Not ever.
“Goddamn it!” Streak bellows from upstairs and we all turn as he comes barreling down the steps with a laptop in both hands and rage painted across his face. “I’ve got nothing!”
He throws one of the laptops against the wall and it smashes into several pieces as a few photos float to the floor. It’s so quiet that the sound bounces off the walls, taunting us from all angles as he marches over to us. Tossing the other laptop onto the table, he spins it to face us as a video begins playing. The front door to the clubhouse opens and a man dressed in all black with a hood pulled up over his head steps inside, tucking something into his pocket.
“Who forgot to lock the fucking door?” Blaze asks and I glance over my shoulder as everyone shakes their head.
“It was locked, Blaze,” Henn assures him. “Checked it myself.”
We turn back to the video as the man sets a thick stack of the photos down on one of the tables and pulls out a can of something.
“Is that glue?” I hiss, my eyes widening as he pops the top open and paints the substance inside on the back of the first photo before slapping it on the wall. We all watch in horror as he continues down the line, blanketing our clubhouse in the photos and I clench my fists as fury twists through my body. The guy is completely average, just like every other descriptions we have for him and I shake my head as I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
“Please tell me you got his face,” Chance hisses, his shoulders tight and his face serious. Streak slams his fist into the table before blowing out a breath.
“No. Because three of my cameras were disabled before he ever even showed up and the others never caught an image of his face. Not once during the entire two hours he was pasting these fucking things on the walls.”
“How is that even possible?” Smith asks and Streak shakes his head and scrubs both of his hands over his hair.
“I don’t want to give the guy props but fuck, he’s good…”
My heart stops for a second and my stomach drops as we all look at each other with wide eyes and fear creeping into our gazes.
Fear for each other.
Fear for our families and fear for our club.
Holy fuck…
Who in the hell are we dealing with?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Piper
Leaning back in my chair, I stare down at the last text I sent Wyatt over an hour ago when I finished with my last client of the day that he still hasn’t replied to as my leg bounces incessantly and my stomach knots with worry. It’s not like him to not answer me. In fact, I would say that he is almost perfect in that regard because his responses are always so quick. If anything, I am the one that takes time to answer because I’m busy with a client or right in the middle of editing photos and I can’t help but jump to all of the worst case scenarios.
Maybe I should try calling him…
My finger hovers over the phone icon for a moment before I blow out a breath and shake my head. No, he’s okay and I’m just overreacting. Shaking my head, I put my phone back in my pocket, telling myself over and over again that he’s okay and I need to relax as I absentmindedly nibble on the donut I grabbed off of the snack table but I can’t taste it.
What if something happened to him?
What if he crashed his bike and he is lying in a ditch somewhere, injured, and I’m here at my stupid support group, eating a damn donut?
I look down at the offending pastry in my hand with disgust before getting up and trudging over to the garbage can in the corner of the room. Wyatt has been so supportive of my issues and he has been encouraging me to come back to meetings since I’ve been so wrapped up in us lately but on a night like tonight when I can’t get ahold of him, it feels like I shouldn’t be here. After tossing my food in the trash, I turn and drag myself back to my seat as I glance at the door. Maybe I should just go now, before Dr. Brewer starts the meeting so I can make sure he is okay. As I sink into my seat, still chewing over the possibility, Dr. Brewer stands up and claps her hands, commanding the attention of everyone else.
“Let’s get started, everyone.”
Glancing around, I look for Lillian but I can’t find her anywhere and I scowl.
I wonder if she is coming tonight.
She tends to skip more meetings than I do and I get the hint that there is a big part to her story she still doesn’t want to tell no matter how much Dr. Brewer pushes her. I can’t say that I blame her, though. Some things are just too painful to talk about and no one understands that more than me.
As everyone finds their seats, the door bursts open and Lillian runs into the room.
“Sorry, I’m late,” she says and Dr. Brewer nods. Lillian enters our little circle and sinks into the chair next to me as I flash her a smile. She releases a breath and sets her purse on the floor, her body slumping in her seat.
“Okay?”
She nods. “Yes. Traffic was awful, though. Something about an accident on the interstate.”
The haunted look in her eyes makes my heart ache for her and I shake my head but keep my mouth shut. Lillian is not as far along in her recovery as I am and she has a whole hell of a lot of walls up. I do know that three years ago, she and her fiancé were driving to dinner when something happened and he was killed. She always refers to it as an accident but the look on Dr. Brewer’s face every time she does tells me there is more to it. Once, she slipped up when we were out to dinner and said that when she closed her eyes at night, she could still see that man but as soon as the words came out of her mouth, she stopped talking and I didn’t want to press too hard. I know how fragile people can be and if she’s not ready to talk about it, I’m not going to force it from her.
“Okay, who would like to go…”
The door opens, cutting Dr. Brewer off and I glance over my shoulder as Tate walks into the room, looking apprehensive as hell. What the hell is she doing here? My mind spins, wondering if she is here because something happened to Wyatt but then I notice how nervous she looks and I flash her a kind smile. Her gaze meets mine and she sucks in a breath before confidently walking across the room and sinking into the open chair on my other side. Dr. Brewer smiles at her and Tate shifts in her seat.
“Hi. Would you like to introduce yourself?”
Tate shakes her head and Dr. Brewer nods in understanding. A lot of people like to sit through a few meetings before they feel comfortable enough to tell their own story and I was one of them. I came for an entire month before I even shared my name. As Dr. Brewer turns her attention to someone else, I nudge her arm.
“Hey.”
She smiles but I can see the apprehension in her eyes. “Hey, I hope this is okay. Fuzz told Lincoln about it and he thought it might help me.”
“Of course,” I tell her, nodding. Things between Wyatt and me have been going really well and he knows everything now so I have nothing to hide from him, not that I think Tate would spill my secrets. “You can talk to me sometime, too, if you’re not comfortable telling your deep dark secrets to the whole group.”
“Thank you,” she answers before chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t mean to be rude but Lincoln didn’t really know your story…”
“Piper,” Dr. Brewer says, cutting Tate off as we both glance up at her. “Maybe you’d like to share your story for our new members?”