I know what I'm doing." I started. He would try to warn me, but I knew this would help me. Four guns and two bikes was our code word. A few years back, we came up with it after a man murdered the wife of my best friend, Hex.

The murderer went missing after a few days. No one questioned it.

"Back room's open. They'll be here by five tonight." Trevor motioned to the back door. I thanked him, throwing a few dollars in the tip jar before heading back.The back was always open for us in our gang. There were a few hammocks tied up, for when we needed to rest. I took one and let the rocking slow my brain down. The drink helped the process.

I woke up as Trevor pulled me out of the hammock. I stood up, a little woozy from the sleep, and then followed him out. The bar was cleared. It had closed early for our meeting. The table in the back corner under a mounted stuffed buck's head had five people sitting around it. Trevor moved to clean the bar.

I recognized them men, the old friends of mine. From the fogged glass, I could see two motorcycles and three trucks, all parked around mine. Around the table, the men barely passed me a glance from their drinks and hushed whispers.

Storm, Eagle, Stryke, Rift, and Zero all looked up warily as I pulled a chair up and sat down. A drink was already at my spot. An empty chair stood at the opposite side of the rectangular table. Night was already casting shadows along my companion's faces.

Storm was a ferocious fighter with a short temper. Eagle was the guy with all access to info. If you needed the details for anyone, he could find it faster that a blink of an eye. Stryke, well he was unique in that he was our weapons supplier. You needed a gun, he could get any type to you. Rift was our scout. The mind inside Rift's skull was faster than any of us, and could remember a face. He partnered with Zero. Both were the owners of the speedy motorcycles outside.

"Where's Hex?" I asked them. Zero, the thin boy no more than 28 stared back at me. He had a tattoo of a dragon surrounding his neck that wriggled as he turned to look at me.

Hex was the who'd lost his wife. That was when the group started. It was all for revenge.

"He's coming from the west, Ryder. He'll be here in a few minutes." Zero chided me.

No one knew each other by our real names anymore. It was just by our safe names. Sure, some people might think it was cool, but to us, it was a necessity. It was for our own protection.

"Where have you been, Ryder? We lost contact a few months back." Storm sipped his cup gingerly before turning to face me. I glanced down at the table. I'd been out doing some dirty work that needed finishing. Tracking people here and there for unnamed employers and getting drunk to wash away the memories was my job.

"Out for hire by unnamed." I responded casually. I few let out a gruff breath of approval. The door opened just wide enough to let a figure through. We all turned to look at my familiar friend. He walked towards us, confidence emanating from him.

"Hey, Hex." I used the toe of my boot to kick out the wooden chair. He smiled under a curtain of blonde hair. His silver eyes twinkled with a hint enthusiasm. It was good to see my old ally again.

"Storm, Eagle, Stryke, Rift, Zero, Ryder." He greeted each of us. The light jacket he wore covered up his broad shoulders and slim body. His eyes gave away the fact he hadn't slept well for the past few days.
Our group had finally been assembled.

"So, why'd you bring us here?" Storm jumped immediately to the point. I thought back to that one night, four years ago. It was our second year together as a team.

The murderer was out of the hands of police and Eagle had tracked him to a concert playing in Denver. The killer was young at about 20 years old. He would fit in perfectly for the crowd.

His target was there as well.

We found him out back, trying to lure the girl. When nobody was watching, we dragged him back behind a bus we thought was empty. He struggled and fought, but we forced him by a gate when he broke loose. The shiny blade of a knife swung at us as his clammy hands grasped it. The fear in his eyes was obvious. Stryke managed to knock it back, twist his arm, and kill the murderer.

As long as there was no witnesses and there was no more murder, he wouldn't be missed.

But there was a boy. Tall with gelled brown hair that had seen us as we disposed of the body. The boy with tattoos, so familiar at the recollection of my memory. He saw us as we ran off, he saw the blood on our hands.

He saw Stryke's knife swing down.

But he didn't call us out on it. One moment he was there, the next he had disappeared. After that, we were more cautious, and I never saw him again. Not until the other day, with my girl.

Leave no witnesses behind.

"I've called you here because I saw the man again, the one from the concert with sleeve tattoos. He was with my oldest daughter." I explained to the group. They all were silent at the news. I could almost see their thoughts racing in their heads.

As soon as his thoughts died down, Rift asked, "He was at your house? Did he recognize you?" The look on the man's face, it held familiarity, but I got out of there as quick as I could.

"He was at my house with another man. He looked as if I was familiar to him, but I don't think he put the pieces together totally." I replied.

"We shouldn't have much to worry about then." Zero threw out optimistically. Trevor cleared his throat from the bar.

"I would worry. The boy might remember, might call the police, and now you'll be busted. Take it from me, I would try to clear this case up." He called out to us warily. I could only nod my head.

"As long as he's alive and he's around her, he'll take away my daughter." I pounded my fist on the table. Hex put a rough hand on my shoulder.

"What do we need to do?" Hex asked. Out of anyone, he understood the most. After loosing his wife, he had a new perspective on life. He understood the fine line between revenge and vengeance.

"Anything to get him forget that night." I growled through gritted teeth. I couldn't track him down alone. I needed the team's help. He nearly spoiled the night we tracked down the killer.

This wasn't revenge, this was pure vengeance.

Notes

Hey guys!!! It's the first chapter of the sequel to Dear Austin....
Here's a new POV where we find out what's happened to Ryan Croft (aka Ryder) after he shot Rae! I hope you liked the first chapter!
More to come!
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