Chapter 67
We haven’t heard from the Mestizos since the break-in at Camryn’s art gallery three days ago.
Seventy-two hours of silence makes me itchy.
There were no shipments. There are no reports of any movement beyond their territory in the boroughs of New York.
The break-in and hit on the club are making me twitch.
I told Riggs he could head back to the clubhouse to help with the repairs that we’ve done.
Hadrian showed up in a rage that his club had been hit, but it didn’t sit well with either of us, who hadn’t been there during the attack.
It felt suspicious that he was conveniently away.
I left Riggs to deal with him. Onyx was also on his way from the temporary clubhouse.
Riggs had already left and was right behind me.
It had taken three to organize the funerals for all the men.
But we had enough funds to pay off the medical examiner and get the two men ready for burial.
They were older men with no family save the club.
Now I can focus on ensuring Camryn’s safety. I checked in with Scout, and Camryn hasn’t left her friend’s high-rise apartment today. The only movement was when she walked out of the apartment, picked up coffee, and headed back inside.
A car pulls up next to my bike, and out steps the same man who tried to ask Camryn out. Skater boy. My hackles raise seeing him.
“You’re, Stone, right?”
I tilt my chin.
“You’re with Camryn right?”
She’s mine, I say in my mind, but don’t answer him.
“I was just wondering if you’ve seen her? My sister picked her up this morning. That’s her van,” he points out, and the sick feeling in my stomach gets stronger.
“What do you mean ‘picked’ her up?” I bark.
He rears back, not expecting my burst of anger.
“She went to see Camryn this morning at her friend’s house.
They took my sister’s van to help transport the rest of her art, but that was hours ago, and I’ve been calling her phone, and the front door to the gallery is locked.
I’ve called Camryn, but her phone is off as well. ”
I head to the door. It’s locked, but the men I hired had her code copied and sent to me.
I type it in, and the door beeps, opening.
I walk inside and see nothing out of place.
The front desk is empty, and I spot Camryn’s bag.
It’s not the one she usually wears. Smart girl.
She didn’t want me knowing where she was.
Her car is also back at the high-rise, which is why Scout didn’t realize she left.
Her phone is also there. Two more purses are also on the counter.
They must belong to her friend. The third one is a mystery.
Fuck. I run through the open space until I get to the stairs that lead up to her apartment.
I open the door with my key. I knew she hadn’t been there since that night, but I wanted to check anyway.
It’s empty too, with the stale air. She hasn’t been here either.
I head back downstairs to see the man, Julian, holding one of the phones and a purse. “Something is wrong. Jacinda would never leave her phone or her purse. She’s diabetic.”
Walking through the gallery, I head to the back area, and the smell of liquor hits me first. I look down and see the green bottle and the puddle of champagne, but that’s not what makes my blood run cold. A note is attached to the inside of the door.
“She’s ours now. And we’ll take the other two as a bonus.”
There is a bloody shape on the paper at the bottom. Circular. I recognize it well. Los Mestizos. The blood is still fresh. I feel sick because I have a feeling it’s hers.