25. Judge
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
In Plato’s The Symposium, humans used to have two heads, four arms, and four legs. They were happy, whole, and, according to the gods, too powerful and ambitious. So Zeus stepped in and split all the humans in half, leaving them sad, lonely, and missing a piece of their souls.
Eventually, humans learned to live with the absence, but we’re all destined to spend the rest of our lives searching for our other half. It’d be sad if it was true because the world is a big place, and the chances of finding that other half would be minimal.
I stare at the ceiling, trying to get some sleep while Satyr digs through the list of names, but my mind won’t turn off. I’m a shell of a person, lonely and sad, desperately searching for the one who completes me. Even if Plato was full of shit, I still believe I’ve found my soul mate.
Damn it. Where is she? Is she safe? Is she in pain?
With an annoyed snarl, I get out of bed and push my feet back into my boots before sliding on my cut. Fuck this. I need to do something, to help in some way. Sitting around and twiddling my thumbs is driving me up the fucking wall. Even if riding around and looking for her is pointless, at least I’ll be busy.
Morning light hits my face when I step outside, the air already thick from what will surely be a scorcher. A distinct smell hits my nostrils, and I look over to see Riot on his porch, smoking. I didn’t see his face in the crowd when I explained what happened, so he must’ve ignored Lucky’s call. It doesn’t surprise me. He’s an anarchist at heart, and conformity isn’t his strong suit. Not that it is for any of us when it comes to the civilized world, but an MC is built on loyalty, and it’s hard to trust someone who’s never around and is so shut down.
“Hey,” I say, tucking my hands in my pockets.
“What’s going on over there?”
“It’s Myla. She’s missing.”
He flicks his cherry. “Shit.”
“Yeah. Satyr’s doing his computer magic, trying to find us a lead.”
He nods in approval, taking a deep drag before a thick plume of smoke surrounds him as he exhales and says, “Fuckin’ sucks she’s missing. I always did like that kid.”
“We’ll get her back.”
“Hope so. That bitch is crazy.” He grins. “And I like crazy.”
My hackles rise with his assessment of her. “She’s not crazy.”
“Sure. Okay.”
“She’s not.”
“It’s in her eyes.” He holds up his hands. “I’m not saying it’s bad. Just sayin’ she’s a little hellion. I think anyone who’s been through what she did will either shut down or get angry. The bitch chose angry.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Can’t argue with you there.”
“If the reason she’s gone is because someone has her, angry is a good thing. Angry gives you the will to survive.”
“Speaking from experience?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Name one of us who doesn’t have that experience.”
An image of Father Kerrington flashes through my mind. “You’re right about that too.”
Stamping out his cig in the ashtray, he stretches before taking the two steps off his porch. Without another word, he takes his leave down the path to the parking lot.
“Where are you off to?”
He turns and walks backward. “My last job. After this, the Costas are paid up and off our asses.”
I nearly forgot that the club was indebted to a crime family. When Rigger left his abusive dad’s home, his dad turned that abuse on Rigger’s stepsister and stepmom. He had no idea until his stepsister, Navy, showed up as an employee of the Honey Pot. Rigger shut that shit down quick, but when he learned about the physical and sexual abuse, he wanted to kill the asshole.
Unfortunately, his dad was owned by the same crime family we had a loan out from. So, in order to keep things copacetic, Riot took Rigger’s dad’s place as a problem solver—meaning he had to take out anyone who defaulted on their loans and refused to pay—and in turn, Rigger got to pay his dad the same courtesy he paid Navy all those years.
Riot didn’t seem to mind going to work for the Costas. If anything, he jumped at the chance. I get the feeling that his demons get the best of him, and he deals with it the only way he knows how—through violence and bloodshed. I’ve approached him about confessing to me on a few occasions, but he turned me down because he regrets nothing and wears his kills like a badge of honor.
Yeah, he’s fucked up.
Shaking my head, I proceed to the clubhouse, where I’m met with an air of anxious silence. It’s been hours since I told the club about Myla’s secret life. I inhale the smell of brewing coffee, as if just the scent will clear my mind. Moving behind the bar, I nearly run into Sugar.
“Hey, sweetie. How ya holdin’ up?” She rubs comforting circles on my back.
“I hate the wait. I just want to do something.”
She takes my hands. Even this early in the morning, she has on her trademark red lipstick and a full face of makeup. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it. “The only thing you can do right now is take care of yourself so you’re ready to go when it’s time. So go get yourself some coffee and breakfast.”
“I will. Thanks, Sugar.”
She winks. “Always. And when you get her back, you bring her here so I can make her some comfort food.”
“I’m sure she’d like that.” It’s a lie. She’d hate that. Coming here after who knows what has been done to her would mean she’d have an audience, and the last thing Myla ever wants is attention. She prefers to stay in the shadows. Sugar doesn’t need to know that, though. This woman is an angel, and there’s no one in this club who wouldn’t die for her.
Knowing Sugar’s right, I pour myself a cup of coffee and put some eggs on a plate. My stomach is in knots, but I’ll choke down some protein if it’ll keep my energy up. Satyr is right where I left him, sitting at the table, his eyes glued to the monitor and his fingers tapping on the keys, only now, there are three crunched up empty cans of energy drinks next to him.
Lucky and Tinleigh sit side by side at another table. They must’ve taken a break too, because they’re in fresh clothes, and Tinleigh’s hair is wet. She waves me over, so I take a seat across from them. Even though Tinleigh forgave me for keeping Myla’s secrets, things still feel tense between us. I fucking hate it.
“Anything?” I ask.
“No, but he’s crossed a few names off the list, so there’s been progress.” Tinleigh rests her chin on her folded arms, looking exhausted. Her eyes are red and swollen, and she’s sniffling. My heart is already on the verge of breaking, and seeing her so upset only makes it that much worse.
“I’ve got to run to her apartment after I eat. Can you call me if he finds anything?”
“Why do you have to go to her apartment?” Lucky asks, scooting his chair out before physically dragging Tinleigh over to his lap—not that she protests. Her arms loop around his neck, and she curls into him.
“I got her a kitten, and I need to make sure it has food and shit.”
Tinleigh perks up the smallest amount. “You got her a kitten?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Like I said, she’s been feeling lonely, and I thought maybe a pet would help.”
“Would you mind if I went to feed it? I think snuggling a baby like that might make me feel a little better.”
“Sure. All his stuff is on the table. He gets a quarter of a can of food. He’ll cry for more, but don’t give in, or he’ll be sick.”
“Okay.” She turns to Lucky. “Will you come with me?”
“Try and stop me.” Lucky stands with Tinleigh in his arms before lowering her to her feet.
“What’s his name?” she asks, and I smile, remembering how happy the little ball of fluff made Myla when she saw him. Fuck, was that just yesterday? It feels like weeks have passed since then.
“Ryder.”
“I love that.”
“We’ll be back in an hour. Call me if anything turns up.” Lucky raps his knuckles on Satyr’s table twice. He nods without looking up.
Minutes or hours pass as I stare at my eggs, rethinking every word she said when she told me she was going out for the night, searching for any clues, but there were none. She didn’t even outright say what she was doing; I just read between the lines. Even before that, she never clued me in on how she made her choice about who to go after. I knew what she was doing, but only in a general way, and now, I wish I had demanded more information for safety’s sake.
Golden, Dutch, and Mustang walk in, pulling me from my thoughts, and I push my plate away, unable to stomach another bite. My three brothers take a seat at my table, looking more rested than I do. I’m glad someone was able to get some sleep.
“Anything?” Dutch asks.
“Not yet.”
“Bite your tongue. I’ve finally narrowed it down to three men,” Satyr calls out.
I’m on my feet in seconds, rushing over to him, a renewed sense of hope washing over me. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I send a text to Cy and Rigger and tell them the news. As if they were standing by waiting, I receive two texts back in seconds, Rigger saying he’s on his way and Cy telling me not to do anything until he gets here.
“Whatcha got?” I ask, looking at the screen.
“I crossed off anyone who is out of town right now, which was easy. After that, I hacked into the location services of all their cellphones, and if they were in a public place, like work, they got crossed off. I crossed off the two Myla took care of and one who’s in the hospital for an unrelated surgery. Once I had that, I dug into the remaining men’s lives and thought these three might be her most likely targets. It’s not an exact science, so if we find nothing with these guys, we can expand.”
“Why were they denied entry to the ranch?”
“This guy is a cop and has numerous excessive force charges, yet he hasn’t even been put on suspension,” Satyr says.
“Fuckin’ pig,” I scoff. “What about the other two?”
“One is a high-up in a geothermal energy company and has his hands in a lot of different political pools, making sure the EPA stays off his ass. He also runs some kind of charity resource center for unhoused teens. A few months ago, a girl went to the authorities and made a report stating she was taken, abused, drugged, and pimped out to old men.” Satyr points to a picture of an unremarkable man. He looks like any other high and mighty man with too much money. “The girl retracted her statement just days later, and when I dug around to see where she is now, I found a one-way, first-class ticket to New York in her name, and her bank account was padded with twenty K.”
“He paid her off,” I say.
“Looks like.” His finger moves lower to another picture. “And then this dude sells porn starring his very underage stepdaughter.”
“When we find Myla, can we take over and kill all the motherfuckers on that list?” Dutch asks, cracking his knuckles.
“That would only lead to trouble, but we should report them,” Golden says, always playing by the rules.
“If by ‘report them’, you mean we should feed them their own dicks, then hell yeah. Let’s do that.” This time, it’s Satyr suggesting murder. He and Dutch are the club enforcers, whereas Golden is the treasurer. Enough said.
“What’s what?” Cy asks, charging into the clubhouse, bringing with him a burst of energy. Hot on his heels are Rigger and Lucky.
“Where’s Tinleigh?” I ask Lucky.
“Left her at Myla’s apartment. My mom’s on her way over to keep her company, and Tigger’ll keep watch until this is over.”
I nod in approval, happy Tinleigh’s found her other half. After spending her whole life sacrificing herself, it’s good to know she has Lucky to put her first for a change. The giant bastard is obsessed with her. As soon as I get Myla back, I’ll do the same. I might be fucked in the head and have no experience being a boyfriend, but I know how to make her happy. I hope that’s enough.
Satyr repeats the breakdown for the newcomers while I try to tap into Myla’s thought patterns so we can know which motherfucker we’re going after. The cop is out; I think Myla would prioritize kids first.
“Now we have to decide if we split up or if we pick one and hope we’re right.” Cy tugs on his pointed beard, glancing over at me. “Damn, I still got it. Look at that shiner.”
Touching my swollen cheek, I smirk. “Not time for the retirement home yet, old man.”
“Watch it,” he jokes, which is his way of letting me know I’ve been forgiven. “You got any thoughts on this?”
“I don’t think it’s the cop,” I say.
“I was thinkin’ the same. That leaves the teen abuse or child abuse, both sexual.” He stares at the screen, thinking. “Maybe we split into two groups. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best we got because both those assholes are pieces of shit, and it’s impossible to gauge which is the bigger piece of shit.”
“Hold up.” I point to the kiddie porn guy. “She might want to protect the babies before she goes after the teen prostitution guy.”
“You willing to bet Myla’s life on that?” Cy asks.
“I am.”
“Okay then.” He points at Lucky. “We got guns ready?”
“Yeah. I got everything cleaned and checked before I had Tobi load them all into the van.” Lucky’s brows furrow. “It’s not a good time to mention this, but we were short a couple handguns and knives.”
“What the fuck?” Cy curses. “You’re just bringing this shit up now?”
“Didn’t realize it until now. When all this is over, I’ll look into it more.” Lucky looks like a kicked puppy, and I decide to have mercy on him.
“Myla paid attention to the code when you were teaching her to shoot. She stole the guns and knives.” I pat his chest.
“Fuckin’ A, man. I’ve been stressing over that all day.”
“She’ll have to answer for that after we bring her home,” Cy says.
I’d feel bad for ratting her out, but I’m confident that she can take whatever verbal lashing either of them dole out to her. Plus, maybe it’ll be another reason for her to put this shit behind her and not continue her asinine plan. I can’t worry about that now, though. She needs to come home first.
Walking outside, my brothers all mount their bikes, and a cacophony of rumbling engines shakes the ground with their intensity. It’s a symphony of power, a declaration of brotherhood and unwavering loyalty. It’s an MC going to war.
“You coming?” Rigger shouts, noticing I’m not joining them on their bikes.
“I’ll go in the van with Tobi,” I return. “Not sure what shape Myla will be in, and I’ll want to be with her after.”
“Good call.” Rigger accelerates, following Cy out of the lot.
Walking over to the van, I knock on the window, and Tobi promptly rolls it down. “You comin’ with me?”
“I was going to, but I changed my mind. If Myla’s not in any shape to ride when we find her, I’ll just have you ride my bike back, and I’ll drive the van.”
The kid lights up at that. “Okay.”
“Go ahead and take off. I’ll catch up.”
Tobi’s expression and tone turn serious, which is almost comical, considering the kid can’t grow facial hair yet. “We’ll find her, Judge. I know it.”
I nod, trying not to crack a smile. “Thanks, brother. See you over there.”
Except I won’t see him over there because I’m not going where they are.