Brick (Brutal Chains MC #2)

Chapter 9

Nine

Luna

It seems like every time I get one step closer to finding my sister, I'm stopped for some asinine reason. To be fair, maybe what Brick was saying wasn't so very asinine. If this group of men was enough to give Brick and the rest of the Brutal Chains a reason to pause, maybe it's better for me not to go in guns blazing—metaphorically, of course.

Still, I hate having to sit here on my hands and just wait for something to happen. I'm tired of having to stay in Brick's room like some kind of captive. I pace back and forth in the large room, every once in a while picking up one of his items just to put it back down. It's not like I'm really paying attention to what I'm looking at. In fact, I could've picked up a genuine diamond, and it wouldn't have made much of a difference to me. I'm just trying to keep busy.

Finally, Brick walks back in, and I see the grim look on his face.

"Did something else happen?" I question right away. Maybe they figured something else out while I was in here? I don't know much about the people in this club, but it did seem like they were knowledgeable about a lot of things I had no idea about.

"No, we only know the same things that we told you." He looks me up and down, but something about the way he's staring at me has changed. Before, when he looked at me, it was almost as if he wanted to rip my clothes off right then and there, but now he's looking at me like I'm the enemy.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm just trying to figure some things out." He shrugs, but his body barely moves. I can see the tension from here.

"What are you trying to figure out, and what does it have to do with me?"

"Tell me something: how is it you know so much about your sister and her fight with addiction, but you don't know the people she bought her rocks from? You trying to tell me that in all the time you were so-called watching over her, you didn't know that she was a buyer from the Seven-Oh-Seven gang?"

"What the hell? How would I know that? I mean, it's not like I'm on a first-name basis with any of them." I bristle at the thought. Why now, all of a sudden, is he thinking I'd have anything to do with my sister going missing? And what would I get out of someone coming into my apartment and trying to steal from me?

"So you say, but I just find it strange that all this is happening, and instead of them focusing on your sister, they come for you? Do you think your sister would set you up?"

"No," I answer right away. There's no chance in hell that would ever happen. My sister would go to her grave before she turned on me, the same way I would for her.

"Then something just isn't adding up here. I'm going to figure this out, and I just pray that when I do, you don't come out a liar." He growls at me, and for the first time since I've met him, he scares me. There's no hiding the monster lurking just below the surface.

"Let me out of here." I take a step in his direction, but once again he stands in front of the door, so I can't leave.

"I already told you I can't do that."

I get right in his face. "How are you going to stop me? You going to beat me up? Maybe torture me like you did your stepfather?" I know I'm going too far even as the words come out of my mouth, but I can't stop it. This is my natural state. When someone corners me, I attack. "You going to handcuff me to the bed until I become whatever it is you want me to be? Maybe force me to say I'm lying so you can get over yourself?" I wait a few seconds, but he doesn't respond. "No? Well, if that's not what you're going to do, then I want out of here. I'm not going to stay another night with a man who can't see what's right in front of his eyes. If something happens to me on the outside, that's just my problem."

"Luna."

"Don't fucking Luna me," I yell and punch him as hard as I can in the arm. He doesn't even flinch. "Get the hell out of my way!" I continue yelling, and finally, he takes a step to the side.

Bursting out of his bedroom door, I see the man Brick called Hook sitting on one of the chairs. To my surprise, he's not there alone; there's a woman sitting on his lap. When he sees me making my way to the door, he starts to stand, but Brick comes out of his room.

"Let her go," he orders, and everyone goes back to what they were doing.

It's nice to see not everyone in the club is so distrusting. If Hook managed to get himself a woman able to deal with this lifestyle, they must have trusted her enough to let her in.

Must be nice to have people who believe in you. I don't know why I ever thought Brick would be different. Serves me right for trying to be vulnerable around anyone.

I rush out the large front doors of the clubhouse and speed walk down the walkway that leads to the strip mall. Once I get there, I'm at a loss as to what to do next. Any other time I've been here, it's because Brick has brought me here. I don't have a car and there's no one on the road.

It's going to be a long walk home, but I'd rather walk until my feet bleed than go back in there with Brick.

He's not the man I thought he was.

My feet are in fact nearly bleeding by the time I make it back to my house. My body is weary, but my mind is going a million miles a minute. I don't know who these gang members are, but I do realize some of what Brick said has to be true. There's no reason for them to come after me. I've got nothing to do with them.

Slowly, I lift the keys in my hand as I stand in front of my apartment door. The last time I was here, I was attacked, and this time there's no one around to help me if I need it.

I hate to admit it, even to myself, but I'm scared. So scared of being alone right now.

I push the key into the lock and turn the knob. My house is still a mess from the altercation between Brick and the man, but thankfully the lights are on and I can see around the apartment. With very hesitant steps, I make my way to the back rooms just to verify that there is indeed no one in here.

Brick has me so sure that I'm going to be attacked without his protection, but here I am in my apartment and nothing bad has happened so far.

Letting out a deep breath, I walk back out to the living room and get started cleaning up. I'm used to cleaning up when the house is in disarray. Many a time I've come home to see Wendy tossing things around because she was sure she had another hit somewhere. Sometimes it feels like all I am to her is a caregiver and not her sister.

I miss the relationship she and I used to have. The laughter and the talks that we shared. Before all the drugs came in and ruined her life, my sister was my best friend. She was everything I wished I could be: open, free, loving. I didn't know it back then, but even though she was fighting her own demons, she was what I pictured someone who had their life together would look like.

Now I'm forced to face the fact that I may never get my sister back to her former glory. All the hopes of us living a long life together—side by side, fighting anything that came our way—our dreams of backpacking through Europe. Even the unborn nieces and nephews she would give me just float away like sand through my fingers. She had so much potential. She's such a great girl, and part of me feels like it's my fault that I didn't fight harder for her to see that.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I frantically dig into my jeans to get it out. My heart drops when I see it's a text from Brick. Here I thought it might be a text from Wendy telling me where I'll be able to pick her up.

How has this become my life? Constant worry. Anxiety. All the worry.

I know while my sister isn't able to take care of herself, I'm going to be stuck in this role. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to take it.

I toss the phone down without looking at the message. I can't deal with Brick right now. Not while I'm dealing with missing Wendy.

When I feel the hot tears spilling down my cheeks, the rage inside builds back up.

In a fit, I bend down and pick up the closest thing to me: a framed photo of me and Wendy. Back to when times were better. When we both seemed happy. "You stupid bitch!" I scream and throw the picture against the wall. The tears ramp up, and the worse I feel, the more items I pick up to break. What's the use? This whole scenario is hopeless.

I scream and break things, trying to get this gnawing anger out of my gut. Deep down, I know Wendy has reasons to be how she is, but I can't help but wish she was a little stronger. She and I both grew up in that messed-up house, but I didn't run to drugs.

I ran to isolation and loneliness. It's not the best coping mechanism either.

After running out of things to break in my living room, like a bull, I barrel into my bedroom.

Right away, I stop before I can pick anything up.

My bedroom is in disarray as well.

But why?

I know Brick wasn't in here long enough while he was grabbing me a shirt for him to make this mess, and I know I didn't leave it like this, so that could only mean that the man who was here wasn't just here for me but was searching for something.

Calming down a bit, I go across the hall to my sister's room, and it's the same scene. Drawers are pulled open, her clothes are scattered all over the floor, along with the few boxes and knick-knacks she had dropped.

Is this why I haven't heard from her? Does she owe someone something? Whatever that man was looking for was enough to get caught breaking and entering.

Just like that, a calmness comes over me. Maybe if I can find whatever it is that they were looking for, I can end this, and Wendy can come home. I just have to find it.

Getting right to work, I start looking in the places I know Wendy likes to hide things. It's not many, and from the looks of it, the man that was here yesterday already ransacked most of the places.

Except one.

On her bedside table, there's a framed picture of our family before it all went bad. I know from experience that the frame, though it looks ornate, is actually hollow. She told me that's where she likes to hide her smack from time to time.

I walk over to it and gently run my fingers along the glass, touching the picture before I turn it over and pop out the back of the frame. Inside are two bags of drugs and something else I don't recognize. It's not until I pull it out that I realize it's a thumb drive.

My sister hasn't worked in ages; there's no need for her to have a thumb drive.

My fingers tremble as I grab hold of the small device and go straight back to my room to find out if my laptop is still in working order. Thankfully, it is.

It takes me a couple of seconds to get it booted up, but the minute I do, I shove the thumb drive in and open it up.

"No, no, no! Wendy, what have you done?" I whisper to myself as I grip the sides of the laptop and stare at the video unfolding in front of me.

There's no doubt about it.

This is what that bastard was here for.

Shutting my laptop, I do the only thing I know to do in this situation: call for help.

The phone rings twice before he picks up.

"Brick, I need you..."

"I'm on my way."