Chapter 9
KILLA
The ride over to the clubhouse is solemn; the angst in the air curdles my blood. My brothers keep throwing concerned glances my way, like I’m going to run my hog off the damn road or something.
When we enter the compound, a prospect we call Shorty is on the gate, waiting with it wide open, and I clench my teeth at the idiot.
Why the fuck would you stand with the gate open like that?
Especially after someone just tried to run Stella over.
We’re on lockdown and he has the gate open?
I shake my head; the dumbass has gotta go.
He salutes us as we ride past, and I want to throat-punch the little prick.
Where the hell did we pick him up from again?
He’s putting our club at risk.
Noah at risk.
My jaw tics and my temple throbs with the weight of responsibility and uncertainty on my shoulders. I want answers, and I want them now.
Then I’m going to force Cass to move in here with me, where I know her and Noah are safe.
I want Gavin whatever-the-fuck-his-surname-is gone. I don’t want him sniffing around my girl again. Ever. I’ll adopt Noah, and we’ll become a family.
A family I’ll protect and never let a damn thing happen to it.
Riding into my spot outside the clubhouse, a loud squeal of delight can be heard above the tailpipes of the hogs, and I’m really not in the mood for dealing with their dramatic bullshit right now.
“They’re back!” one of them screeches as their heels clatter down the wooden steps of the clubhouse.
Jesus fucking Christ. I pinch the bridge of my nose and glare at Savage to deal with the club whores.
Cindy comes rushing over on her high heels, her tits pushed up high, her lips painted bright red, and she shimmies the waistband of her mini skirt up, probably giving those behind her a view of her ass cheeks … and flaps, for that matter.
“Killa, you’re back!” she screeches, and I wince. It’s not a question, just a dumb statement from an even dumber chick.
“Not interested,” I state, dismounting my hog, and spit on the ground beside her feet.
She ignores the action and strokes my bicep as she follows me toward the clubhouse, ignoring my words.
“But you haven’t been around for a while.
I missed you,” she whines, gliding her fingernails over my arm.
I swear I’m seconds from exploding. The only touch I want to feel is my woman’s, but she’s in a hospital bed and I’m here having to deal with this over-inflated bitch.
“Cindy, cut the shit and leave him the fuck alone before we let Winnie have at you!” Slash snipes out as he brushes past her, knocking her hand off my bicep, and I’m grateful for it. The last thing I want is her attention, not when I feel like I’m walking into my own damn funeral.
When we step inside the clubhouse, it feels like all eyes are on me, and my skin itches with the need to shake off the sensation of being watched.
I’m eager for answers as we enter church, and I’ve never witnessed my brothers take their seats so quickly, clearly as desperate as I am.
Savage takes his chair and slams the gavel down. “What you got? Who the fuck tried to kill my sister?”
Hunter rubs his jaw. “It was someone with blacked-out windows. I’ve tracked the vehicle, but the moment it hits Trent Valley, it’s like it disappears.”
“So, someone is fuckin’ with us and we’ve no clue who?” Slash sneers.
“You think it’s the Vipers?” Venom asks. “The gang they used before? We should pay them a visit, demand some answers.”
Hunter releases a long exhale. “Honestly, I’m unsure. We just need to stay vigilant for now.”
Savage looks seconds away from exploding, and he glances in my direction, then the fury slips from his face and contorts into something akin to sympathy.
What the hell is happening?
“Tell ’em.” He motions toward Hunter, and my throat becomes dry at the pitiful look on Hunter’s face. As he finally lifts his head from the laptop in front of him, anguish flashes in his eyes.
Holy shit, this is not good.
They found Alisha.
She’s dead.
Jesus, how much more can I be dealt today? I push back my chair, sending it toppling to the ground.
She’s dead.
I can see it in the harrowing gleam in his eyes, the sorrow oozes from him, and the way he fidgets in his chair as if he doesn’t want to have to explain shit to me.
My sister is gone.
My legs might buckle, my stomach lurches, so Morgue grabs my chair, righting it, then with a grunt, pushes down on my shoulder, forcing my ass back into it. Who knew he could be so compassionate.
This is the moment, the one I’ve been waiting for.
“She dead?” I say sharply with as much strength as I can muster.
Hunter’s eyes widen and his jaw parts. “W-What?” He shakes his head. “No. No, this isn’t about Alisha.” He glances around the table.
The tension in my shoulders subsides, and I let out a deep breath and a low, nervous chuckle. I brush my hand through my hair, but when I peer into his eyes and see the same concern lurking as before, something hits me square in the chest so hard I suck in a sharp breath.
“Cass?”
Hunter rolls his lip into his mouth, and his Adam’s apple slides down his throat. I ball my fists, willing him to hurry the fuck along and tell me what he knows, but then I shove them beneath the table, annoyed with myself for getting wound up by a brother who wants to help me.
“She need dealin’ with?” Slash asks from behind me, and I jolt.
Has she lied to me? Was the sincerity that oozed from her broken stare a hoax?
No.
I refuse to believe it. My girl was telling me the truth.
Every word of it.
I know it in my bones. I can see it in her eyes, and more importantly, I feel it in my very core.
“No, she doesn’t,” Hunter snaps, and that grabs my attention. He’s normally the playful one in our club. The charmer, so to speak. With his blond locks and sparkling eyes, he could be a damn model if he wanted to be. Instead, he’s one of us.
He tilts his head toward the chair, silently telling Slash to take a seat, then when everyone’s seated, he opens his mouth.
He leans across the table from me with his hands steepled in front of him. “You ain’t gonna like what I’m about to tell you.” His gaze bores into mine, and the severity in it causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. A strange sensation I’ve only ever had once before.
“Just fuckin’ say it,” I bite out, unable to take the uncomfortable wait any longer.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Savage give him a chin lift.
“Raider used his contact to help us gather this information,” Savage says, and I nod, grateful Raider could reach out to his family when needed despite the fact he barely has anything to do with them, apart from family weddings or funerals.
I give him a chin lift in gratitude.
Hunter finally exhales, then spins the laptop around, taking my breath away.
On the screen is the image of a young blonde-haired little girl. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, a bright smile on her face as if she’s posing for a school photo, and her emerald eyes sparkle with pride.
Hunter clears his throat. “Hayley Jones, aged eleven years.”
I scan the kid; she sure as shit doesn’t look eleven. I’d have guessed nine at most. But it’s been a long time since I was a kid, so who the fuck knows. “She went missing nine years ago,” he adds, then stares at me like I should understand something.
I sit forward, pulling the laptop toward me.
It’s a missing kid poster, and my stomach twists.
Nobody comes back from shit like this, everyone knows that.
Then I scrutinize the image. The familiar bright-green eyes with gold flecks, a small button nose and bow lips, the freckles beneath her eyes, and that smile has cute little dimples that only occasionally make an appearance.
“Oh, fuck.” The air is stolen from my lungs, sucked out of me like a vacuum.
I blanch, fighting the urge to vomit. Every cell inside me feels poisoned.
“What the fuck is this?” Slash grits out from beside me.
“Cassidy,” Morgue states.
The man barely ever says a damn word, and as he stares into the eyes of my girl, I want nothing more than to grab the laptop, snap it shut, and draw it to my chest to protect it.
To protect her.
Truth be told, I’m already too late.