Chapter Nineteen
Instead of following the crowd to explain why Rebel briefly knocked Harley the fuck out, Ryan rushed upstairs to the second floor of the Caldwell mansion.
Destination: Rebel’s room. He had the camera in his jacket pocket as well as an interceptor that would interrupt firewalls, wiretaps, and other devices to breach security.
He’d programmed his camera and interceptor to work on the same signal and bypassed the interruption capabilities in the software by adding it as ‘safe’.
So far, the club performed a system sweep for outside technology once per quarter. Or if the need arose whenever new motherfuckers started hanging around. Strange girls, too. The chapters were expected to do the same. Every six months, Stretch did his own checks .
All of it was time-consuming, requiring not only forensic searches of the technology, but sweeps of the entire club, their houses, and all club-owned businesses.
Pops performed that task. Ryan remembered how proud his father was whenever he used to explain shit and boast that Ryan would inherit that job, too.
Once, he might have been excited. He barely remembered, though he did recall the growing resentment he’d felt whenever he saw CJ with Harley, usually tagged by Rory.
By his twelfth birthday, Ryan felt invisible.
Val expected him to be his mini-me; Harley glued herself to CJ’s side; Devon preferred Mom’s company; Rebel and Rule were lost in the special orbit reserved for twins; Mattie hung on every word of Uncle Stretch and Pops discussing technology; and Rory worshipped CJ.
Ryan sought ways to get under CJ’s skin and draw him into fights. The motherfucker seemed so happy-go-lucky and lame, especially his want to mimic Outlaw.
One day, they were at the club and Ryan sought to show CJ who was boss.
When the motherfucker went for a piss, Ryan confronted Rory and Harley.
He shoved her to the ground and gut-punched Rory.
Until then, it was one of the few times Ryan saw Harley cry.
Diesel walked into the clubhouse and asked what was going on.
It was the first 4 th of July where they’d paid homage to Meggie’s old man at the annual picnic in the backyard.
CJ went into the clubhouse for the bathroom, and Harley and Rory accompanied him.
Ryan followed to be a fuckhead. Diesel came to check in on them and was the first indication dude was a psycho.
Instead of chastising Ryan—or telling on him as he feared—Diesel arranged a fight-club style match between CJ and Ryan.
The next afternoon, the fight happened in one of the forest clearings.
Torrin, already a member for two years and one of Diesel’s best friends, was there.
Narci was a week away from his patching in ceremony.
Bishop had somehow fallen in with them—seventeen and a juvenile delinquent.
CJ, Harley, and Rory arrived after Ryan. He saw CJ as a skinny, arrogant motherfucker.
“Remember what I’ve been teaching you,” Diesel had said to CJ.
The words should’ve clued Ryan in. But nope. He’d expected to humiliate CJ. He definitely hadn’t expected CJ to win. Discovering Diesel wanted to bet fifty thousand dollars against Ryan humiliated him tenfold. Luckily, the guys could only put up a hundred bucks.
To this day, no one had ever snitched. The true reason for tonight’s confrontation would never be discovered.
A noise broke into his revelry. He stood at the top of the second floor landing, lost in thought. Cursing, Ryan hurried down the hallway. He approached Rebel’s door, aware of the location because his mother had talked about how beautiful the bedroom was, nonstop, for fucking days.
It even prompted Val to ask, “What, Puff? You want a different type of bedroom now? The style wouldn’t go with our log cabin, by the way.”
She’d claimed she was happy with what they had, but she sure didn’t sound like it.
Opening Rebel’s door carefully, Ryan slipped in, the flashlight already beaming from his phone. He needed the overhead light. Hopefully, everyone remained downstairs in an uproar because Harley was stupid and Rebel was a fucking boxer.
What the fuck had Harley expected him to say? Fuck, what had she expected CJ to say? She just wouldn’t fucking learn. If she behaved, maybe CJ would forgive her. But just the name ‘Molly’ triggered her.
Girls .
Fuck, women .
Ryan hadn’t expected Kendall’s reaction, but Willard insisted Ryan needed to find out about Logan’s awesomeness and why he’d see sticking his cock in Harley as such a disgrace.
Bash flip-flopped on Logan, depending on if he was high.
Val shut Ryan down about any questions. Willard was just a fucking fan.
Ryan wanted to know how his great-grandfather could’ve looked at Harley, a girl as gorgeous as Mom or Molly, and considered her lesser just because she didn’t look like him.
Ryan hated that not only had Harley touched something in him, but she’d thrown him over the minute CJ paid attention to her at school. Again, what had she expected him to say?
Another shocking turn was his softening toward CJ. His entire family. He still loved needling him. And, yes, they all still annoyed the fuck out of him, but nowadays, when he called them cucks and beta boys, he didn’t have the same derision.
He felt as if he had a voice. He felt as if his mother loved him.
The memory of Mom begging for his life still resonated deep in his soul.
Rory’s claim that Meggie released the Triplets from their punishment because of him was debatable.
Maybe, one day, Ryan would ask her. Lie or not, that softened him, too.
CJ’s firm stance on Harley also made Ryan see him in a new light. He felt a modicum of respect toward his cousin. Not only because of that, but because of Molly, too. If their roles were reversed, Ryan would want blood as well.
He probably owed Kendall an apology for calling her a bitch and a thot, but why should he respect her when Uncle Johnnie didn’t ?
Tonight capped off days of fuckery. Dementor and those other jackasses fucking with their lives got a clue and deleted Meggie’s photo.
Once, he might’ve enjoyed the disrespect of it all.
That began to change with Mom facing Outlaw in the clubhouse and solidified at his terrifying coldness toward Torie.
Outlaw would never geld Ryan and feed his cock to ravens.
Pounder remained on his suicide mission.
For what reason, Ryan couldn’t understand.
He liked Pounder. He’d make a much better Dweller than he was a Scorpion.
The Dwellers didn’t hurt girls. If Outlaw knew the truth—minus fucking with Meggie—he’d find a way to bring him into the Dwellers.
Johnnie was too fucking bloated with his own self-importance to understand diplomacy, logistics, dealmaking, or, fuck, finessing .
He’d warned Bash, Johnnie and Pounder not to fuck with Meggie. He suggested to Bash and Pounder better targets: Rebel and Mattie. Fuck, if they were fucking with Harley, why not the other two?
Whether this order came from Bash, Ryan didn’t know. He wouldn’t cry at their fucking funerals though. For himself, he already had a contingency plan.
Creeping forward in Rebel’s room, he flipped on the light and ignored the luxury. Fuck. He should’ve brought more than one camera to plant. She had a fucking suite.
Goddamn. He thought CJ’s room was big compared to his. Rebel’s must have been half the size of the entire log cabin.
For whatever reason, he wasn’t mad at her. Not the way CJ’s room had once pissed him off.
He’d plant the first camera across the room, closer to her bed. Or should it be her bathroom? Or her walk-in closet?
If he had time, he’d ask Willard which he’d prefer. Since he didn’t have the time, Ryan had to decide .
The sex tape between Ryan and Harley got him a short video of Molly.
She was tied to a bed and drugged up. She’d lost so much fucking weight that it broke his fucking heart.
Before the evening ended, he intended to seek out Johnnie again.
If he had to, he’d get down on his hands and knees and beg him to get Molly back.
If Ryan had to give her up to CJ, he didn’t care. He just wanted her safe.
Studying Rebel’s bed and nightstands, Ryan saw nowhere he could place the camera without detection. Besides, if Ryan placed the camera on the side of her bed, how much of her pussy could Willard see?
Fuck, first he’d place the interceptor.
Just as the thought crossed his mind and he pulled it out of his pocket, a hand landed on his shoulder.
Fuck, fuck, and fuck.
He expected Rebel’s fist to greet him, instead of the burning intensity of Rule’s gaze.
“What are you doing here?” he spat. “Did she invite you in to fuck you?”
“What? No! That’s my cousin. Are you fucking insane?” Fuck, yes. Yes, he was. “That wasn’t a trick question, so never mind.”
Rule narrowed his eyes, and Ryan laughed nervously. Sweat popped off his brow.
“Why are you in here?” Rule glanced at Ryan, zeroing in on the hand holding the interceptor. “You’re bugging her room?”
“It isn’t what you think,” Ryan said faintly. “I-I can explain.”
“Why do you want to do it?”
He couldn’t admit the real reason. That would prove he had a role in Molly’s disappearance, so he thought quick. Rule was a freak. He’d just have to let his freak flag fly, too. His kissing cousin freak flag .
“I’m busted.” More nervous laughter escaped him. That wasn’t fake. He was about to shit his pants. He just tried to spin it as embarrassment instead of cold terror. “I…she’s fucking gorgeous.”
No cap. Rebel was exquisite.
“I wanted to see her without clothes.”
“You wanted to see if she plays with her pussy,” Rule breathed.
“Er, y-y-yeah.” Ryan scratched his chin. Nodded. Swallowed. Nodded again. “Uh huh. Exactly.”
“We’re building a case against her.” Grinning, Rule pointed up. “I’ll help you with the cameras if you send copies of the videos to me.”