Twenty
I was glad I wasn’t Stitch, or even Ryder, because I didn’t want to be the poor bastard in charge of resolving this shit. As it approached early evening, Tommy was still nowhere to be found, with a few of the other prospects picking up the slack in the kitchen, and we’d found that the camera on the utility door had been tampered with more than just last night.
See, it wasn’t obvious at first, because it was seamless, but when you actually watched the timer in the corner, and it suddenly jumped ten minutes or more, it was clear to see that this was yet another way this bastard had been coming and going.
“I refuse to believe this is Tommy,” Has said for the fifth time, and hell, none of us wanted to believe it, but he’d been on the list early on for something in his past, and now there was this. That led to a decision that made us all feel dirty. Checking his locker.
The brothers who didn’t bunk here at the clubhouse had large lockers, so they could store the shit they didn’t want to lug back and forth, and we were now on a mission to check his, with the master key that only Reacher had access to. Well, I guess now Stitch had it too. We’d never resorted to checking a fucking locker before, but suddenly, in light of Tommy’s unexplained absence, it seemed necessary. For all we knew, it’d give us a vital clue to finding him, but at worst, it just might show us who our attacker had been this whole time.
“When you think about it, all this stuff has been happening since Tommy joined us,” Ice said quietly, holding up a hand as we all tried to speak. “I know, I know, so have we all. I’m just saying. If it can be anyone, it can just as easily be him. Or Rocket. Or Micro, or any of the other fucking prospects. The only people we’re sure of are us, and Reacher.”
“And our old ladies, unless you’re now suggesting one of them is a psycho rapist,” Has said, freezing when deathly silence hit, and everyone stopped to stare at him.
“Fuck. Ry… sorry, man. I didn’t mean… I know it’s not her. Fuck!” Tori, Ryder’s old lady, met him the first time when she kidnapped and forced him into sex while drugged, so yeah, that one hit a little close to home, didn’t it?
“This is his?” Stitch asked, resting his palm against locker fourteen. We all stared at it for a moment, knowing there was no going back after this. No locker had ever been breached before, and this was something we couldn’t undo later. Hell, it’d be a huge betrayal of trust no matter what, but just in case it could save a life, or more, we had to do it.
“Want me to do it?” I could see Stitch was struggling with it, and hell, I’m an asshole. I’ll fucking take the hit to my soul. He shook his head, taking a deep breath.
“Jesus, I’m sorry, brother, I really hope we’re not betraying you here.”
He slipped the key into the lock and turned it, and we all held our breath as he pulled the door open. At first glance it looked perfectly normal. A few shirts were hanging up, and there was a bag of toiletries and a few books, mostly on cooking. Underneath those though, there was a shoe box, and that’s when things got weird.
“Am I seeing this?” Stitch asked, setting the box down on the bench and keeping hold of the lid. Inside the box were some keepsakes. Pictures, and trinkets, a pair of underwear he’d clearly taken from some lady at some point. A wad of cash, like serious cash. Thousands, maybe more.
And wrapped in a bloody piece of cloth, a knife. The blade was also bloodstained, and that sudden ache in my back was completely erroneous because we had the knife he’d left in me, but this was… this was someone else’s blood. Some other victim.
Has reached into the box and dug out some letters, rolled up with an elastic band between them.
“These are love letters to someone, but they’ve been returned in the mail. They’re open, but yeah, clearly whoever he sent these to, didn’t fucking want his advances.” Lack of consent was a big issue for Has, and his switch had just been flipped.
“So are we saying this is enough evidence to assume Tommy has been behind all of this?”
Ryder ran his hand through his hair, agitation in every fucking inch of his posture.
“And he’s dumb enough to keep just enough shit here to implicate him? Let’s think this through, yeah? This is one of our brothers, and prospect or not, he deserves us to be fair, and not jump to a really fucking obvious conclusion.”
Has was reading one of the letters and glaring at it.
“He was a pretty fucking aggressive ‘admirer’ of this poor woman. If she rejected these, how many did he send before she was pushed to that course of action? Jesus, what things did he do before or after this?”
“It does feel a little like we’re being led to a handy box of clues here, VP. I mean, I like Tommy, and I don’t want to believe this of him, but if this was anyone else, I’d be wondering why the fuck this box just happened to contain the very things that would point to him as our aggressor.”
Ice had a point, just like Ryder had a point, but Has also had a fucking point. What was the actual point here?
“VP, we need to find him, and then we can puzzle all this shit out. If it’s him, I’ll fry his fucking nuts with one of my torches, but I need proof it’s him first.” Nobody seemed to be in disagreement with me, but nobody looked completely convinced of his innocence either.
There was just enough doubt there to make it a really fucking uncomfortable situation. One way or another, we had to find Tommy, but whether we’d be rescuing him or torturing him, hell… the jury’s out on that one right now.
Grace
W hen Torch rang me that evening, he sounded completely unlike him. He was quiet, almost monotone, maybe even defeated.
“What’s going on, Torch? Has someone else been injured?”
He sighed, and I waited impatiently for a response. It took longer than I’d expected, but finally he started to speak.
“Nah. Shit’s getting worse here. I wish I could see you, and fucking hold you, but I’m so scared of having you anywhere near this place right now, and I can’t risk coming to you either.”
“Full lockdown,” I said, commiserating with his situation, and he snorted.
“Fuck that, if it wasn’t about your safety, I’d be sneaking out for sure. One of my club brothers is missing, and we’re coming up empty on what’s happened to him.”
Oh my god. I sat up in bed, because I’d retired early, with a book and a glass of wine, when he’d called.
“Oh no! Do you think he’s been hurt or… or…” I couldn’t say it. Did I want to suggest his brother had been murdered? Club brother or not, these guys were as close as family, and I didn’t want to make this harder on him.
“There are two possibilities, babe, and both of them fucking suck.” Two? Both? He groaned and I heard bedding rustling, proving to me that he was in or on his bed too, and restless.
“Torch?”
“Jesus. Either he’s hurt or dead somewhere, or… yeah, or he’s the one behind all this shit, and we have to find him anyway, so we can deal with that.” Deal with it. By that, he obviously meant kill. How horrible to know this guy’s either a victim of the killer, or the killer himself.
“I’m sorry, Torch. Are… are you close with him?” He groaned, and I could picture him laying back and rubbing a hand over his shaved head with frustration.
“I mean, it’s Tommy, man. He’s… he’s a prospect, but he’s a good kid. At least, we all thought that. I’m really hoping it’s not a lie, but if he’s not the bad guy, then there’s a real possibility that this fuck has killed him, and that breaks my heart too. He was due to be patched in so fucking soon, too. Why would he be caught up in this, even if he…”
“You think he figured something out? Or maybe suspected someone, and they had to get rid of him.” I heard his bedding move as he reacted to my words. Did he sit up? I wished I could see him. We had to make it a video call next time, so I could at least see his face.
“Fuck. That’s a good point, and I don’t know if we’ve even thought that far into it. I think we’re all still reeling from the fact that this fucker killed Jock, and might have killed Tommy too, and even worse, that if it’s Tommy doing it then, well-”
“Jock? Who’s Jock?”
Torch cleared his throat and I heard more rustling. Was he getting out of bed? Getting ready for bed? Flailing about with frustration? Once more I wished I could see him.
“Jock was a member of the club, and he retired recently, but he was old school. A member of the old club, and stayed when Reacher and Stitch took over. Fuck. That poor old bastard. He was here to warn Reacher of something, but Ally’s accident got in the way.” Almost as if the culprit knew they were on borrowed time.
“You think they targeted Ally, to try and stop the meeting with Jock?”
Torch suddenly barked out a laugh.
“Fucking wish you were here working this shit with us. You’ve got a keen brain, hot doctor.”
His voice held a little of his usual snark, and it made me smile, relief taking some of the tension out of my posture.
“Yes, and skilled hands,” I said quietly, wanting to hear him chuckle or laugh. He didn’t fail me, chuckling darkly as his bedding rustled again.
“Definitely need a bit of a check up, doc. I’ve got parts that need those skilled hands.” God yes. I opened my mouth to answer, but sudden banging, coming from his end of the phone, silenced me.
“Fuck. Babe, I gotta go. One of the guys is at my door. Stay safe, yeah, keep your eyes open, and stay clear of any bikers for now. I miss you.” He was gone before I could even respond, and I could only hope that his visitor wasn’t bringing him even more bad news.
A sound downstairs made me freeze, as I tried to work out if what I heard was in this house, or coming from next door. Everything that was going on had me so jumpy now. Did I just imagine it, or was there someone in my house?