Chapter 34 Jackal
JACKAL
My life is currently a flood of numbers.
Ten. The number of hours since I kissed my loves goodbye.
Eight. The number of hours since I saw Garrett wheel tentatively out of the garage with Isla on the back. Neither of them wearing helmets, which I’ll spank both their asses for when I find them. But the joy I saw on both their faces when they returned, warmed me down to my boots.
I know you shouldn’t check your phone while driving, but I keep mine on a mount on my handlebars. Usually, it’s just directions, but on a long seven-hour ride, I can check shit on my phone in an emergency, if I need to. And I needed to see what Bear and Sunshine were up to.
Five. The number of hours into our journey to Cedar City we were before I got a notification that a stranger rang the doorbell and pulled a gun just as Garrett answered.
Also, five. Hours passed since I saw Isla run up the driveway, barefoot and crying, clutching a bag and a wooden box.
I veered off the road, destroying the formation, causing a fucking shit show. Hadn’t bothered to connect my headset to anyone else, as it’s always connected to Garrett, and it just felt wrong.
I heard the honking of trucks and cars as the bikes behind me pulled over, and those ahead tried to use the shoulder to get back to me.
But, by then, I’d already seen the flames licking up the siding of Isla’s home and the man using Isla, placing a gun to her temple, to control a blood-soaked Garrett and get him into the truck that looked a lot like the one that ran Garrett off the road.
My heart had felt as though it was beating out of my chest.
Unable to speak, I showed Catfish because he was the one who got to me, first.
When Grudge arrived, panicked and wondering what had happened, Catfish used my phone to show him while I threw up on the side of the road.
Three. The number of hours since Wren sent me an enlarged and cleaned-up view of the asshole who wore a balaclava and hood to grab Garrett and Isla. A frozen frame where the gap between his gloves and the wrist of his jacket revealed ink I knew.
Black. Old prison work. A shape I know.
My stomach bottomed out then and there.
Jonathan Paltrow. Also known as Sidekick.
Once, one of my closest friends. A former Outlaw.
And one I didn’t know hurt kids. Until his own little sister came to me, bleeding and terrified.
Swearing she’d rather die than go back. She lifted her T-shirt enough that I could see a history of abuse etched into her skin and the bloom of fresh bruises.
And I believed her.
My sister took her in until she was old enough to go to college. College that I paid for.
He’d screamed when I put him to the floor using ropes tied through gaps in the metal of the mezzanine. The way that fucking ink taunted me. I remember the way his bravado cracked when he realized nothing was gonna save him from me carving the tattoos off his skin.
Knox, my president, had told me I didn’t need to do it alone. But I wanted to. It felt personal, to be deceived by a friend into thinking he was a good person when he was really a monster.
I thought I knew him well enough to track him, but he knew me well enough to evade.
For a little while.
Until a credit card bill came to his house that I held the spare key to, telling me where he’d been spending.
I can still remember the way he screamed, and the grotesque smell of flesh burning as I used a blowtorch on his Outlaws ink.
What I hadn’t prepared for was three of the pedophiles he hung with staging a recovery. Realizing I was outnumbered, I used the blowtorch to set fire to his clothes so the guy could burn before he even got to hell, then, I retreated.
I searched for details of what happened to him for months. With his injuries, I was certain he’d appear at some hospital or another, but he never did.
The level of regret I felt about never finding him is almost matched to the regret I feel now, knowing that allowing him to live, or really, not ensuring he was dead, will be the cause of my own demise.
Because no one will be able to calm me if he’s taken Garrett and Isla from me forever.
My final number. Zero minutes. Because I’m now pulling onto the side road that has our homes on it.
The ride back has been a blur of asphalt and fury.
My brothers rode around me, like we were a singular unit.
It was tight and fast. Nobody signaled for a break.
And Grudge did something highly unusual.
He moved me up next to him in formation.
That way, if any new information came in, I could signal him to stop the column, so I didn’t kill us all by pulling off the interstate like I had.
The mess of tears and fear and panic returns when I see that Isla’s home is gone.
It’s decimated. No roof. No walls. Just a burnt-out ash footprint with weird sculptures left by the things that did not burn. The tall lamp stands in the office, the metal frame of the plastic table in the kitchen.
My poor sweet girl had been making her mark on that house. Worse, she’d been fixing her heart, processing her grief. And now, all of it’s gone.
It’s cordoned off. Lucy is standing in a suit, talking to the fire marshal.
Smoke is quick off his bike to join her. As a former firefighter, he might be able to help understand what the hell went on here today.
Grudge grabs my shoulder, squeezing firmly. “One foot in front of the other, brother.” He raises a hand to Lucy but doesn’t go to her. Instead, he walks me to the front door of my house. “We face it together, yeah?”
I look at my president and nod.
When we step inside, I can see blood on the wooden floor, and I’m glad I’ve already been sick, because there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up this time, despite my nausea. Something sparkles by the couch, and I pick it up. A little silver earring.
“I think that’s Isla’s,” Quinn says, touching my arm. “There was a box on the floor with jewelry spilled out of it. I thought I’d picked it all up. I’m so sorry.”
I place it in the pocket of my cut, where I keep a button from the shirt Garrett wore the first night we were together. The one that we laughed at when it hit the floor as I eagerly ripped his shirt open.
I found it the following morning, and it’s been my talisman ever since.
“I’m gonna hunt him down to the end of the fucking earth and kill him.”
Wraith steps up onto my other side, squeezing my shoulder just like Grudge is. They’re the only things tethering me down.
Raven appears, and I look up from the blood to see that the old ladies are all here. “We made food because we thought you might be hungry after spending all day on your bikes.”
“Food is the last thing I need,” I snap.
Wraith huffs. “It’s gonna be a long night. And until we have a lead or set out to search in the dark, you’re gonna take some of whatever’s been cooked and shove it down your fucking throat.”
Atom steps in front of me. “Do you trust us to get you through this like we have for every other brother who’s been in your position?”
The house smells like wet ash and chemicals from the fire across the street.
Through the living room window, I can see the burned-down shell of Isla’s home.
“She could have died. I don’t know why it was so late when she ran, maybe she was napping or some shit.
But I almost lost her in that. And now, this…
” I shove my finger in the direction of the blood.
“Garrett was still hurting from the accident. This says he’s badly injured. I could still lose them both.”
Atom grabs me away from Wraith and Grudge’s support and shoves me up against a wall. The fucker has a few inches on me and a lot more pounds. “Fucking look at me, brother.”
His forearm is pressed hard against my chest, making it tough to breathe. It’s enough to shock me out of the tailspin I was just about to enter and do as he asks.
“I asked, do you trust us to—”
“Yeah, I fucking trust you,” I say, the words angry.
“Good. Let your anger be your true north. But don’t let it consume you while we figure this out. I get he’s Garrett to you while you’re in your home. But he’s Shade to the rest of us. A trusted brother. We’re going to bring him and Isla home. You have to fucking believe it.”
I want to shove him away. Tell him to go fuck himself. Instead, I drop my forehead to his shoulder. “I won’t survive this if they don’t.”
Atom grabs the back of my head. “I’m not going to let either of those things happen.”
Lucy marches in with Smoke. There’s soot on her face. “They’re done for the night. We’ll have an official report in a few hours, but it was set deliberately. Accelerant was used. So, they’re treating it as arson, but the police say it’s too early to declare it’s connected to the abduction.”
I hate that word. I hate what it means. “So, the police are out looking for them?”
Ember steps up next to Atom. “We tried to explain. But the sheriff couldn’t get his head around the three of you being together, so…”
“So what?” I ask.
Quinn steps over and wraps her hands around Smoke’s bicep. “The police are floating ideas that the two of them left together. That, perhaps, the abduction was staged. That Isla set fire to her own house. They’d rather come up with any absurd idea than actually look at the evidence and truly help.”
“Fucking cops,” Grudge mutters. “They hate bikers.”
“I’ve sent them the video excerpt of them being led away,” Catfish says. “But no one is getting back to me.”
“I’ll keep on them,” Lucy says. “I’ll apply any legal pressure I can.”
“Atom,” Grudge says. “Go with Taco to see Sheriff Tanner Radcliffe. Make him watch the footage Wren sent over. I know how much you like fucking with him.”
“My pleasure,” Atom says. “I’ll make sure every last man is out looking.”