Glancing down at my watch, I notice it’s almost midnight. Day ten of missing Elle has come and almost gone.

“Hey, Josh,” Liberty says. She slips onto the vacant stool beside me and smiles. “How have you been?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure? Because you look miserable.” She spins to face me on the barstool.

“Yep,” I say, before raising the bottle to my lips for a refreshing sip.

“I wanted to make sure things were okay between you and Elle.” She leans an elbow on the bar.

“Why wouldn’t they be?” I question, sending an annoyed glance her way.

“Well,” she pauses, long red nails tapping on the bar. “The last night we were all out at Tito’s, I kinda told Elle you and I were together for the past two months.” She says, chagrined.

“Why would you do that, Liberty?” I ask, angrily.

“I wanted her to break up with you and then you’d finally see me for who I am.”

“See you for your conniving ways?” I question.

She flushes, embarrassed at her actions. “No, I obviously don’t want you to think bad of me. Yes, what I did was wrong. That’s why I’m confessing it to you, now. I’ve been feeling guilty about what I did.”

“It’s good to know you have a conscience. Don’t ever fuck with my relationship again. My friends don’t do that shit.”

“Okay.” She slips from the stool and places her hand on my arm. “I’m really sorry, Josh,” she says before walking away.

My mind works overtime wondering if Liberty’s actions played into Elle breaking up with me. I’d like to think she knows me well enough to realize I’d never cheat on her, but she has baggage from a past relationship. I’m not sure of all the details yet, but I know it made her lack self confidence. Her lack of a relationship with her father doesn’t help. She’s always questioning whether she’s good enough for me.

I didn’t see our relationship playing out this way. When she came to Canvas looking for me, I imagined Elle coming to her senses. I thought we’d be together by now, but then she was gone without any explanation. Obviously, there’s more to the situation than she let on. After everything we went through to be a couple, she wouldn’t walk away for no reason - which is why I reached out to Jam, yesterday. If anyone can find out what’s really going on, it’s him. Being part of an outlaw biker club, he has connections who can help him with whatever he needs. And most importantly, I’ve no doubt, he’ll keep it close to the vest.

* * *

Staring down into my whiskey, the amber hue reminds me of the flecks in Elle’s eyes.

Fourteen fucking days. Fourteen days of missing Elle with no end in sight.

Shifting my weight on the stool, I grip the small glass and knock it back. Depositing it down on the bar, I slide it toward the bartender, signaling I’d like another.

“Don’t go drowning your sorrows now, little brother. It never does anyone, any good. Besides, you’ll never find the answers you’re looking for in the bottom of a glass.” He slaps me on the back and sits on the vacant stool next to me. “Trust me, the only thing you’ll find down there…,” he looks at my empty glass, upside down on the bar, “is more questions.” He quickly breaks into a shit eating grin. “Me, I’m different.” He snatches up the fresh glass of whiskey the bartender slid my way and downs it like it’s water. “Me, I’m an answers kinda guy.”

Now, he has my full attention. “You are?”

“You had doubts?” Jam throws his hand up and signals for another two drinks to be brought over. I can’t help but notice the bartender moves quicker for Jam’s slight hand motion than he has for anyone else all night. My brother tends to have that effect on people.

“What the fuck is going on then?” I question. I’m done drinking and wanting answers.

“Calm down, Joshy.” He shoots down his drink and orders another before turning back to me. “Does the name Scott Granger mean anything to you?”

Scott Granger. His name isn’t remotely familiar to me. Shaking my head, I reply, “no, nothing.”

“Elle’s father is, Henry Johnson.” He pauses, giving me time to recognize the name.

“Henry Johnson, the billionaire?” I question, surprise in my tone.

“The one and only. His business partner, Tom Granger, has a son, Scott, who is Elle’s ex-boyfriend.”

I can’t remember Elle ever having a boyfriend. She must have dated him before junior year of college when I met her.

“They haven’t been together since she was twenty. There are rumors he was abusive to her. I couldn’t find anything concrete on that, but I wouldn’t doubt it. He doesn’t have a good reputation when it comes to women or business.”

“She flinched once when I went to caress her face and I could tell she’d been hurt by someone before. That fucking piece of shit,” I growl, between clenched teeth as I fight off images of all the horrible things he could’ve done to her.

“Calm down. There’s more for you to hear.” His head turns in my direction. “Scott Granger is blackmailing Elle.”

“What?”

“You heard me. He’s forcing her to be his girlfriend.”

“She’s his girlfriend?” I question, raking a hand through my hair.

“He told her he’d ruin your reputation if she didn’t break up with you.”

“Motherfucker.”

“Yeah, he’s a piece of shit. He used your ties to the Bastards to scare her off - said you’d filtered money for the club through Canvas.”

“She should know, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sure she does, but she wouldn’t take the chance. This dude could fabricate evidence. He has the means to do it, Josh.”

“How did you find all this out?” I’m aware my brother has connections and ways of finding things out that the average person can’t comprehend, but I’m still curious how he obtained this information.

“Come on, Joshy. I have my ways. You didn’t really think I was going to answer did you?”

“No, but I want to make sure the information is accurate.”

Jam raises his brow. “Really? It’s fuckin’ insultin’ that you’re asking me this.”

“Jam, I meant no disrespect. I’m really worried about Elle.”

“Don’t worry, the info is solid. I’d bet my left nut on it.”

Nodding my head, I stare down into my glass and picture kicking Scott’s ass. “What should I do?”

“Not I. We.” Jam shoots his drink and slams the glass down on the bar so hard, I can’t believe it’s not in pieces all around us. “Let’s go.” He smirks.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m following behind my brother on his bike as we pull into a small marina just north of the city. We drive around to the back side, stopping in front of a garage. We park next to a black cargo van directly in front of the closed bay door.

Jam throttles down his bike, steps off and waves me over.

“What are we doing here?” I question, instantly aware of how dark and deserted this place looks.

“Relax.” He reaches into his back pocket and hands me a black neoprene mask. “Put this on.”

I look down at the mask and then back at my brother. “What the fuck is this?”

“Do what I say,” he barks at me. Knowing better than to argue with, or question my brother when he’s this serious. I do as I’m told.

Jam slips an identical mask over his light brown hair and folds it back, leaving his face exposed. I struggle to get the damn thing to fit right around my eyes when he unexpectedly grabs my head, slaps it and forcefully adjusts the mask into place. “Better?”

I nod in response, somehow embarrassed by a lack of skill at concealing my identity while standing in front of a rundown garage in the dark of night. Once again, I’m reminded my brother’s world is very different than mine.

Reaching out, Jam slaps his palm flat against the garage wall three times. Within seconds the heavy bay door is lifted from within and I instantly recognize the man standing on the opposite side as he says, “JD, this fucking kid’s a pain in the ass.” He shakes his head.

Billy Banes is like family to me. He’s one of my father’s oldest friends and he’s also one of the founding members of the Bastards. Most people call him Bad Billy or Billy Bang, but I’ve always known him as Uncle Billy.

“Hey Josh.” Uncle Billy addresses me, winks and then turns his attention back to speak with my brother again. “I’m telling ya, Frost is gonna snap his neck, if I don’t get right back.”

Jack Noonan is also a member of the Bastards. People call him Frost because of his nearly complete lack of emotion. Jack is a killer. I’m not sure how long I’ve known, or even how I know, but I do. His reputation is notorious. He’s a predator; pure and simple. Men like him are the reason I hate the life my family has chosen.

We trail Billy through the main bay into a hallway just outside the back office. We stop so they can refit the masks over their faces. Jam and Billy nod, then step through the door. I follow them, stopping dead in my tracks once I see who Scott Granger is. He’s someone I recently did a tattoo for and my blood boils when I think of what the letter E he had me permanently ink his body with, stands for. My only consolation is that he’s sitting here in the middle of the room and it’s not looking good for him. Frost is sitting in the dark, behind Scott, out of his field of vision. Scott is duct-taped around the arms, legs and torso, tightly secured to an office chair. He looks frightened and helpless, his face swollen and red.

Jam turns to Billy and cocks his head to the side. “You started without us?”

Billy shrugs his shoulders. “I may have slapped him once or twice.”

“I don’t know who you think you are but…” Scott tries to speak, but Jam cuts him off with a hard backhand across the face. The smacking sound alone is painful.

“Now, now, first you need to pay for what you’ve done. Then we talk about who thinks what.” Jam smiles as Scott winces from the pain of the fresh slap.

Jam and Billy turn to face me, while Frost never takes his eyes off Scott.

“First, he pays for what he’s done,” Jam speaks slowly and directly to me.

I feel the anger surge inside me. Before I even realize what’s happening, I’m standing over Scott, punching him in the face repeatedly, as images of all this piece of shit has done to Elle flash through my mind. I’m not sure how many times I hit him, or for how long, but by the time I stop my hands ache and are covered in his blood. I can barely open my fists.

Scott Granger’s face is bloody and battered. At some point his screams and cries turned into moaning with his chin buried deep into his chest. His breathing is labored and shallow. Three of his teeth are on the floor at my feet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck - what have I done?” I step back, mumbling to myself and try to focus. I’ve never been afraid to throw a few punches if a situation calls for it, but this is different.

The adrenaline dump hits me out of nowhere and I can’t stop my hands from shaking.

“Now, he needs to know why.” Jam steps over, letting me know I’m not finished.

Uncle Billy steps in front of Scott with a rusted, old mop bucket in his hands. He grins evilly and tosses what appears to be a full bucket of filthy water into Scott’s chest and face. “Wakey, wakey.”

Billy seems to be enjoying this a bit too much.

Scott coughs and hacks weakly for so long, I start to think the fit may end with him dead.

Billy laughs and slaps me on the back. “There he is.”

I see why people call him Bad Billy.

“Now, he needs to know why.” Jam repeats his last directive and nods at me. He’s right. Scott needs to know Elle is off limits from this moment forward. Without thinking, I reach back and peel off the mask covering my face. “Forget you ever knew Elle.”

Scott blinks repeatedly, trying to focus his eyes on my face before him. It doesn’t take long.

“Dawson?” He mumbles, glancing from me to the others. It only takes a moment for him to realize, the other men in the room are from the Bastards.

Before I can say anything else, Jam steps in. “And I’m damn sure you know who the fuck we are too.” Jam and Billy leave their masks on as he slowly nods his head twice.

Frost still sits motionless behind Scott, with no mask; the blank look on his face screams bad intentions.

Without warning, Billy walks out of the office, followed by Jam, who stops at the door and turns to face me. “Let’s go.”

I follow without hesitation.

“So, taking your mask off - that was one way to go, I guess.” He sounds amused.

“That’s what you meant for me to do, right?” I ask.

“Personally, I’d have gone with a detailed threat myself, but it worked for you.” I can still hear laughter in his tone.

“Now what happens?” I ask, my stomach unsettled from the events of this night.

“Now little brother, you use that sink in the garage to clean yourself up, you go home and figure out how to get Elle back.”

“And Scott?” I’m almost afraid to ask, but I need to know.

Jam looks hesitant to answer at first, but then shrugs it off. “While I’m thoroughly pleased and even a little impressed with the beating you dropped on our buddy in there; I’m afraid Scotty is gonna need a more permanent reminder of our expectations.”

“What does that even,” I begin to ask, but Jam interrupts. “Go home, little brother.”

I turn to leave as Jam and Billy head back inside the office. Through the open door, I see Frost finally move, stepping in close behind Scott.

He’s smiling.