I deflate as I nod my head and Kodiak murmurs his agreement as Blaze turns to me.
“Listen, Fuzz… unless you can show me some new evidence, I’m inclined to side with Kodiak…”
“Hell, no,” I say, cutting him off. “I know I’m right about this.”
“And what proof do you have?”
“Since this club turned things around eight years ago, we’ve lost five girls total and three of those girls have been in the last two years and the other two, we know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, were killed by their exes. Also, all three of the girls who were killed in the last couple of years had our card with them when they died.”
“Of course they had our card, we helped all of them,” Kodiak mutters.
“But they all had them when they died. Are you gonna tell me they just carried our card around all the time with them?”
He nods. “It’s fucking possible.”
“For the sake of argument here,” Streak says, leaning back in his chair. “Why would they need the card? Wouldn’t they have put the numbers in their phone?”
“Exactly and what about Sammy? Our card was laying on top of her body when they found her.”
“Not to mention, Biche couldn’t have done it,” Henn adds and I nod. Holy shit, are they actually saying I might be onto something? Finally?
“I’ll admit that Sammy’s case is weird but it’s also entirely possible that it was a fluke. Dina was murdered by her ex, Mitch. Rodriguez locked up the wrong guy and Laney was killed by the guy who was really stalking her and Sammy could have just been random.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “And this random killer found our card and decided to place it on top of her dead body?”
“Maybe.”
“Jesus Christ,” I growl, shaking my head. “Why can’t you open your damn eyes and see what’s right in front of you?”
“If there was something to see, I’d see it but there isn’t.”
“And what if I’m right and the next time someone gets hurt, it’s one of your old ladies? Or your sister? Or someone’s mom?”
“I fucking told you not to talk about my wife and maybe if you stopped obsessing over this shit, you’d finally be able to find a woman willing to put up with you.” His comment stings more than I’d like to admit but I push it down. It’s not important right now. He shoves his chair away from the table like he’s going to storm out but Blaze holds his hand up to stop him.
“Enough!” he bellows and the room is painfully silent as he shakes his head in disappointment. “Fuzz, there isn’t enough evidence to move on this yet and I can’t spare anymore people to look into it right now but if you want to keep investigating, you can.”
I scoff as I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my seat. As if he could stop me from digging into this more. I know I’m right and I won’t stop until I find the truth.
“And the two of you,” he says, motioning between Kodiak and me. “Need to sort this shit out now. If Fuzz is right and there is more to these cases than we can see, we cannot be divided. Is that understood?”
I nod. “Yeah, boss.”
“Fine,” Kodiak growls, sparing a glance in my direction. Blaze rolls his eyes before turning to look around the table at the rest of the guys.
“If there’s nothing else…”
When no one says anything, he nods and slams the gavel on the table to dismiss us. I grab my beer off the table and follow everyone else out of the room before going back to the table with the files on it and sinking into the chair.
“Holy shit!” Chance yells from the bar, a wide smile on his face as he slaps Smith on the shoulder. I arch a brow as he turns to the rest of us and holds up his beer. “Quinn’s knocked up!”
The room explodes with cheers and shouts of congratulations as they all drift toward Chance and Smith to give him the old “atta boy” shoulder pat. I force a smile to my face before lifting my bottle of beer to my lips and draining half of it, my stomach churning. I don’t mean to be an asshole and I certainly don’t want to be but each time one of my brothers falls in love and starts his own family, I can’t help but think of all the plans I had for my life that haven’t come to fruition. I’m happy for all of them, especially Smith and his wife, Quinn, after everything they went through but it still doesn’t stop the onslaught of memories of pain that I usually keep under lock and key.
Shaking my head, I try to force my mind to turn off as I finish off my beer and set the bottle on the table. Cleo holds up another bottle in question from behind the bar and I shake my head. In the mood I’m in, if I keep drinking, I’ll end up too drunk to drive home and I can’t stay here tonight with the celebration that is sure to follow an announcement like that. Sparing a glance at the group, I gather up my files and slip away from the bar without anyone noticing before stepping outside. It’s still muggy as hell even though the sun went down hours ago and I sigh as I slip the files into my saddlebag, looking forward to the ride home. Maybe it’s just what I need to clear my mind.
After climbing on the bike, I back it out of the parking spot and turn the key, my heart kicking in my chest as the engine rumbles to life. God, I love that sound. After I got back from my first deployment, I needed something to take my mind off of all the shit in my life and jumping on the back of a bike gave me the peace and quiet I so desperately craved. The roar of the motor drowned out the sounds of war and the vibrations of the bike beneath me distracted me from the hollow, persistent ache in my chest. Just thinking of that time in my life brings back awful memories and I try to clear them as I peel out of the parking lot. For a solid two years, I was a miserable, cranky bastard and even now, ten years later, it still kills me to think about that time and my traitorous bitch of a wife. I guess I assumed that, in time, the throbbing ache in my chest would disperse and if I’m thoroughly distracted, it’s easier to ignore but it never really goes away.
I try to relax as downtown Baton Rouge blurs past me, fighting back memories both good and bad. Thinking back to the last time I saw her, the day I deployed, that damn ache returns and I rev the bike’s engine like maybe if I go fast enough, I’ll finally be able to outrun it. Man, how fucking pathetic am I? Piper threw away everything we had and everything we could have built together and here I am, still thinking about her when it’s clear, she doesn’t give a damn about me or the plans we made. And they were grand fucking plans, too - a cute little house, some kids running around in the backyard with the dogs and my woman by my side until the end. Thing is… I still want all that. Not with Piper, of course. She can rot in hell for what she did to me but the wife, the kids, the house, and the dogs… I’ve never given up on that dream and hearing Smith’s news tonight just reminded me how badly I want it.
Pulling my bike into my parking spot in front of my building and climbing off, I run through my options as I grab my files out of the saddlebag and turn toward my door. I’ve spent years working my ass off to avoid thinking about Piper and what she did to me and it’s left me without options. I mean, occasionally I’ll hook up with Cleo when the need gets to be too much but it’s never been anything more than mindless fucking and I can’t see that woman being the mother of my children. So, what else is there? I could go out to a bar and try to pick someone up but the odds of finding someone that is looking for the same things I am seems unlikely at best. Sighing, I unlock my door and slip into my place before dropping the files onto the table with a thump and flipping the light on.