Chapter 5 Callie
Present time—
“I expected you to be more menacing,” I admitted, sitting across from Agent Phillips at a booth in one of the greasy spoon diners on the outskirts of Las Vegas.
I scooted my ass across the red sticky seat, hoping like hell it was only syrup that gripped my flesh as the material squeaked. “Nice location.”
He smirked. “Glad to meet you too, Callie Withers.”
“Call me Callie. Oh wait, you already do,” I deadpanned, picking up a menu. At least it didn’t stick to my fingers.
“You’re sassy like your sister.” He flashed a grin. “She didn’t like me at all when we first met.”
I gave the FBI agent a once over, inspecting him from the top of his closely cropped head of dark hair to the muscled, hard body that disappeared below the table.
It wasn’t hard to guess why my sister became attracted to this man. He had this cross between a bad boy and a nerd that oddly worked for him.
Lots of dark ink covered his arms, but he wore glasses.
Short hair with prescription sunglasses perched on the top but a pen stuck into the pocket of his polo shirt.
He probably switched out the glasses and sunglasses so often he kept them both close at all times.
The tight dark blue material of his shirt hugged his bulging biceps and tapered down his trim torso.
He squinted occasionally and pushed his glasses up his nose when they slipped.
Clean, clipped nails on his fingers, but he wore a couple of rings.
One looked like an expensive class ring from college.
I didn’t doubt he had an impressive education.
Agent Phillips kept his body in top physical condition, and he appeared sharp, observant as his gaze flicked around the restaurant, and relaxed but ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
He fidgeted in his seat, betraying a slight inability to keep still. That was confirmed when he began tapping his fingers, caught himself, and picked up the salt and pepper shakers, moving them back and forth on the table’s surface.
“You have ADHD,” I observed. Just like Sadie.
He arched a brow.
“Pick up a menu and put the condiments away. You’re making me antsy.”
A chuckle left his lips as he pushed the shakers away, glancing down at the menu in front of him. “The only thing worth eating here is breakfast. Trust me on that.”
I didn’t see a reason not to. A man like him probably saw a lot of diners in the early morning hours after putting in a hard night’s work on a case. “Okay. I know what I want.”
Agent Phillips signaled to the waitress. She walked over, smoothing back her pink hair, and held up a notepad. After she greeted me, she took my order.
“Anything to drink?”
“Coffee and a large orange juice.” I thumbed in the agent’s direction. “He’s buying so one check.”
She snickered, leaving us to grab a coffee carafe. Once we had our cups full, she put in our order and checked in with her other customers.
Watching the strait-laced, too-serious man across from me, I wondered what brought him together with my sister. “When did you meet?”
He didn’t have to ask. We both knew who I referred to.
“When I interrogated her after Sadie was arrested. She was so pissed at me. Took a swing and hit my jaw.” He rubbed it with a tender smile on his face. “She’s like no one else I’ve ever met.”
He didn’t have that wrong.
“She told me about you,” I confessed. “A couple of months before she disappeared.”
“Oh?” He seemed surprised but in a good way.
“She said I could trust you, Agent Carson Phillips, because you cared about her, that you were sweet and charming, but you didn’t mess around. You followed the rules but would do anything to keep her safe. Is that true?”
“Yes.” He pushed his empty mug aside. “You can drop the Agent Phillips moniker. It’s stuffy. Just call me Carson.”
Nodding, I drank my coffee, almost finishing it. It wasn’t nearly as good without Cinnabon creamer, but the hazelnut wasn’t terrible. “Why did you agree to meet me tonight?”
“Evidence?” he asked, shrugging.
“I don’t think I’m giving you anything new. Am I?”
He shook his head. “No, probably not, but I’ll take a look.”
The waitress returned with our food, and we ate, pausing the conversation to tuck into our meal. Once I finished, I slid my plate away, noting Carson cleaned his plate and refilled his coffee.
I reached inside my handbag, pulling out the file folders with all the photos and documents I’d gotten from Bree.
Carson reached for the stack, discreetly opening the first folder at an angle to prevent anyone from seeing the contents. He cursed when he saw Sadie and the mayor. “Shit.”
“I thought you already discovered this evidence.”
“Most of it, yes.” He stared longingly down at my sister’s face. “Fuck. I miss her.”
I couldn’t help asking the next question that slipped from my mouth. “Do you think she’s still alive?”
He lifted his head to stare into my eyes.
Carson didn’t flinch or hesitate to answer.
“Sadie is intelligent, tough, street smart, and can handle herself in perilous situations. I taught her some self-defense moves, but she had her own way of protecting herself.” A brief, wistful smile widened his mouth.
“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met and the most selfless.
Sadie would do anything to help the other escorts.
Keeping them safe meant everything to her. ”
“Is that a yes?”
“I believe she could survive almost anything. It’s not in her nature to fail,” he grunted.
“I’ve become fond of Sadie, but I also respect the brave young woman who wouldn’t back down from the dangerous men who tried to control her.
She’s got an iron will. It’s awe-inspiring to learn her story.
She’s like a phoenix. Sadie will rise from the ashes, and she’ll make it home. ”
What an interesting metaphor. A bit cheesy, but I let him have it.
“You’re right. Whatever life throws at my sister, she always perseveres.”
He opened his mouth to reply when we heard the rumble of motorcycle engines. A half dozen bikes pulled into the parking lot, parking in a row in front of the diner. Men in leather vests cut the engines, silencing the throaty, growling beasts.
I sucked in a breath, wondering what we should do.
Were these men following us? Did they know I was Sadie’s sister and I sat across from an FBI agent?
“Hey, it’s okay. These are Devil’s Murder MC members, not Dirty Death.”
“Does that matter? They’re dangerous.”
“Anyone can be dangerous. At least bikers don’t hide it.”
I never thought about it like that.
“Should we leave?”
Carson shook his head. “No. There’s no need to feel intimidated.”
The group of bearded, heavily inked, wild-looking men pushed through the front door of the establishment, finding a big table in the farthest corner.
Not one put his back to the door or aisle.
They sat crowded relatively close together, facing the table, backs to the windows.
A couple seemed to watch outside for trouble.
I bet it followed on their heels with ravenous hunger.
Living life as an outlaw had to come with its own warning label.
One guy stood out from the rest. He couldn’t have been more than thirty.
I’d never seen so many tattoos on a person’s face before.
The number thirteen appeared twice. Roman numerals on the left.
A diamond with the number in the middle on the right.
On his forehead, a spiderweb peeked from his hairline.
Some symbol I didn’t recognize boldly etched in his ear and a cross on the opposite side of his face.
Above his left eye, I spotted a word in Greek. Spartan?
The biker kept his brown hair on the shorter side, closely shaven on the sides, but a soft wave wove through the strands. Were his eyes blue or green? I couldn’t tell from this distance. Maybe hazel.
A thick beard graced his strong jaw, slightly darker than his hair. A bit scruffy but definitely not unkempt. He didn’t let it grow wild.
There were two piercings in his left ear. A silver hoop high in the upper cartilage and a silver cross dangling from the lobe. He rounded out the bad boy look with a thin silver hoop in his right nostril.
Interesting. Actually, sexy as fuck.
His arms and neck were bare, covered in more dark ink. Something about this guy intrigued me. When his head turned, I caught the wolfish grin he flashed.
Shit. He caught me staring. His gaze flittered over me, lingering a few seconds before turning back to his biker friends. Or were those brothers? I really didn’t have a clue.
“Callie?”
Double shit. I felt a flush creeping up my neck when I realized I’d been caught staring at a stranger and ignoring the FBI agent I met for breakfast to go over my sister’s case. What the hell was I thinking?
“You were saying?” I asked, ignoring the booth with the bikers.
Carson shook his head. “You should stay away from those bikers. They’re trouble.”
“Because motorcycle clubs have a bad reputation?” I couldn’t help the snarky reply.
“No, Callie. They’re in a war with the Dirty Death MC. I don’t want you to end up in the crossfire.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Understood.”
Carson picked up the files I’d given him and shoved them into a leather satchel. He snapped the bag closed and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I think this meeting is over. You need to get back home. It’s not safe here.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He hesitated. “Okay. Sure.”
“Is the Devil’s Murder MC as bad as Dirty Death?”
“Depends on your definition of bad. If you’re asking if they bend the law and do as they wish, then yes. If you want to know if they ride around murdering people, that’s harder to answer. The burden is proof, and that’s something neither club leaves for us to find.”
Oh, wow, okay. “You’re saying they don’t leave witnesses or bodies. No one left to rat them out.”
“Maybe.” He picked up the check, rising to his feet. “You should leave with me. Don’t hang around here alone.”
With a sigh, I slid from the booth, slinging my purse across my neck and letting the bag rest against my hip.
I followed Carson into the aisle, noting he walked a few steps ahead of me but seemed attuned to the vibe in the diner.
The patrons didn’t seem too concerned about the bikers in the booth, even if a few people kept glancing their way.
I guessed it was curiosity more than fear.
I felt the heated gaze of someone watching me as I walked out, leaving Carson to pay.
I’d parked out front, a few spaces from the motorcycles gleaming in the hot Nevada sun.
Ten a.m., and it was already scorching hot.
I opened my car door, tossing my purse onto the passenger seat, followed by the punk band tee shirt I had worn over my tank top.
Keys in hand, I watched as Carson exited, tucked his glasses into the pocket with the pen, and placed his sunglasses over his eyes.
“See ya around,” I called out.
“I’ll be in touch.” He glared at the diner, and I turned, noticing the group of bikers watching us with interest.
Uh-oh. Maybe this wasn’t as discreet as we had hoped.
“Do they know who you are?”
“No clue. Get in your car and drive away, Callie. Now.”
Sighing, I planted my ass on the seat of my SUV, rolled down the windows, cranked the latest song by Motionless in White, and sped out of the parking lot.
No one followed me home, not even Carson, but I thought I caught an unmarked car outside the townhomes where I lived and a guy with a crewcut duck down before I entered through the gate, and I unlocked my back door.
For the rest of the night, I stayed indoors.
brEE NEVER RETURNED to work. After the night we found all that evidence, she disappeared.
Just like Sadie.
To say I was freaking out was an understatement.
I called Agent Phillips for advice, wondering if I should report Bree missing like I did with Sadie. He didn’t answer. For several days, I kept calling, finally leaving a couple of frantic messages. He never texted or returned my call.
This couldn’t be happening. First, my sister disappeared. Then Bree. Now, Carson ghosted me, or he was missing too. Terrified, I realized I was the only person in contact with all three of them.
Holy. Shit. Was I next?
Pacing my room, I chewed on a nail, jumping at every noise I heard outside. Should I leave? Find someplace to lay low for a bit? What if Sadie showed up and I wasn’t here?
No. I couldn’t take that chance.
My phone vibrated with an incoming message. I stared at it, relieved to see Bree’s name pop up. Finally.
I typed a quick response, asking if I could give her a call. I needed to hear Brianna’s voice to know she was okay.
She dialed my number first. I almost dropped my phone, swiping across the screen to answer.
“Oh my God, Bree! Are you okay? Why haven’t you contacted me? I’ve been worried sick!”
“It’s a long story. My phone got stolen.”
“Oh, shit!”
“I know, right?” She sounded tired.
“Tell me you’re not in the hospital or anything.”
“I’m fine.” She didn’t sound like it. I caught the way her voice nearly cracked. “Tell me you still have all that evidence we found.”
“Yes and no. I gave the files to Agent Phillips, but I also took pics and saved them on my phone. I downloaded everything onto my laptop as a backup.”
She seemed relieved. “Good. What did Agent Phillips say?”
I burst into tears, legit bawling into the phone. The stress about my sister and this case was too much. “He’s gone, Bree. He’s missing. I can’t get ahold of him.”
“Well, fuck,” she cussed, frustrated.
I felt the same way. “Exactly. I hope he’s okay.”
If the Dirty Death MC found him, he was dead or close to it. I didn’t want to think about him hurt or suffering. Maybe he had to ditch his phone in order to track down Sadie’s kidnappers.
“Listen, things have gotten a lot more complicated. We need to meet up soon. It’s too risky to talk over the phone.”
“Okay. Let’s do it. Text me the time and place. I’ll be there,” I promised.
“I’ll be in touch. Be careful.”
“I will. You too, Bree.”
I ended the call, tossing my phone down on my bed. My stomach churned as I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying not to panic. Just because I didn’t have all the answers didn’t mean everything was hopeless.
Carson would come through. He’d find my sister. I had to believe this would end soon. There wasn’t any other choice.