The first call is about a cat stuck in a tree; typical small town, waste-of-taxpayer-dollars bullshit. Next, someone called to report their neighbor for mowing their yard every day this week.
Jesus Christ, get a fucking life.
When the next recording begins, don’t ask me how, but I know the voice I hear is the one I’m searching for as soon as the first word leaves her mouth.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Hello, there’s been an accident. A man got thrown from his motorcycle.”
She sounds young. I can hear the panic in her shaky voice when she speaks.
Why are you so scared? Are you the reason Iron is fighting for his life?
“Where are you located?”
“State Road 468 west, at the exit for Blackrock Road.”
“Okay, I’ve alerted dispatch, and an ambulance is on its way. I’ll just need some information.”
“Ma’am?”
“Ma’am?”
Fuck. I was hoping to get a name.
“I want to know who this number belongs to,” I hand the paper over to Turner and point to the number of the girl who called at five twenty-three.
He takes the paper and starts to search on his computer. It takes longer than I would have liked for him to find the information, but once he does, I have my answer.
“Got her,” he announces.
“Who is she?” I demand.
“Sasha Cooper; age twenty-nine. I was able to find her through the county’s Department of Housing and Community Services database.”
“I need her address, a picture of her license, and her car’s registration information,” I tell him.
Another five minutes, and I’m walking out of the police station with the fucking smoking gun.
Sasha Cooper. Age twenty-nine. She drives a motherfucking 1989, light blue Plymouth Horizon.
I’m coming for you, Sasha. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I find you, but I promise you’re not ready for the punishment I’ll deliver.
Chapter Seven
Blade
I study Sasha Cooper’s small license photo as I walk to the space where I parked Glory, my bike. I can’t tell what color her eyes are, but they seem sad and tired.
Like my own.
I feel something stir in me as I study her face, and I don’t like it at all. I push all thoughts of it from my body as I pull out my cell phone and call Stone.
“Tell me something good,” he answers on the first ring.
“I got her,” I declare, and I read the information from the print out to him.
“A girl, huh?” Stone questions.
“Yeah, she lives in an apartment over on Flagstaff Road. I was thinking about paying her a visit to try and get some answers.”
“Yeah, do that. Send Cap the address, and I’ll tell him to meet you there.”
“Will do.”
I shoot a quick text to Cap, then tuck my phone into my chest pocket. I know exactly where her apartment is, and it’s not too far from here. I fold the paper and put it in the pocket of my jeans with the thumb drive. Mounting Glory, I flick the ignition switch and bring her to life. Clenching my jaw, I rev my engine and peel out of the parking lot, ready to confront the little girl who put Iron’s life in danger.
I could do any number of things to her as revenge for what she’s done. I go over each of them in my head on the drive to her apartment. I could threaten her, letting her know she’ll die if Iron dies. Maybe I’ll kill her anyway. I could take out a member of her family, running them off the road the way she did.
An eye for an eye.
The image of her flashes in my mind, mixing with the vibration of my bike, and my cock twitches.
Or I could spare her life, but make her mine to do with as I please. Take her prisoner and never let her go. Punish her every day by reminding her that her life belongs to me. Maybe I’ll keep her tied up in my room in the clubhouse. Tie her to a chair.
Or the bed...
I let my mind wander for a moment too long, picturing her laid out in an “X” on my mattress. I’m not shocked by the violence of my thoughts, but I am surprised at the idea that I’d want an Old Lady—.
Woah, hold on now. You said prisoner, not partner.
There’s never been a time in my life where I’ve wanted a woman by my side. I have my family. They’re my brothers, my comrades, and that’s all I’ve ever needed. I don’t have any issues getting laid either. Be it from a random or a Club whore; I get plenty of tail.
No, this little girl will pay for her sins, and that will be the end of it. No reason to keep her around any longer, whether or not she lives or dies.
I pull into the parking lot of her apartment. It’s not part of a large complex; it’s just a building with four ground floor units in it. Hers is the first one in the row. All of the windows are dark, and it appears empty. If she were home, I highly doubt she would be in bed at eight at night. While I wait for Cap to arrive, I walk around the building and peek inside her windows.
One of the best things about being a member of the Skull is no one will question me about what I’m doing. Either they’re too scared, or they know better than to ask. I hear the roar of Cap’s engine as I walk from the back of the apartment to the front, again. He turns his bike off and joins me at the front door.
I wiggle the doorknob, checking to see if it’s unlocked. It’s locked, but the door moves a little, so I know it can’t be too secure.
“Locked?” Cap asks.
“Yeah,” I say before slamming my shoulder against the door.
Both the wood and the brass lock protest, but the door doesn’t open. I try it one more time, putting some additional force behind the hit, and this time the door flies open.
The absence of a scream or any other commotion confirms that no one is in the apartment. Cap follows me inside and shuts the door as well as he can behind us. The moonlight shines through the window, illuminating part of the apartment, but I turn the lights on anyway. I want to be able to get a good look around.
I pull out my cell phone and shoot a message to Stone.
Me: Apartment empty. She may have fled.
Stone: I’ll call around to some of the other Clubs nearby. Have them keep an eye out for her and the car.
Me: Good.
“I’m going to check the bedrooms,” I inform Cap. “Take a good look around out here.”
“On it,” Cap confirms.
The first bedroom that I enter is a fucking pig-stye.
Please don’t let this be Sasha’s room.
Not that it matters, I just can’t picture her being such a slob. I leave this room alone for the time being and enter the room next to it.
I turn on the lights, thankful this room doesn’t look like a tornado hit it. It’s nearly empty, only housing a bed and a dresser. The dresser is clear except for a bottle of lotion and a picture frame. In it is a picture of Sasha with two guys.
A low growl vibrates in my chest at the sight of the boy with his arm around her. Looking more closely, I see that one of the guys is older than them, and my growl ceases.
What the fuck was that?
It looks like they may be her dad and, hopefully, a brother—possibly the slob in the next bedroom. I take the picture from the frame, fold it, and put it in my pocket with the rest of the information I have on her. Picking up the lotion bottle, I open the lid and get a whiff of the sweet fragrance.