I looked at it and then slung it back. He was right. I was spiraling when I needed to keep calm and think straight. I needed to put the pieces together and work out who was responsible for this mess.
“The guy Viper and Barney were talking to . . . I want to talk to him.”
“Already on it,” Bull said sitting across from the chapel table. “Viper is chasing it up as we speak.”
Grunt’s hand found my shoulder. “You’ve got the power of the club behind you, Cade. We’re going to get this asshole.”
I poured another bourbon and slung it back. But the alcohol didn’t calm me. The heat only fueled my slowly simmering rage. I gripped the empty shot glass. When I find who did this, they will die. Veins popped in my forearms and the shot glass shattered in my hand.
“Is everyone here?” Bull asked Grunt.
“Everyone except Cool Hand, Joker, and Elias,” he replied, handing me a cloth to wrap around my hand. I probably needed stitches, but there was no time. And my panic far outweighed any pain I should be feeling.
Bull looked at his watch. “Cool Hand is probably five inches into heaven with his new Swedish girlfriend by now. Keep trying his cell. The fool’s got to come sometime.”
Grunt nodded and flipped open his phone.
“Elias said he was visiting some out-of-town pussy last night. He left just after chapel and said he’d be back later this morning. And Joker . . . he could sleep through an atomic bomb. Send the prospect around to pick him up.”
Grunt grunted and disappeared.
I stared at the bloody cloth wrapped around my hand, panic tearing through me despite the two shots of bourbon. If Indy was hurt, or worse . . . I sucked in a deep, angry breath, my nostrils flaring as I forced the worst out of my head.
I wouldn’t think it.
I wouldn’t imagine a life without her because I would go insane.
I squeezed my bloody hand into a fist but felt nothing but the panic in my gut. I needed to speak to the informant who had told Viper and Barney about the lone biker who had bragged to him about the killings in Destiny
Bull’s phone buzzed. No caller ID. Normally he wouldn’t answer an unknown number, but in this instance he was ready to make an exception.
On the end of the line was the informant Viper and Barney had been talking to. Bull put him on speaker.
“Can you give me a name?” he asked.
“Ben. Beckett. Something like that. But it was probably some bullshit alias. This guy was a real tweaker.”
“Can you give us a description?”
“I can do one better than that. I can give you pictures.”
Apparently he had photos on his phone from the night he met the elusive biker.
“Send them to this number, right away.”
“Already on their way.”
Bull’s phone pinged.
For a moment he studied the image on the screen, but then threw his phone down in disgust. “It tells us nothing. Fucking nothing.”
I grabbed the phone off the table. The image was of a guy at a bar, grinning into the screen. The lighting was bad and Bull was right, it really showed us nothing. The guy in the picture may or may not have anything to do with any of this. We didn’t know who he was, or if or how he was involved. We didn’t even have a name.
I slid the phone across the table and sat down, shoving my head into my hands.
We were no closer to finding Indy.
Bull stood up and kicked a chair. “Fuck!”
But I didn’t flinch. Instead, I lifted my head with a sudden realization.
“It’s not him,” I said, calmly.
Bull swung back. “What do you mean?”
I stood up. This wasn’t about some tweaker up in Kansas. This was about revenge. Whoever was doing this wasn’t about to get drunk and admit his crimes to anyone, let alone run his mouth off in a bar that was frequented by a chapter of the Kings of Mayhem. He was too calculating for that.
And I had a feeling it had something to do with the girl who fell off the water tower all those years ago.
Talia Bennett.
“I need to get something from home. I’ll be back.”
Bull tried to stop me. “You shouldn’t be out there alone. I’ll come with you.”
“No.” I headed for the door. “I’m probably the safest person in the club right now. He has Indy, so the last person he wants to cross paths with is me.”
INDY
I had blacked out again. I’m not sure when, or why. But when I woke up, morning light slid into the room via the small window on the far wall. My body was stiff and my wrists stung from the bindings. I was also dying to pee.
I tried calling out, but my throat was so dry I barely made a sound. As if on cue, the door to the room opened and I felt the same familiar male presence as before. I braced myself, waiting for another attack.