Chapter 24 #2
Shaking my head I craned my neck to see if Fiona was there yet. Looking at my watch, it was nearing 9:45 p.m. Charlie promised she would have Fee there by 9:30 p.m. at the latest, and I was growing antsy.
Subconsciously, I stood up to check the door, and a flash of color caught my attention—and most of the room’s—as we all turned toward the entrance to the main room. My sister was dressed head to toe in hot pink with a stuffed Chihuahua in her purse. Next to her was my Fee.
A lot of eyes followed both women as they walked deeper into the room, but all I could see was Fiona. Her bright red hair was pin-straight, falling nearly to her waist in a fiery sheet. The crowd instinctively parted to let them pass. Her dress was short and tight, covered in green sequins.
It was strapless and nipped in at the waist before flaring at her hips.
The bottom of the dress caressed the tops of Fee’s creamy thighs, and the heels she had on made her legs look a mile long.
I didn’t even realize I was moving, but all of a sudden, I was halfway across the room and pulling her into my arms.
She had her contacts in, and her eyes looked like molten pennies.
Her makeup was darker than anything I had seen before, and she had on bright red lipstick that I wanted to smudge with a kiss.
Green swirls curled around her arms and neck, up onto her face.
Upon closer inspection, I saw it was a vine, covered in poison ivy leaves that had been painted on.
“Don’t ruin her makeup! It took me forever!” Charlie yelled. I ignored her as I claimed Fiona’s mouth, implementing my plan on smudging that lipstick.
“I know that look. Don’t even think about it. I just got here!” Fiona scolded good-naturedly, but I didn’t miss the heat in her gaze and the way she clung to me after that kiss.
By 2 a.m., the party was still going strong, the Brothers and club girls used to long nights.
But Fee had trouble keeping her eyes open.
Her yawns had grown more frequent, and it was clear she was tuckered out.
I pretty much carried her to my room, just helping her out of the dress and shoes before falling into bed beside her.
My last thought before succumbing to sleep was how excited I was to spend more holidays with my girl.
I was woken up by a dark figure standing over my bed.
Before I could grab my gun, I recognized Scythe, slightly illuminated by the hallway light.
Which wasn’t exactly a comforting realization, but at least I knew he wasn’t there to hurt us.
Looking at Fiona, he put a finger to his lips before motioning for me to follow him.
He slipped out of the room like a silent spectre as I shoved my feet into boots and pulled jeans and a shirt on.
Grabbing my cut, I slipped it on and tucked my gun in the back of my pants.
I followed Scythe out and made sure to lock up.
He was leaning against the wall closest to the stairwell, waiting for me.
As soon as we started down the steps, he began talking.
“Like we discussed, Keys stayed up watching the cameras at Honeys. He saw Ginger procrastinating until everyone was gone, and then got a pretty good shot of her grabbing a big chunk of bills in the back office during cash out. When she left the club, Keys grabbed me, and we went to her apartment. With the amount of money we found, it was enough to motivate her to chat with us,” Scythe said.
Speeding up, we quickly arrived at the paint shop, where Reaper, Crow, and Keys were all awake and waiting.
In the center of the room, Ginger’s hands were cuffed behind a metal chair without armrests, zip ties binding each of her ankles to the chair legs.
Beside her was a rolling suitcase and duffle bag, both open, with visible wads of cash stuffed into every crevice.
I had known Ginger for almost a decade. She had started as a waitress at Honeys before transitioning to bartending, and eventually, bar manager.
I didn’t have a ton of interaction with her, but I was under the impression she was an asset to the club.
She was familiar with the guys, knew what it was like at strip clubs, was always pragmatic, and I never heard any complaints about her work.
Customers loved her, and she never fought with other employees.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights surrounded by the antiseptic-white walls of the paint shop, Ginger looked much older than her thirty-nine years. Her face was streaked with tears and old makeup as she visibly shook in the chair.
“We caught her trying to leave town early this morning. Once we saw what was in her bag, I thought you might want to say goodbye personally. Now that you’re here, we can start questioning her,” Keys told me, and Ginger looked at him with a mix of anger and fear.
“Where’s Trish?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She disappeared after you kicked Dolly out of town. I haven’t seen or heard from her,” Ginger replied.
“Where could she be? C’mon, Ginger, you were smart enough to get away with stealing from us for quite a while. You must have had some backup plans if Trish ever turned on you.”
“It was her idea! She’s the one who taught me how to do it!” Ginger shot back.
“Well, she’s not here, and you are, with our money. So, once again, where might Trish go?”
“I don’t know where she is! I swear! Don’t you think I would tell you if I did? I don’t owe her shit,” Ginger shouted frantically.
“Hmmm. Brothers, I think we need to jump-start Ginger’s memory,” Reaper mused. “How’s your son doing, Ginger? He still living with your parents in Virginia?” She visibly paled at his question.
“How did you…? Leave Owen out of this!” she snapped, and struggled in her restraints.
“Cute kid. Looks like your parents are doing a good job with him. Is that where you were planning on running off to?" I asked.
We had known about Ginger’s son since she first started, having run a full background check, like we did for all employees of businesses the club owns. We would never have hurt an innocent child. That was not what our Brotherhood stood for, but Ginger didn’t need to know that.
“Please, don’t hurt him! He’s got nothing to do with this.
I’ll tell you anything you want to know.
I just wanted more cash to send to him. I figured the club has so much, and I just wanted to give my son a better life, and then it somehow got out of hand.
Trish, well, she just kept pushing! I didn’t mean for it to go this far.
You gotta believe me. Please, I’m sorry! ”
“Now, Ging, calm down. We don’t have to involve Owen. Just tell us if you can think of anywhere Trish would have gone. Anyone who would have helped her,” I coaxed.
On a hiccup, she closed her eyes and shook her head. After staying quiet for a moment, she suddenly looked back up and eagerly started speaking.
“She has a godmother. A friend of her mom’s. She lives about two hours away. I know they’re close, and she’s helped Trish get out of some binds in the past.”
“Name?” Keys asked, tapping away on his tablet.
“Nora. Her last name starts with an S. I can’t remember it, but she runs a clothing store in Lancaster. It’s called Nora’s ... something.” Ginger seemed relieved to have finally been able to give us a piece of information.
“Where else?”
“But, but … I just told you about Nora. Aren’t you going to check there?” she asked, looking confused.
“Sure, we could ride out and look for her and leave you here in the meantime. If she’s not there, we’ll come back and see if you remembered any other locations.
One by one, we’ll ride out and check them, but you?
You won’t leave that chair. It could take hours—days, even.
You’ll stay in that spot without food, water, or a bathroom the whole time, no matter what.
You’re not leaving this room until we find Trish, if you make it out of here at all,” Reaper replied calmly.
“You can’t just leave me here! People will look for me!”
“Can’t we?” Scythe asked, head cocked to the side and one eyebrow raised. He was hanging in the back, hovering by his toolbox, waiting for the chance to get to use it. He slowly stepped in front of Ginger, bending at the hip to meet her face to face.
“No one is gonna look for you, and even if they did, there would be nothing to find. Maybe if you give us something useful, we’ll make sure there’s enough left of you for your parents to bury.”
Scythe stood upright and stepped to the side of the chair.
Bracing his foot behind the back legs, he used one hand to give Ginger a solid push until the chair fell backward on the floor.
Her head hit the ground hard, but it wasn’t bleeding.
With his usual eerie calm, Scythe squatted down next to Ginger’s prone form.
His emotionless face tracked her body head to toe before he started speaking again.
“Looks like you banged your head. Must hurt. I’m sure that’s what you’re focusing on now.
What you need to think about is how your arms are gonna feel if we leave you on the floor like this.
” Ginger started squirming against her binds, moving her arms rapidly—a futile attempt at trying to get them into a position that wasn’t cutting off the blood flow.
“Maybe we should all go have breakfast, then come back and see if you’re feeling more loquacious?” Scythe offered.
“No! Don’t leave me down here like this. I really am trying to think of more places…Please, put me back up. I don’t feel right. Please, I’m dizzy.” Scythe snorted at her pleas.
“Talk,” he ordered, before moving to stand over her, a looming presence she couldn’t escape.
“There was a guy, he was old. Trish would hook up with him occasionally because he always bought her shit. He has a penthouse apartment at the Woodlands, where she used to meet him at. Paul.”
“You’re doing good Ginger, just a few more,” I grunted, and she wailed from her position prone on the floor.