Chapter 5
SHE’S GHOSTING ME
VIKING
The fifties-inspired diner is packed full of morning goers getting their breakfast. Booths line the walls in faded reds and blues.
The vintage checkered floor’s scuffed up from the countless biker boot treads in here.
No doubt they’re nursing wicked hangovers with the thick sludge that passes for coffee in this place.
A chrome-trimmed counter runs the length of the room.
Its row of stools is already full of cuts I recognize and locals with tight shoulders.
Steam curls up from once-white mugs and fresh plates filled with heaping portions.
The smell of bacon grease and burnt toast fills the air, assailing my senses.
Most of the crew was still parked out front of the motel, probably tucked tight behind the thick curtains, sleeping off their late night of bad decisions and chasing tail.
They’ve got plenty of time to roll out of bed and sort their shit before our meeting tonight.
Meanwhile, it’s already got my back up after the exit we made.
Thanks to Harlow’s little performance, I’ll need to smooth things over before we head back home.
I catch an empty table in the back and bee-line from the front door, skirting around a kid half hanging out of a booth and an older couple arguing quietly over the crossword puzzle in the newspaper.
The vinyl seat squeaks when I slide in. The table’s coated with old menus and local pictures under an epoxy coating. A scrapbook to keep you entertained while you eat.
The waitress nods her approval and gestures that she’ll be over in a sec. I’m in no hurry, but could definitely use a better cup of coffee than what was available at the motel’s front desk. That muddy water barely qualified as caffeine.
My phone’s been silent since I checked in with Josie last night.
Not a peep this morning. No response to the few texts I left her last night before conking out.
I flip it face up on the table, like staring at it hard enough might make it light up.
She could be busy, those cupcakes taking up her evening and making her rush out the door this morning, but I hate not knowing.
It’s splitting my focus, and I don’t need that right now. Not with everything on the line.
“Hey sugar, you want a menu?” the waitress asks, pad in hand.
“No, I’m good. I’ll take coffee with cream, two eggs over easy, bacon, and toast.”
“You got it. I’ll be right back with your coffee.” She turns on her heels in her thick orthopedic shoes, hustling to the next couple of tables to check in before disappearing behind the counter.
I tap my phone screen again, hopeful that I missed something during my quick exchange to order breakfast. Nothing’s changed. I check to make sure I have service out here. All the bars are nice and thick, taunting me with their ability to put a text through if there was one to be had.
The damn woman’s just ignoring me.
That realization is heavier than it should be. I hate leaving Josie and Haley alone, especially when they’re states away, when getting back quickly isn’t possible. I’m about ready to call in reinforcements, ask Pierce to pop over and see what the hell is going on, but a shadow clouds the table.
“Mornin’,” Silas mutters, letting Harlow slide in before him.
I grunt my greeting, eyes tracking them as they settle across from me. “Just you two?” I ask.
“Nope. You get me, too, Pres,” Chopper says, looking rough. He drops into my side of the booth, the bones of it groaning under the added weight.
“Good night?” I laugh and flag down the waitress for a few more mugs of coffee.
“Great, night.” He smirks. “That is after you assholes left. Really fucked up the mood there for a bit.”
I shift my focus across the table, letting his words hang like a jury’s judgment.
Harlow couldn’t look any less concerned for her part in last night’s early departure, her nails drawing all her attention as she inspects her chipped polish like it’s a matter of life and death.
Meanwhile, the man I was counting on to have my back only made the situation worse.
It would have been better for me to walk into that meeting alone. Not that we got anywhere before shit went sideways.
“Four coffees.” The mugs clank against the table, sloshing dark liquid dangerously close to the rim. “Y’all want something to eat, too?”
Orders are called out before she leaves again, nonslip shoes squeaking against the tile. The noise in the diner builds, almost too loud for any sort of productive conversation. But it’s also the perfect camouflage to discuss this evening’s meeting.
This trip is starting to feel like a big waste of fucking time. I don’t know why I thought I’d get something out of it. Any man worth getting advice from on how to take the club straight wouldn’t be here this weekend when the town’s full of degenerates and dirty dealings.
The road feels like it’s narrowing down to a T.
I’ve got two options: drop the club and figure out what the hell my life looks like on the other side, or buck up and make sure none of us get nabbed and that our product’s locked up nice and tight without a big flashing sign pointing back at us on runs.
Either way, there’s no clean exit, but the answer’s clear, and I fucking hate it.
“So, we gonna talk about your conversation with Patch? Or are you finally done with this bullshit idea you’re holding onto?” Si doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s direct and way too fucking observant, but that’s what makes him damn good at what he does.
My frustrated sigh pulls everyone’s attention. “We need a solution for the club, but me stepping down and leaving ain’t fucking it.”
Si’s mouth quirks, but Chopper looks like I’ve pulled the rug out from under him. He wasn’t at the table last night, doesn’t know I hadn’t let the idea of going straight go.
“The fuck you talking about, Vik?”
“It’s not important. What we need to focus on is tonight. We know Patch is here, and you two need to steer clear until I can make sure he’s not looking to cause a scene. But has anyone caught sight of Steel, yet?”
“Haven’t seen him, but he’s here.” The one person I don’t expect to chime in answers.
Si tips his head towards his wife. “And why the fuck do you know that?”
The obnoxiously possessive growl that comes out of him is laughable. Something happens out of view under the table, and Harlow squawks before shooting him a look that makes my balls retract.
“Do that again and see how fun it is to jerk off with missing fingers,” she hisses, creating a gap between their bodies, and turning her attention to me.
“He’s got a thing for younger women.” She throws a quick snear at her husband. He looks ready to drag her out of here by her hair, with every new jab she sends his way. “His current piece of ass is attached to her phone twenty-four-seven, and she’s been documenting their trip down here.”
Harlow pulls out her phone, taps on the screen a few times, and twists it around for me to see. The timestamp is two minutes ago, and she’s at the beach, drink in hand, tits out for anyone to see, even though it’s barely ten a.m.
None of the beaches around here are nude, so I’m sure that’ll garner the wrong kind of attention. Steel’s got his hands full with that one, but then again, the girl looks barely eighteen.
“That doesn’t tell me where he is.”
Harlow holds up her finger. It’s perfect timing because our waitress returns with a platter of our food and passes it out. By the time she’s done, the phone’s in my face again. This time, Steel’s on the screen, looking pissed at life. The little hearts around his leather-clad frame look ridiculous.
“Told you. They’re staying at some swanky place up town. Must be nice.” She sends another side eye toward her husband.
“Enough, wildcat. Eat your fucking breakfast. And if you cut the shit…” He leans in, lowering his voice, but not enough that I miss the rest of his sentence. “I’ll eat you in the bathroom when you’re done.”
Her mood immediately flips, and she picks up her silverware, diving into the omelet steaming on her plate.
Their back-and-forth reminds me of the silence radiating from my pocket.
“Hey, you heard from Josie today?”
Harlow pauses shoveling her meal. “Uhh, nope. Why, what’s up? Something happen?”
“Don’t know, haven’t heard from her since yesterday, after school pick up.”
“Want me to text her?”
“No, it’s fine. She’s probably just busy.”
Harlow must see something I’m not fast enough to hide from crossing my face, because her fingers fly against her screen. Not even thirty seconds later, it vibrates on the table.
“She’s with a client.”
My fist collides with the table. I shove Chopper out of my way so I can stand, reach for my wallet, throw down enough cash to cover our meals, and apologize for the outburst to the waitress who’s staring at the commotion.
They don’t say anything, just watch me peel out of the diner without a clue.
Josie doesn’t fucking work today.