Chapter 14
EMRIS
Before I can even turn the car on, my phone begins ringing in my pocket. I toss Brielle’s bag in the back seat before I grab my phone and glance down to see Archer’s name flash across the screen.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter, the door slamming shut as Carson gets in the car.
“Hey,” I answer, hoping I don’t get my ass chewed out right now.
“Killian filled me in on the Susie situation. I know you’ll get it figured out on your own, but I came across some info that might make it easier,” he says, no emotion in his voice.
“I’m listening.”
“The Red Riders—local MC chapter. Their Prez has been seen with Susie recently.”
Hope sparks for the first time in a while.
“I’m not sure how new the photos are, but it’s worth a shot. If he’s sleeping with her, he might be hiding her or at least know where she’s at.”
He’s right. I would’ve figured it out on my own.
I’m good at my job, but this whole situation has been a clusterfuck.
I don’t think it would be this complicated if Brielle wasn’t involved.
If she wasn’t in the mix, I would’ve had Susie in my possession and the answers we need.
I’d be moving on and helping Killian and Archer take down this fucking ring.
We would be one step closer, but here we are—fucking stuck.
“But…” There it is. I sigh and wait for him to continue. “We hacked his computer. Shit no one should be watching. Children, women, and everything in between.” He pauses and then drops the hammer. “We found a bid for a teenage girl.”
Red fills my vision. It blurs at the edges, rage roaring loud enough to drown out everything else. The only thing I need is to feel the life drain from him.
“Do you understand what I need you to do?”
“Send me the address,” I reply, ending the call without saying bye as I peel out of the driveway. Tossing my phone in the cup holder, it lights up only seconds later with a message.
Gesturing to the phone, I say, “Grab that and get directions to the address Archer sent.” Carson nods and gets to work.
He tells me which turns to take until we pull up to a small trailer park. Small, single-wide trailers line up in rows, only a handful of them, but enough to know that most of them are probably bikers as well.
I park across the road, a safe distance away so no one can see or hear the car. The only sound is the gravel under our boots as we make our way to the trailer.
Glancing down at my phone, I pull up the info Archer sent over.
Archer
The Red Riders Prez is Austin Williams, aka Smoker. 5322 W. Rock Ridge Rd., Trailer 5
I scan each trailer, searching for the barely legible trailer number, and find Smoker’s at the very end. A dim light glows through the window, probably from the stove. His bike parked outside is the only other sign someone is home.
As I pass his bike, I see two helmets dangling on the handlebars, proving there are two people here, and hopefully one of them is Susie.
I stomp up the weathered stairs, no need to be quiet since this motherfucker will be dead within the next twenty minutes, anyway. A man like Smoker won’t sit back and take it, but I look forward to that. I need that.
As if on cue, the front door swings open, revealing a scrubby, slightly overweight man.
“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” he asks, his body blocking the doorframe, but all I needed was one look to see a uniform from the bar bundled up on the ground, the logo in perfect view. It’s the same shirt Brielle was wearing when we took her.
“Oh, us? Just some friends.” I place my hands in my pockets. “Mind if we come in?” I ask, already knowing Carson has his gun on display, letting this fucking loser know we aren’t here to talk about his day while we sip piss-warm beer on his broken couch.
He looks between us for a long second as if contemplating letting us in, but to his better judgment, he turns and gestures us in.
The second I step through the doorway, the faint scent of weed hits me along with something else. Something fruity.
Carson closes the door behind him and leans back against it, not yet grabbing his gun but keeping his hand close. Smoker plops down on the couch, grabs a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table, and lights one up.
“So, what can I do for you two?” he asks, inhaling the smoke and spreading his arms on the back of the couch.
My eyes track the room, looking for more signs that Susie is here. Women’s shoes by the couch, perfume on the counter, and the uniform by the door tell me exactly what I need to know.
“Is it only you here, or is the wife home as well?” Leaning against the wall, I study him, but he only shrugs.
“Not married,” he states, not elaborating as to why there’s female stuff all over his sad excuse of a living room.
“So, I guess this peaches and cream body spray is yours, then?” I pick up the orange bottle and watch as his lips form a smirk.
“Nah, just someone I spend some time with now and again.” He brings the cigarette back up to his lips, inhaling deeply.
“Oh, well yeah, that makes more sense.” I nod before continuing, knowing this next part might get us somewhere.
“It smells kind of familiar, if I’m honest. There’s this older girl.
Huge fucking tits. Brown hair,” I say, waving the bottle around.
“Fuck, what was her name?” I mumble, snapping my fingers.
“Oh, Susie! The hot brunette that owns The Whiskey.” When I finish, my eyes move to watch Smoker’s reaction.
His fingers tighten around the arm of the couch, and his jaw tightens.
Just what I thought.
“She’s a real freak show.” I let out a whistle, and that’s his snapping point.
He leans forward, hands on his knees. “Watch what the fuck you say about her, or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out.”
I cock my head to the side, raising an eyebrow before asking, “Oh, you know her?”
“She’s my old lady, you fucking prick. Been mine for a few months now.”
I look over at Carson, and his eyes are toward the back, where the hallway leads to the rooms.
“Gotcha. So, you see, we’ve been looking for her. Let’s just say we have a mutual friend, and said friend has been trying to get ahold of her.” I tilt my head. “Hasn’t had any luck.” I lie, my posture relaxed.
He scowls. “Where my old lady is, is none of your goddamn business.”
“Figured you’d say that.” I nod. “But unfortunately for you both, I’m going to need you to tell me where she is.” I send him a smile as I take out the pink knife in my pocket and twirl the tip on my pointer finger.
Brielle’s knife. I’ve carried it every day since Carson gave it to me.
I tower over Smoker by a good few inches, my six-four frame making him look small, yet he laughs as if he has a chance.
He pushes up on his knees as if he’s about to get up from the couch, and I bring the knife up, aim, and let it fly.
The metal pierces into his shoulder, and he screams. Blood begins pouring down his torso, and he falls back onto the couch.
“What the fuck!” Smoker yells, and I can’t help but smile.
God, his screams are like music.
Carson pushes off the wall and takes a few steps toward the hallway, and the second he’s out of view, Smoker yells,
“Run, Susie!” He holds his hand to the bleeding wound on his shoulder, trying to get up again but only falls back down.
“Stay with him, Emris,” Carson shouts, running down the hall as the sound of glass shattering hits my ears. I put my faith in Carson to get Susie while I deal with Smoker.
“It’s fine, he’ll get her.” I give my full attention back to Smoker. “Now back to you.” I step closer, and the little bitch scoots back on the couch. “I heard from a little birdy you’re in the market for a teenager, am I right?” I pull my gun from my waistband, making sure the safety is off.
“It’s not like that, man! I swear!” he screams, his face getting paler by the second. “I promise!”
“You promise?” I ask him, and he nods. “Oh, shit. Okay, as long as you swear.” I shrug and go to put my gun away, wanting him to think I believe him. He relaxes a tad when he thinks he’s safe—that is, until he opens his mouth.
“I swear it’s not what it looks like. I just wanted to help Su—” He stops mid-sentence, knowing he’s said too much.
I raise my gun and aim at his head, and he does the one thing I love the most—he begs.
“No. No. No! Please! I’ll get the help I need! I swear!” He tries to plead, but I’m past listening. Nothing he says will change my mind, anyway.
“No one can help monsters like you, Austin. The only thing that helps men like you is the permanent kind—six feet under.” I close the distance between us and raise my gun.
“Luckily for you, I have somewhere else I need to be right now, or I’d make this a lot more painful.
” Without waiting for a response, I pull the trigger.
The bullet pierces him between the eyes.
His body slumps down, yet his eyes remain wide open.
Bending down, I grip the handle of my knife embedded in his shoulder and wipe the blood off on his shirt before pocketing it.
A cigarette dangles from his fingers, and I grab the bottle of vodka on the coffee table before dousing him in it. Grabbing the lighter that fell to the floor, I strike it and drop it on top of his lap. Within a matter of seconds, his body and the couch are covered in flames.
I whistle as I make my way to the door, ready to get this questioning shit with Susie over and move on. But the second I step outside, Carson’s standing there, defeat mixed with anger written all over his face. My jaw clenches as he says the one thing I didn’t want to hear.
“She’s gone.”