Strider’s Misstep (Mayhem Makers: Wretched Soulz MC)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

STRIDER

W e’ve commandeered the assistance of a support club the Soulz have in Dallas and have taken over their clubhouse for the day to act as our headquarters. The weekend warrior fuckers couldn’t do enough for us, and seemed overwhelmed to have our one-percenter presence in their home. Not only have they allowed us to house our meetings in their church, but have also instructed their bar to provide us with beers on tap.

Their prez, Rufus, VP, Samba, and SAA, Arch were around to personally welcome us, but they made themselves scarce when we indicated their presence wasn’t needed.

Out of respect for the Arizona prez who’d ridden a fair distance to be here, I position a second seat beside mine at the head of the table. Chaz has brought his VP, Bull, sergeant-at-arms, Iron, Weasel, his road captain, and Claws, his enforcer with him. I’ve got Shotgun, Tequila, Buzz, Madman, Shout and Tex here. Drumming my fingers against the table, I impatiently wait for Data and Legend, my IT expert, and Chaz’s to join us.

Chaz grins at me, his bald head shining in the harsh overhead lights. “Club prez here seems a pussy.”

I shrug. “They’re an okay support club. Keep themselves to themselves, mind their own business, follow the rules, and give assistance where needed. What more could I ask?”

He rolls his eyes. “Ever met Drummer of the Satan’s Devils?”

I smirk. “Heard of them. Now they’re made of different stuff. The real shit.”

He nods slowly. “Men you’d want on your side, not against you.”

I raise my chin to acknowledge his point. This club is welcoming, but if hell broke out, we couldn’t depend on them to stand beside us.

Being the dominant club, the Wretched Soulz vet all MCs setting up on our territory. This one’s harmless enough, pay their dues on time, and give us respect. But he’s got a point. I’ve only met the man at some of the ride-outs our joint clubs join, but my impression of Drummer is sound. He’s one motherfucker I’d like on my side in a time like this.

Chaz casts his eyes to the door, seemingly as anxious as I am to get an update. He confirms it when he states, “My woman’s in that fuckin’ signing.”

Bull snorts. “She can look after herself.”

Chaz sends him a glare. “More worried about the cleanup she’ll leave for us if any trouble starts.”

“Cleans up after herself.” Claws chuckles, completely unconcerned.

I’ve met Helo at the Arizona clubhouse, and hell, I’ve got to admire Chaz for taking her on. She’s something else. I’m pleased as fuck to know she’s currently sitting beside my woman. With StoryTeller and the Night Stalker, Jasmine’s got more than enough protection. Or that’s what I use to console myself.

At last, the door opens. Legend’s first to enter, Data not far behind. Both geeks take the two empty chairs, and I’m not sure I like the grins they give each other.

With no gavel, I slam my fist on the table. “Update,” I demand.

Data sits back in his chair and links his hands behind his head. He glances around lazily, then announces, “Ain’t got anything to worry about, Prez. Barclay Aster is not going to put in an appearance. He’s,” he makes air quotes with his fingers, “otherwise engaged.”

Legend butts in, “Yeah, as we speak, he’s up in front of a judge discussing his unpaid taxes.”

What? “You’ve confirmed he’s there?” I snap, sitting forward.

Data nods then follows up his gesture with, “Yeah. He sure is.”

Mex chuckles loudly. “He going down?”

“Fuck no,” Legend answers, lines on his forehead. “Judge is a golfing partner of his lawyer. Case is a formality and sure to be dismissed. But all that matters is that he can’t be in two places at once, so Strider,” he nods to me, and I raise my chin back, “your woman’s safe.”

It should be good news. I should be delighted. But the hairs rise on the back of my neck, and something in my gut tells me things aren’t right.

Madman sighs and leans back in his seat. “I was enjoying the hospitality here, but I suppose we’re riding back to Austin and that our friends from AZ have had a wasted journey.”

Chaz turns a presidential glare toward him that would match one of my own. “No one’s going anywhere until our women are back safe and sound.” He bangs his hand down. “Not leaving without my Queenie.”

Shotgun turns to face me. “And you’re going to want to talk to Jasmine. Persuade her to come home.” He, too, frowns Madman’s way. “So we’re here until the end of the day. We’ll pick them up at the end of the signing.”

Madman doesn’t look contrite. He rolls his eyes, then asks, “Well, can we get more of the free beers in here then?”

As long as they stay relatively sober, I don’t mind. I beckon to Mex to go make arrangements. Rufus, it seems, can’t do enough for us, and within moments, not only have we each got a fresh round, but plates of delicacies appear before us. Apparently, Arch’s old lady’s a quite renowned baker, a talent we benefit from.

With no immediate enemy and nothing to plan, our two charters start chatting among ourselves.

“Sorry about Anna.” Chaz leans toward me. “You were a fuckin’ saint looking after her all this time.” I narrow my eyes at him. He’s one of the few people who know what happened that far back in time. But there’s no shutting him up. “Wasn’t your fault, Strider.” It doesn’t matter who tells me, but no one will ever know the truth of the matter. He reads that in my eyes. “You couldn’t have done more for her.”

I tried. Even a God I don’t believe in must know I tried.

“You deserve something good in your life,” he continues. “I like Jasmine for you.”

Fuck, so do I. Haven’t I done my penance?

I angle my body toward him and say confidentially, “I just hope she’ll give me a chance.”

He looks at me intently. “Tell her the truth, Brother. The whole truth.”

Maybe he’s right. I take a moment to pick up one of the delicious doughnuts and take a bite. My phone rings. Swallowing my mouthful down, I answer.

“ST.”

“Chaz there?”

“Yeah.”

“Put me on speaker.”

I do. His tone makes me almost choke on the morsel that feels like it’s got stuck in my throat.

StoryTeller wastes no time. “Jasmine went to the restroom and Helo went with her. They were gone too long, so I went to look for them. There was an ‘out of order’ sign outside. Realising they might have gone some way to find a different one, I wasn’t too worried.”

“No fuckin’ time for one of your stories now, ST,” Chaz growls. “Get to the point.”

“Then a resort employee comes rushing up, swearing about clowns putting out signs. The rest room was fine. I went in. There was no one inside.”

“They might have been fooled and gone to another bathroom.” I’m clutching at straws.

StoryTeller’s growl comes clearly across the line. “I’d bank everything I own on this being a setup. Don’t think we should waste time.”

Chaz, like me, is clearly worried but exploring all avenues. “Any sign of a struggle?”

Why hadn’t I thought to ask that? Jasmine wouldn’t go quietly, and as for Helo, well, single-handed she could take any number of men down.

But we’re disavowed of that immediately as StoryTeller replies drily, “Discarded hypodermics in the trash.”

“We’re on it!” Legend calls out from the opposite end of the table, pointing between Data and himself. Their laptops are open in front of them and Data’s fingers are moving fast. “We’re trying to get into the CCTV from the resort.”

I want to tell them to move faster, but from the expressions on their faces, I bite my tongue. Frustration is written all over them.

“What do you want me to do?” StoryTeller asks. Fuck knows. Apart from finding my girl. “There’s security here?—”

“Whoever’s taken them won’t be hanging around,” Chaz barks. “Good money on that they’ve already left the resort. Best to get no one else involved. There’s nothing they can do that Soulz can’t.”

“Okay,” StoryTeller drawls as if he’s thinking. “The event’s not far from over, so Sheri and I can pack up her stuff. Make some excuse she’s not feeling well.”

I wonder whether that’s the best option. My gut screams I want everyone looking out for her. But logically, I know she will be nowhere in the building and already off the resort grounds. The only good thing is if they just wanted to kill her, they’d have done so in the restroom and then got out.

She’s still alive. That’s the only thing I can hang onto.

Chaz grunts out approval for StoryTeller’s plan, then reaches over and ends the call. He’s just opening his mouth when Legend yells, “Fuck yeah!” and fist-pumps his hand.

Data gives the explanation. “We couldn’t get in, but we messaged Mayhem. He’s in and is sharing the footage now.”

Brothers start getting to their feet, but Buzz shouts out, “Everyone, sit the fuck down.” He raises his chin toward Chaz and me, showing that he knows our women are missing and that we want to see the footage without being crowded out.

Rising, I go one way around the table while my Arizonan counterpart goes the other. In similar poses with folded arms, we watch the footage from various angles, covering all the exits.

My fingernails curl into my palms as time seems to fly by with nothing to see. Not that we’re really certain what we’re looking for. Surely, they won’t be so obvious as to carry two unconscious women outside.

“There!” Data points at the screen. He runs it back, then forward again in slow motion.

I see it now. A hotel laundry basket appears at an exit. As it comes more fully into view, there’s only one man dressed as a janitor nonchalantly wheeling it out, and while there’s no sound, I’d swear he was whistling to himself.

Legend taps away, and on his screen he’s following the cameras. When the man on Data’s screen disappears out of range, Legend already has him appearing on the other. Data’s about to switch the views, but Chaz stops him.

As I focus on where the laundry basket is heading, Chaz continues to stare at the empty exit.

“Yeah!” he exclaims. “Get as good images as you can.”

My attention caught, I glance over. There are three other men who do not look like they’d be attending a book signing, and they’re keeping their distance but definitely following the cart.

The janitor reaches a white van. This was obviously planned as he pulls out a ramp. When the others catch up with him, they help him push the cart up and inside the van.

“Get the fuckin’ license plate,” I growl, unable to stay quiet, though I know my brothers will already be on top of anything I could think of.

Data reads a message that flicks up on his screen. “Mayhem’s tracking them through traffic cameras.”

“Why not get StoryTeller to follow them?” Madman calls out.

Legend points to the timestamp on the screen. “We’re not watching this in real-time. They were already close to the van when he first called us. They’re long gone now.”

It’s something I’d forgotten myself, but I quickly catch up. “Where are they now?”

“Heading north,” Legend informs me.

“Brothers!” My loud shout has everyone’s attention. “Get ready to ride.”