Chapter Thirty-Eight
Theo
“Boss?”
I whip around. The last three hours have been an endless tunnel headed straight to Hades. The fall fills my ears with a roaring that gets louder every time I close my eyes. Everything and everyone I look at is blurred on the edges, like they’re on the other side of a camera that won’t focus.
Every member of the Saints has been looking for June or Lorry since I left Bethany’s office.
She hasn’t contacted me, and none of them have found anything useful.
Kip talked to Lorry’s partner and his best friend, neither of whom have heard from the detective all day.
Even Sadie has been helping. She talked to Evelyn, who’s checking everywhere June might go, and Rose, who roped her sister into the search.
Apparently, Rose’s sister is a whiz with computers, and she’s been attempting to hack into the police database for a hint at where Lorry might go.
Sadie called half an hour ago to inform me that she was on her way to the Iron Cage to help look and get answers.
I didn’t have the presence of mind to tell her no.
“What?” I bite.
Axel falters from his spot at my door, and hesitation flicks in his eyes. He swallows, throat working as he tries to repress the trepidation he feels at talking to me while I’m so volatile. “I heard from a buddy of mine down near Fairgrounds.”
He pauses, setting my teeth on edge. “Spit it out, Axel.”
“He said some cops have been asking about an alleged murder at the Cage. They seem to think it was a drug-related incident involving a young blonde woman.”
All the muscles in my body inflate to a breaking point, pushing against my bones.
“How the fuck do they know?”
One cop looking in our direction— June’s direction—is plenty. We don’t need the narcotics team snooping around, too.
“Someone must’ve talked. One of them, I’d guess.”
“Well, it wasn’t a Saint.”
“Of course not.”
“Did anyone mention her name?” Axel shakes his head. “Is it an active investigation?”
“It seems like they were asking preliminary questions. Trying to decide if there’s any merit to the rumor.
But if no one talks, they’ll stop looking.
Without a body or a witness willing to come forward, they don’t have a case.
They’re not going to waste time and resources on an unconfirmed murder of a drug-dealing gangster. ”
“Do you know which cop was asking around?”
“There were two. Detective McCoy.” Unsurprising. “And a Detective Cruz.”
“Cruz?” I ask. That’s not Lorry’s partner.
“Yeah.”
“Anything else?”
“That girl just arrived. Sadie something, I think.”
I toss my phone onto the desk, agitation rubbing against my veins like sandpaper. “Shit. Okay. Send her back.” I circle my desk and drop into the chair.
“Yes, sir.” He rushes out, trying to conceal his hurried steps like he isn’t terrified to be alone in the room with me.
I know I’m spinning out, and if I don’t get a hold of myself, I could make this all so much worse.
But the panic is overriding every other emotion.
I can’t stop picturing June stuck somewhere with Lorry, unconscious, hurt, or tied up.
Lorry might be a cop, but he’s already shown he has no problem breaking the law.
He wants revenge for his cousin, and he probably knows I was never going to help him frame June.
He’s unpredictable. He might decide he has no choice but to kill June himself or torture her into confessing.
The fact that I have no idea what he’s capable of or what his end goal is sets me more on edge.
The door swings open, and Sadie storms inside. She stops at the edge of my desk, her body angled toward me like I’m a magnet attracting her anger.
“Tell me what the fuck is going on with my best friend.”
I rub the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, wishing I could get away with slapping duct tape over her mouth, then locking her in my office so I don’t have to deal with her until I have June back.
How am I supposed to explain what’s going on when she has no idea about June’s homicidal hobbies?
“I don’t know yet.” I let out a heavy breath and push the chair back, muscles tense and prepared for a fight that’s nowhere near occurring.
“Bullshit. You called me terrified because she disappeared. You have a bar full of bikers freaking out, looking all over town for her. And you refuse to talk to the cops because some detective with a chick’s name is involved?”
“Look, I’ll explain more later,” I lie.
“You’ll explain now.”
“Careful giving me orders, Miss Oliver.” Any of my guys, Luna included, would hesitate after hearing that tone, the way anger fills every corner of each word.
Sadie, however, doesn’t balk. “If you think for a second that I’m going let you walk out of this room without telling me what’s going on, then you’re delusional.”
I stand, forcing her to tilt her head back to hold eye contact. “ Let me?”
“June isn’t the only one who can fight. She’s also not the only one who carries weapons with her.” She pulls up her shirt, showing a large knife clipped to her pants.
I raise my brows, momentarily surprised.
Sadie drops her shirt. “Don’t underestimate my ability to hear the truth and not turn my back on my best friend. I am just as comfortable pushing lines of legality as anyone else in this god-forsaken, beer-soaked den of inequities.”
“Den of inequities?” If I wasn’t so preoccupied with the safety of the woman I love, then I might’ve laughed. It’s so obvious why she’s June’s best friend.
Her chest rises with a heavy breath, and she flattens her hands on the desk. “All I care about is finding my best friend, alive and unhurt. If this has anything to do with what you guys do around here, I don’t care.”
Why didn’t I think of that? I mentally chide myself for being so short-sighted while putting on a look of reluctant shame.
“Fine. Yes. June is in danger because of me, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” The indignation isn’t hard to fake.
“She got mixed up with me and a dirty cop who helps us run drugs, and now she’s paying the price for my mistakes. ”
Sadie’s brows furrow. She leans forward, eyes peeling back every layer of my mask. Then she shakes her head. “No. She wouldn’t do that.”
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do.” I immediately regret the words when she flinches. But the hurt doesn’t last long on her face.
“I know that her shithole father was murdered when she was fifteen, and the cops never found out who did it. I know that not twenty-four hours after I told her my boyfriend tried to rape me, he happened to overdose at a club June visited without telling me. I know she’s wickedly good at kickboxing and shooting and self-defense.
I know that I have a locked room at my nursery with some more…
questionable plants and flowers that will sometimes be slightly emptier after she visits.
I know that every few months, she gets on edge to the point that if anyone looks at her the wrong way, they’re in danger of getting their head ripped off.
“I know my best friend. More than she thinks I do. And I’ve loved her a lot longer than you. I will continue to love her long after you’re a memory we laugh about. So, tell me what the fuck is going on, or I swear to God, I will stab you in the throat and claim self-defense.”
My lips part, but no words form. My brain slows and stutters, like a car running out of gas. Sadie doesn’t lift her eyes from mine, and the set of her mouth tells me she’s not making an empty threat.
She knows.
Maybe not all of it, but enough to suspect.
And she still loves June.
Of course, she does. How could she not?
But if I’m wrong and she doesn’t know and I say something stupid… “I don’t know what—”
“She has a cemetery sleeve tattoo,” she interrupts. “No one likes their last name that much. You call her ‘little reaper,’ and Luna calls her ‘killer.’ Even the story of how you two met is dodgy at best. I can put two and two together.”
“You’ve never told June your suspicions?” I ask, the volume of my voice several decibels lower.
The question seems to pierce the inflated anger in Sadie’s body, because her shoulders fall, and she drops into the chair. “I didn’t want to force her out of the murder closet.”
I snort.
“Most people wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that their best friend is a killer just because she’s a decent fighter with a clever tattoo and a few assholes met their predictable ends.”
“Most people are idiots and cowards who don’t pay attention and think morality is an inflexible bone we’re all born with.”
“And you don’t?”
“I think that if June wasn’t exactly who she is, I would’ve been raped and so would a dozen girls after me.”
My lips roll together. I take in every bit of honesty and love in her eyes. “I’m not telling you her story.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to give me enough information to help. I’m going crazy here. This detective guy. Sherry—”
“Lorry.”
“Whatever.” She waves her hand in the air. “Did he arrest her?”
“He can’t. There’s no evidence.”
“So, he kidnapped her?”
My fists curl together, and I nod.
She sits back, sucking in a breath. “Why?”
“His cousin disappeared three years ago. He was… not a great guy.”
“She killed a detective’s cousin? How could she be so stupid?”
“In her defense, he wasn’t a detective yet. And I don’t think he was super close with his cousin.”
“Still,” she grumbles. “So, this is his fucked up version of revenge? How does he even know it was June?”
“That’s not important,” I say, not wanting to go over all that bullshit yet again.
“What is important is that Lorry was tired of trying to find justice within the system. I think he realized it was never going to happen. Then there were rumors of someone being killed here at the Iron Cage, and Lorry thinks it was June.”
“Was it?”
I shrug. “If said alleged murder did happen here, then the killer was probably just trying to save my life.”
“So, it's your fault?” she says with a grin. I know it’s meant to be a joke, but the words feel like a fist to my gut anyway.
Fuck. It is my fault. Everything. If anything happens to her because of me…
Red. My life would be saturated in it. In anger and blood and fire.
“I’m going to find her.”
She nods. “I’m helping.”
“I can’t let you get involved. If you got hurt, June would succeed in killing me this time.”
“This time?”
“Why don’t you find Luna? She could use your help looking for anywhere Lorry may have taken her.”
“I’m assuming you’ve checked his house?”
I nod.
“Any friends with vacation homes?”
I shake my head. “I’ve looked into all his friends, family, any acquaintances I can think of. No one has property in Tucson that is currently unoccupied.”
“Could he have taken her out of Tucson?”
“No. He wouldn’t risk going too far.”
“What about places he’s come across on the job? Like drug hideouts?”
“My guys are checking everything we can think of, but most of those places are currently crime scenes.”
“Maybe he drove her out of the city and is holding her in his car somewhere.”
“His car is at his house.”
She groans and leans back in the chair. I’m just about to again suggest she go find Luna when Sadie sits up, eyes wide and shining with an idea. I can’t help the hope cracking in my chest.
“Police auctions.”
“What?”
“Police auctions! They’re held twice a month to auction off retired police equipment or anything that can’t be returned to the original owner or has no owner to return to.
Abandoned cars, stolen goods, boats, bikes, building equipment, you name it.
Half the shit is crap, but it’s all cheap.
They even sell foreclosed houses or raided crack houses. ”
“And?”
“ And this detective would know what’s going to be auctioned off next. Which means he knows which houses are currently empty. The houses won’t be on real estate sites and are no longer crime scenes.”
Shit, she’s right. When I considered places connected to Lorry’s job, I was only thinking about places his investigations may have taken him. I sent Benny and Raphael to check it all out, but they didn’t find anything.
“How would we know what’ll be auctioned next?”
“There’ll be a list in their database.”
“Rose’s sister.”
She nods. “I’ll call her now.” Then she’s up and out of her chair, phone already in her hand as she taps away, deepening that crack of hope with each touch of her finger.
This is it.
It has to be.
I’m going to find you, little reaper.