Chapter 72
Reaper
“Oh, God,” Lark whispers, her voice heavy with unease.
I turn in the direction she’s looking and ice spreads through my veins at seeing a sex doll in the corner with Lark’s face taped to it. My fingers itch to destroy it, but we can’t leave any trace that we’ve been here, except for the cameras.
“Well, that definitely proves he’s obsessed with you, soeur [seur], but not enough to prove he’s your stalker,” Loki says quietly, and we both nod in agreement before getting to work.
I head over to his dresser, not really wanting to do this myself, but I don’t want Lark to see anything in here. I quickly search through the drawers, but other than finding a few more sex toys, there’s nothing there.
“Over here, I think I found something,” Lark tells us, and I put back the items the way they were in the last drawer before closing it and walking over to her.
She’s pushed aside some old coats in his closet and points to a section of the back wall. There’s a small lip which runs vertically that appears to run the entire length of the wall. Is it a door?
“It might be,” Loki replies and I realize I must have said that part aloud. “There’s a keyhole, too. With this being hidden like this, I bet Zac ol’ boy wants to keep something secret.”
“Razor or Ryder, can one of you come into the room to the right of the top of the stairs. We think we found something.”
“On our way, Reaper,” Razor replies.
I look around his closet a bit closer. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but there are a few boxes on the shelf running across the top of the rod. Reaching up, I grab one and open it up only to curl my lip in disgust.
“He’s definitely been keeping an eye on you, Darlin’.”
Lark leans in closer, a gasp escaping her at seeing the box full of pictures Zac had printed of her.
A few of them are smudged and have a residue on them I’m almost certain is dried cum as I look through a few of them.
Loki pulls out his phone and takes a few pictures before stepping out of the closet.
Looking over my shoulder, I notice he’s also taking pictures of the sex doll in the corner.
Closing up the box, I put it back and quickly look through the others, but they contain various odds and ends and memorabilia Zac kept from his childhood.
“What’d you find?” Razor asks from behind me, as I close up the last box, putting it back where it was.
“Darlin’, can you step out so Razor and Ryder have room to look at this?”
Lark does as I ask and I stand off to the side, letting them come in closer. “Look in the back corner. There’s a lip that runs vertically and there’s a keyhole. Are you able to pick it?”
“Should be able to,” Ryder says as he crouches down to get a closer look. “Looks like it’s a normal key lock.”
“At least it’s not a medeco, abloy, or DOM lock,” Razor mutters and he chuckles when he notices my confusion. “They’re three of the hardest locks to pick,” he explains and I nod.
“It doesn’t look like there’s any rigging for alarms, at least from this side,” Ryder says and I hope like fuck that there isn’t anything from the inside that will alert Zac that we’re here and found his hidden room.
Pushing up my sleeve, I look at my watch and frown when I realize we’ve already been inside for about ten minutes.
“Perimeter team, are we still clear?” I ask.
“Affirmative,” Odin replies.
“Python, Smoke, where is his tracker showing?”
“He’s still showing at Lark’s tavern,” Python replies.
“Good. Keep us posted, we might have found something.”
“Will do, Pres.”
“Got it,” Razor says before packing up his tools. He then slides the door a fraction of an inch and waits a moment.
“We just opened a hidden door. Any change with Zac?” he asks.
“No change,” Smoke replies.
Razor looks back at me and I give him a chin lift. “Open it. If it triggers an alarm, we’ll just have to be quick.”
Razor returns my chin lift and slides open the pocket door.
“Shit,” I mutter as I take in the room and follow Razor into it, ducking low to avoid hitting my head on the shelf and stepping over a pile of boots and shoes. “Fucking hell.”
“Fucking hell, is right,” Ryder says in agreement as he steps in beside me. “How did none of us realize the other rooms are smaller than they should have been considering we saw how big it was outside?”
“I don’t know, but we need to get pictures of all of this.”
“Oh, fuck,” Lark mutters as she steps up beside me. She slips a trembling hand in mine, and I give her hand a squeeze, trying to comfort her, because ‘oh fuck’ is right.
In front of us is a large cork board that has a map of Junction Creek and the surrounding area pinned to it.
Lark’s house and supper club are marked on the map in red circles, and next to the supper club is another circle with a handwritten ‘tavern’ inside it.
Below the map, there are pictures of both buildings burning.
Next to that cork board, are blueprints of all three buildings that he’s written notes on.
There are even notes pinned to the board for how he sabotaged the fire alarms, the security feed, the windows, doors, steps, all of it.
The cork board on the far wall is even bigger—it’s the width of the other two boards combined and twice as tall.
Numerous pictures of Lark are pinned to it.
Pictures of Lark at her family’s house.
At work in both the supper club and the tavern.
Of her around town.
In Khloe’s house.
In our house.
In the clubhouse.
Some of the pictures are intimate ones of us having sex. The pictures where I’m in them with her, he’s blacked out my face with marker and taped his own face onto mine.
“How long has he been stalking me? This one is from right after my breakup with Denny,” she says, pointing to one of the pictures before looking toward the others.
She freezes and angrily points to another picture.
“How the hell did he get pictures of me in your house and in the clubhouse?” Lark seethes and I step up beside her, needing to know how old this picture is so we can find out how this fucker got past our systems.
Before I can even ask, I hear Python’s voice over the com devices.
“I’ll look into it, Queen, but if someone could send me pictures of what’s there, that would help narrow things down.”
“On it,” Razor grits out through a clenched jaw as he starts taking close-up pictures of what’s tacked to the cork board. Lark pulls out her phone and starts taking pictures as well.
On a nearby table, I spot more blueprints. I grab them, flipping through each of the designs. The last one has my stomach bottoming out.
“How the fucking hell did he get fucking accurate blueprints of the clubhouse? Of all of our houses?”
The others stop what they’re doing and crowd closer around so they can see better.
I wouldn’t be as pissed if it were just the main two levels of the clubhouse that were on the blueprints, but somehow the fucking asshole was able to get blueprints of the basement which includes the cellar and the panic room.
He also has our plans for how we were going to dig access tunnels from the houses into another panic room which will eventually connect to the panic room under the clubhouse.
“We never released these to the public,” Devil seethes from his spot behind me. “How the fuck did this fucker get his hands on them?”
Lark tilts her head in thought. “Would Star have been able to gain access to these by chance?”
I pause at that, not having thought of that angle yet. Ever since Mae was here last September and that shit went down with Luscious, Star’s efforts to worm her way into becoming an Old Lady increased tenfold. Could she have somehow been in contact with Zac?
“Python, were you able to go through all of the footage from when Star stole those keys?”
“Not all of it. It’s a shit ton of feed to go through.”
“Pull in whoever you need to, but we need that footage gone through. If she was the one to steal these blueprints, her ass is getting hauled back here, pronto.”
My gaze moves back and forth between the blueprints, the pictures of the fire, and the pictures of Lark. This has to end.
“Where’s Zac, now?” I seethe, my body damn near vibrating with rage.
“He’s still showing at the tavern,” Smoke replies, frustration lacing his voice.
“But can you see him on the tavern’s cameras? Or the others we have placed around the area?”
“There is one person back in the corner and mostly covered by shadows. It could be him, but he isn’t showing his whole face so we can’t be sure. We sent Nathan and Drake to check it out a few minutes ago.”
“Nathan, Drake, any updated?”
“Spotted him. There are two others with them, all of them wearing hoodies or hats pulled low. Gonna try to get closer. Stand by,” Drake replies, and I’m surprised by how well we can pick up his voice over the noise from the tavern.
We wait for a few seconds when all of a sudden, loud voices come over the line as they curse.
“Sorry, man,” Drake slurs, and I can almost see him acting a little tipsy. “Didn’t mean to spill on ya.”
Their voices rise and the sound of skin hitting skin coming over the line has me tensing, worried the assholes have started a fight.
“No fighting in the bar!,” Erica, one of Lark’s bartenders, loud voice comes over the line. “Break it up or take that shit outside.”
“They’re separating,” Python says quietly, and my muscles relax slightly at that. “Looks like it could be Zac. In the confrontation, he turned just enough to partially see his face. Drake, Nathan, confirm visual.”
We all wait silently for a few minutes before Drake’s voice finally comes over the line again. “It’s Zac, but I have no idea who the others were. Shit, Zac’s leaving. Do we follow?”
“Yes, but stay out of sight. Keep us updated on his location.”
“Will do, Pres.”