21. Quake
QUAKE
I've always hated waiting.
Give me a fight, a problem, or a challenge, and I'll handle it. Give me a direction, and I'll move. Give me a target, and I'll find a way to hit it.
Waiting is different. Waiting means somebody else controls the outcome. It means Melissa is out there with Carrie while we're stuck chasing scraps of information and praying we're not already too late.
Romeo's discovery of the burner phone injected new life into the search almost immediately.
By one in the morning, the clubhouse looks less like the headquarters of a motorcycle club and more like a command center.
Laptops cover every available surface, mapping software glows across multiple monitors, and club whores move in and out, carrying coffee, food, and whatever else is needed.
Nobody is sleeping. Not that they could even if they tried.
Even Mellie, pregnant and exhausted, is sitting up with Whitney so she isn’t alone while I focus on finding Carrie and Melissa.
I stand behind Romeo's chair, watching lines of data scroll across his screen.
"What've you got?"
My brother rubs both hands over his face before leaning closer to the monitor. "Carrie's smarter than Keith."
That doesn't surprise me. Keith is a predator. Carrie is organized. There's a difference.
"How much smarter?"
"The phone was only active for seven minutes."
My jaw tightens. "That's not much."
"No, but it only takes one mistake."
Romeo isn’t our secretary because he likes to take notes.
No, he’s earned that title because he doesn’t miss a fucking thing.
He can’t, not with his eidetic memory. Add in his tech skills, and he’s not only invaluable, he’s irreplaceable.
We’re fucked if anything ever happens to him, and we all know it.
The man built an entire reputation around finding mistakes. People lie, hide, and cover their tracks, but eventually they screw up. The question isn't whether Carrie made a mistake. It's whether we'll find it before she disappears with Melissa forever.
A chill runs through me at the thought, but I shove it aside immediately.
Not happening, not on my watch.
A chair scrapes across the floor. I turn to find Lyric approaching.
He looks as tired as the rest of us, maybe more.
Melissa isn't just Whitney's kid or Sacred Haven's kid anymore.
Somewhere along the way, she became ours.
The transition happened so gradually I don't think anyone noticed.
One day she was a frightened little girl hiding behind Whitney.
The next, she was a Kings of Anarchy princess.
"What've we got?" Lyric asks.
Romeo points at the screen. "Burner pinged near Spokane six hours ago."
My pulse jumps. That's the first useful thing I’ve heard since he found the burner phone.
"Near Spokane isn't a location."
"No," Romeo agrees. "But it's a direction."
I stare at the map. Hundreds of possibilities still exist, but for the first time since the kidnapping, we're no longer blind. Right now, that's enough.
It has to be.
The front doors open, drawing every eye in the room as Whitney steps inside. I was so engrossed in the chaos of the common room turned war room that I hadn’t even noticed she went outside.
The sight of her makes my chest tighten. She's exhausted, her eyes red from crying, fear written plainly across her face. Yet somehow, she's still standing, still moving, still fighting. Most people would've fallen apart by now.
Whitney spots me immediately and crosses the room. Without thinking, I meet her halfway.
"Any news?" she asks. The hope in her voice hurts because I don't have nearly enough to give her.
"We've got a location."
Her eyes widen. "Melissa?"
"Maybe."
Disappointment flickers across her face, but determination replaces it almost immediately. "What can I do?"
The question doesn't surprise me. It's exactly who she is.
I glance toward Romeo as an idea starts forming.
"Actually, there might be something."
Fifteen minutes later, Whitney is seated at a table covered with photographs while Stella sprawls at her feet.
Mellie retired to the quarters she shares with Lyric, at his insistence, of course.
Romeo has pulled images from Carrie's apartment, social media, financial records, and every backup he could uncover.
Individually, none of them look important.
Together, they're beginning to tell a story.
Whitney sorts through them carefully until one photograph makes her stop and call my name.
"What is it?" I ask, joining her.
She lifts the picture. It's a cabin surrounded by trees. Nothing remarkable, but Whitney’s expression tells me that it’s triggered a memory.
Romeo swivels toward her. "You know it?"
"I think so." She sets the photograph down. "Carrie showed me this once."
"When?" I ask.
Whitney closes her eyes, searching her memory. "Months ago."
"What did she say?" Lyric asks, having left his post across the room to join us.
Several seconds pass before Whitney looks up. "She was talking about taking a vacation, wanting to disappear for a while and relax. She pulled this picture up on her phone and showed me, said if she could go anywhere, she’d go there."
Suddenly the air feels charged with possibility, with hope, with… danger.
Romeo grabs his laptop. “Give me the picture,” he tells her, and she hands it to him. Within moments he's searching, comparing, and cross-referencing. The wait feels endless, but then he leans back and smiles. "I found it."
Every muscle in my body tightens. "Where?"
He points at the screen where a little red circle blinks. “There.”
The property sits several hours away on a remote patch of private land. It appears to be off-grid, isolated, the exact kind of place someone would choose if they wanted to disappear.
Or hide a child.
I look at Lyric, and I know by the determination in his expression that we're thinking the same thing.
This is it, the best shot we’ve got to get Melissa back.
Whitney is on her feet so quickly that Stella startles awake. "I want to go."
"No,” I snap.
Her gaze snaps to mine. "No?"
"Absolutely not."
The look she gives me could melt concrete. "Quake."
"No."
"It’s Melissa."
As if I need reminding.
For too many hours I've imagined every possible thing that could be happening to her, and none of those possibilities were good.
"I know."
"Then I'm going." Emotion thickens her voice. "She needs me."
The words hit harder than they should because she's right. Not about going, but about Melissa. Somewhere along the way, Melissa became hers. Not legally. Not yet. But emotionally, completely.
Just as the both became mine.
The same realization seems to strike Lyric at the exact same time. He studies Whitney for several moments before sighing. "I'm guessing telling you no would be pointless,” he comments.
"Completely."
Lyric and I exchange a look, trying to delay the inevitable. Time runs out.
"Fine," he groans. "But you stay behind us."
Whitney's expression immediately suggests she has no intention of doing that.
"Whitney."
"I'll try."
Beside me, Zombie laughs. "Well, we're doomed."
Normally I'd argue, but not tonight. Because for the first time since Carrie took Melissa, hope outweighs fear. Not by much, but enough.
Nobody, absolutely nobody, fucks with the Kings and gets away with it.