“Thank you, Travis. This is…” I look down at the necklace and attempt to swallow the lump in my throat. “You have no idea how much this means to me and I’m so sorry I didn’t get you anything.”
He brushes his thumb over my cheek and his eyes hold me captive once again. “Believe me, Rowan. You’ve already given me so much.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Travis
Running my hands through my hair, I blow out a breath before grabbing my beer off of the picnic table I’m sitting on and taking a sip as I watch the sun sink toward the horizon. I spent most of the day digging into anything Warren related I could think of but every lead I found only took me to another dead end, as usual, and now my head aches and I desperately want to put my fist through something… or someone. My chest feels tight as I shake my head and tell myself to calm down but it’s easier said than done when I have this asshole taunting me every minute of every day. I swear, it’s like I’m eighteen all over again, diving into a world I don’t really want to be a part of and hunting down a monster. The only difference is that this time, it doesn’t hit quite so close to home.
Fuck.
Ever since the day Warren followed the girls and Blaze through the mall, I’ve been single-minded in my determination to find him and end all of this. I spend my days with Rowan and then I stay up all night, searching even the deepest, darkest corners of the internet but none of it does me any good because he already planned for every move I would make. Somehow, he knows me and he knows how I think. He’s put every contingency in place to make sure I don’t figure out who he is before he completes his mission and rips this club apart. Scrubbing my hand down my face, I take another sip of my beer as I remember the way my heart stopped when Tate called Kodiak from the mall and told us what was going down. During the entire drive to them, all I could think about was the threats Warren had made against her and the images I’ve been fighting so hard to keep buried pushed their way into my mind in an instant. Thankfully, we got there in time but I’ll never fucking forget that feeling.
It’s been a week since the incident at the mall but I still hate letting Rowan out of my sight for long and I can’t even imagine how much of a goddamn nutcase I would be if she left the clubhouse without me. I can’t stop thinking about what could happen to her if I’m not there to protect her and it’s part of the reason I’m not sleeping much. Rowan has enough nightmares for the both of us and I don’t want to burden her with all of my shit. My jaw aches as I grit my teeth, thoughts of my darkness tainting her making my stomach turn. She is perfect, just as she is, and the only thing that brings me any kind of peace these days so I’ll do whatever it takes to preserve that, even if it means never sleeping again.
“You pouting?”
I glance over my shoulder as Storm walks out of the clubhouse with a beer in his hand and I shake my head, sliding down the picnic table to give him room to sit. “Nope. You?”
“Naw,” he answers, rolling his eyes. “I just had to get out of there. The girls are all taking photos of Mags in her new dresses.”
I laugh, taking a sip of my beer as I turn to watch the sunset again. I guess all the guys went a little crazy or got super bored leading up to Christmas and bought Storm’s daughter, Magnolia, a shit ton of frilly dresses and toys. In fact, all of the kids made out pretty well this year so they’ve definitely been more entertained for the last two days.
“I noticed Rowan sporting some new jewelry. You get that for her?”
I arch a brow as I turn to look at him. “You noticed that, huh?”
“No,” he scoffs, laughing before he takes another sip of beer. “Ali did and mentioned it to me and then Tate pointed it out to Kodiak when I was there.”
Shaking my head, I glance back at the clubhouse door. “I don’t know whether that woman is trying to help me or get me killed.”
“When it comes to Tate, it’s probably a good bet to just assume both. Plus, with pregnancy hormones, it could change every hour.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” I warn him and he shoots me a look that calls me a moron in eight different languages before shaking his head.
“Yeah, no shit,” he fires back before sighing. “How are things going with Warren?”
I scoff. “They’re not.”
“Blaze mentioned that you found something about that video,” he prompts and I nod, breaking down the whole deep fake thing for him just like I did for Blaze and he stares off into the distance, quiet for a moment before whispering a curse.
“So, I’m really fucked then?”
I shake my head. “Naw, man. I’m not giving up and I’ll find answers for you, okay? You can’t think like that.”
“I can’t seem to stop thinking like that,” he replies, scrubbing his jaw. “Ever since the raid, all of my thoughts revolve around what Ali and Mags are going to do when I get sent to prison.”
I clap my hand on his shoulder and he glances over at me. “None of us are going to let that happen, man. I don’t care what I have to do…”
“Appreciate it,” he murmurs, nodding, before he stares off into the distance again and silence falls over us. We sip our beers, both of us lost in our thoughts and I run through all the information I’ve looked up on deep fakes, trying to find a way to prove that the man in the video isn’t Storm but like I said to Blaze, whoever made it is really fucking good. I’ve even considered making a replica of the video using the real Storm to show the subtle differences I noticed but it’s a slippery slope and I don’t want to make the problem any worse.
Storm nudges me, pulling me out of my thoughts as he points to a big white van pulling up outside of the fence. “What the fuck is that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I tell him, cocking my head to the side as a well dressed woman steps out of the passenger side and fluffs her hair as she looks around. The side door opens and three men step out and one of them turns back to the van to pull out a giant camera as one of the others points to the clubhouse. “What the fuck?”
“What do you say we go see what’s going on?” Storm asks and I nod as we both stand up and set our beers down on the table.
“Sounds good.”
We start off across the parking lot and when they notice us walking over to them, they all start rushing around to set up the camera and start rolling, The woman pastes a professional smile on her face that looks as fake as her tits before bringing a microphone to her mouth as the cameraman points to her. She launches into her intro and Storm nudges me with his shoulder.
“Be charming.”
I scoff. “I’m always charming.”
“Then be extra charming today,” he growls under his breath as we reach the fence and we overhear snippets of her report. She’s here to investigate the video of Storm and why the club wants to hurt the city of Baton Rouge and my stomach drops.
“Can we help you?” Storm calls when we reach the fence and she ushers the cameraman to follow her as she struts over to us and flashes us that smile. It’s honestly a little terrifying.
“I’m Christina Hill with Channel Eight news and I’m here to investigate the video that was posted to the internet two weeks ago. You’re Logan Chambers, aren’t you?”