Chapter 16
Jackie
I knew whatever was in that box was bad, but knowing it was someone, or part of them, terrified me. If I hadn’t been wondering around the reservations, documenting the conditions, I wouldn’t have ever discovered that house, taken the picture, and brought about all this pain and heartache.
“This is all my fault, isn’t it?” I asked him, and he shook his head as he took my hands into his again.
“The person at fault is Blur and whoever he recruited to do his dirty work,” Jagger explained, but I still didn’t believe him.
“Two people that we know of are dead. How can you say it’s not my fault?”
“Jackie, darlin’, you were doing something good for your people and you stumbled upon something that needed to be stopped. You had no way of knowing all this would happen, and I need you to stop blaming yourself. I know no one else blames you, and I’m going to tell you something Nitro used to say. Give yourself grace.”
I closed my eyes and tried to push the fear into the recesses of my mind. I refused to be a victim, so when I opened my eyes and looked at Jagger, I tried to channel the strength and courage of my ancestors, knowing they had faced worse than this.
“Can we start at the beginning?” I asked, and he gave me a nod.
Standing up, Jagger grabbed a black leather bag from a chair and came back to the bed. Unzipping the bag, he pulled out his laptop and opened it. After entering a password, he turned back to me while it was starting.
“You took the picture of the house when, four years ago?” he asked.
“Four years and . . .” I held up a finger and stood to retrieve my phone. Opening it up, I checked my calendar and said, “Four years, eight months, and a few days.”
“Okay. So, you were in the back country, taking photos, when you stumbled onto the house. Without knowing it, I believe you uncovered a house where trafficking victims were kept. Maybe long term, maybe for a few days, but whatever the case, after you gave your father the photo, he called Nitro.”
“And then Nitro began looking into the situation, and during his digging, he found their operation and Blur got wind of it. That’s when he . . . attacked Nitro,” I surmised, continuing the timeline.
“For the next few years, we looked for whoever was responsible for Nitro’s death, and I think it was after the connection to the reservation was discovered that Blur got scared and started making impulsive decisions,” Jagger pondered.
“Like kidnapping Cheyenne and that poor girl,” I tacked on, and we both sat silent for a moment. “I don’t want to ask about club business, but I have a few questions.” He rolled his hand, so I asked, “How did Blur discover that Nitro was looking into this? I mean, Phantom didn’t know, he didn’t ask for your help, and he kept Trent in the dark.”
Picking up this laptop, he remarked, “That’s a good question.” He opened a Word document and began to type the question out. “What else is uncertain?”
“Well,” I began and stood. I thought better when I moved around, so I began to pace in front of the bed as I spoke out loud. “Where were the women being sent to? Who’s helping him? Where is Blur now? Why is he moving back this way when the Bastards know he’s got a target on his back?”
“All good questions,” Jagger remarked as he typed away on his computer. “Can I ask something?” I nodded. “Did you recognize the house in the picture that was sent to you?”
I shook my head instinctively but stopped to think about that question. I’d spent the last few years crisscrossing South Dakota and parts of North Dakota, capturing images of the lives of Native Americans on the reservations. I’d seen hundreds—hell, probably thousands—of houses, trailers, and shacks being used for homes.
“Do you still have it?” I asked, and he nodded before standing and retrieving it from the inside pocket of his cut.
He handed it to me and took a seat back on the bed as he watched me inspect the image. I was able to glean some information from it, but not enough to tell where it was.
“This was taken in North Dakota.” He stood and looked as I pointed to the background. “The two states look the same, but North Dakota has more trees. And this is a wildflower native to the north. You may see it close to the border between the states, but I’ve never seen this flower on the south reservations, only the few I’ve visited in the north. And unless something has changed, the permit sticker on this trailer is from North Dakota.”
“Why would someone send you a picture of some random trailers in North Dakota?” I shrugged, and he slipped the picture back into his cut.
“Can we talk about Blur?” I inquired.
Jagger’s face twisted, and I could tell he didn’t want to discuss him, but if we were looking for him and the Bastards still had him under protection, then maybe we needed to dig deeper and figure out why Jamison was protecting him. I’d never met the Royal Bastards National President, but I’d heard he’s a narcistic fucker who thought he was better than everyone else, pushing edicts onto chapters that he didn’t follow himself.
“I’ll tell you what I know, but I don’t think talking about him is going to get us anywhere,” Jagger remarked.
He moved his cut from the back of his chair to a hook on the front door, then he lifted the clothes and placed them back onto the bed. We both took our seats at the table, and I tried to think of where to start.
“The Bastards are still protecting him?” Jagger nodded. “And no one can figure out why?”
“Normally, I won’t walk about club business, but we’re Sinners Revenge now, so speaking of the Royal Bastards isn’t violating my oath.” He took my hands and began to explain. “Jamison, the National President, when presented with the information that Blur was responsible for Nitro’s death, told us to back off and leave him alone. That’s what facilitated the change in colors. We couldn’t figure out why someone like Jamison would protect a random brother from a chapter he never even bothered to step foot into. So, we asked Roughstock’s cousin, Jackal, to speak with his friends and see if he could help us locate Blur.”
“The Callahans?” I asked, and he nodded.
“The brothers were able to uncover a few details about Blur. He was adopted from Mississippi when he was three, and his adoptive parents moved to Louisiana when he was around eight, I think. He left the south and came up this way when he was in his twenties. That was a few years before the purge of the Bastards, when Jamison was run out of the country and quite a few brothers were killed.”
“And Jamison won’t tell Roughstock why he’s protecting Blur?”
“He won’t tell anyone anything. He plays his cards close to his chest, uses people for his own personal gain, then finds new lackies to kiss his ass and make him feel important. Honestly, I met him one time, wasn’t impressed with him, and didn’t care if I ever saw him again.” He paused before speaking again. “The Callahans sent someone to New Orleans to meet with Blur’s adoptive brother, the only family he had left, and his brother was as shocked as you would imagine at hearing what his brother was into.”
“And he didn’t know anything about Jamison?” I asked.
“What are you thinking?” Jagger asked me, but I hesitated before answering.
“If it’s not his adoptive family that connects him to Jamison, could it possibly be his birth family? I mean, what if Blur discovered his real family and uncovered a connection that we’re not seeing?”
He lifted one cheek in a half-smile and leaned over to kiss me softly. “I never gave one thought to his real family.”
He sat back down as I reasoned, “It’s the only piece of the puzzle that doesn’t have any information. I may be far off base, but I would suggest investigating his birth family to see who they are.”
“I’ll send the Callahans a message right now,” Jagger remarked as he pulled his phone out and began typing away.
My mind started spinning, trying to place the house from the picture. On impulse, I stood and grabbed my backpack before returning to my seat. Jagger was watching me as I pulled out my computer and started it.
“What’s going on, darlin’?”
“I feel like I’ve seen that house in the picture before, or maybe it’s something else. I want to go through my pictures to see if it rings a bell,” I replied as I opened the file containing the hundreds of images I’d taken over the last few years.
“Do you want something to drink? I can move us to the bed so we’re more comfortable.” The wind was howling outside as he added, “And warmer.”
“That would be great,” I remarked and stood to help him.
My clothes got shoved back into a bag and tossed onto the floor before we began to layer the extra blankets on the bed. The pillows were small, and I was grateful for the extras as I propped them against the headboard. Jagger made us each a cup of coffee and placed mine on the small end table next to the bed while I got my laptop and took his to the table.
The covers were pulled back, and I sat down, placing the laptop onto a pillow as Jagger sat next to me. He was still in his jeans, and I gave him a confused look as I asked, “Aren’t you going to get comfortable?”
He smiled and answered, “I don’t have anything to sleep in, and honestly, I’m going commando.”
I chuckled and stood from the bed to retrieve the bag of clothes. Inside, I had an oversized pair of sweatpants I took on trips in case it got too cold at night. They were big enough to be baggy over a pair of blue jeans, so I tossed them and my biggest shirt to him.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he said as he stood and walked into the bathroom to change.
While he was in the bathroom, I opened the oldest file I had, which was almost six years old. The images were from around my community, and it was what first drew my attention to the inequality the existed. Huge houses next to rundown trailers. Junk cars covered with years of dust sit next door to a sports car. I wasn’t about splitting wealth, but if you had an abundance, you should help those with much less.
Jagger returned and plopped down beside me, kissing my cheek. He turned his attention to the monitor, and I began to explain what each image was. I had forgotten about some of these, and as we went through the years of pictures, each moving us closer to the present, I kept trying to remember the house but was drawing a blank.
I didn’t know how long we’d been looking at the pictures when the power flickered off once before coming back on. Glancing at Jagger, I could see he was as tired as I was, so I made a mental note about where to start again tomorrow and closed the computer.
“I guess we should get some sleep so we can get on the road in the morning,” I remarked.
“I guess so,” he agreed.
Placing my computer on the end table, I watched as he slid down under the covers and turned his lamp off, casting half the room into darkness. I got in beside him, suddenly nervous, but tried to remain aloof as I turned my lamp off. A sliver of light pushing through the closed curtains from a streetlamp outside was the only light in the room.
Rolling to my side, I saw Jagger facing me with a smile on his face. He was so handsome, and I wondered if I forgave him too quickly. Then I remembered he came rushing to save the day, and that said more about him than an outburst when he was stressed and panicked. It didn’t mean he had a free pass, but I would offer him the grace he said I needed to give myself.
“Are you going to be able to sleep?” I asked, and he lifted his hand to brush some hair from my cheek.
“As long as you’re beside me, I’ll sleep like a baby,” he returned.
He rolled to his back and lifted his arm, encouraging me to snuggle up to him. The heat was on, but it was still cold, so as I moved closer, feeling his body heat, I sighed contently and snuggled against his chest. Wrapping his arm around me, he kissed the top of my head.
“Good night, my beautiful warrior.”
“Good night,” I said, and for the first time in my life, I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
I hoped we could figure out who sent the box before they came after me. I might’ve been small, but I wouldn’t go quietly. Anyone who thought they could take me or hurt me would find out why my people were still around, even after our extinction was so close to becoming a reality.
We refused to stop fighting and would use whatever weapon was in our arsenal to protect ourselves and the ones we loved . . . and that included Jagger.