Race

 

There were a hundred other things I wanted to say the moment she told me she was having my baby. “Go” was not one of them.

 

I could bang my head up against the damn wall forever, and the sight of her face dropping with that one command would haunt me for the rest of my life. It should have been, “Go on. Tell me about what is worrying you so we could make it work.” It could have been, “Going on like that is going to make you sick. Let’s figure this out together.”

 

It might have been anything else but dismissing her and our baby out of my life like that.

 

It’s easy to take for granted the simple parts of your life. Her making me breakfast, her being there for me when I get back from a late shift, her singing as she moved through the apartment, her warm body leaning against mine as we sleep, her smell after she takes a shower, her long hair swimming in the drain, her...

 

Just this morning, before I left for my ride, this house was full of her. Now it’s as empty as the day I moved in. The stuff she has left behind seems like a placeholder for the person that occupied this space. Their tokens of what I had and what I could still be having if I hadn’t told her to leave.

 

The first night without her, she was still in my head. Seeing her bag gone and not hearing from her for the whole night was admittedly a bit of a relief. I stomped around the apartment like a maniacal bull, kicking the shit out of the trashcan and only just barely holding myself back from putting a hole in the wall with my fist.

 

The only thing I managed not to touch was the picture of our baby she left behind on the table. But even that image seemed more like a taunt than some kind of memento she wanted me to have, some knickknack for me to cherish. I took it as a way for her to toy with me or fuck with my mind. And I was not about to let that fucking bitch get the best of me.

 

On the second day, I came home to a silence that seemed louder than it should have. After a night of drinking and raging, I had calmed down enough to see what she had left behind. I began going through her things, but it brought more pain than I had intended.

 

A tiny tank top stuffed in a drawer instantly reminded me of the night she sat on my lap, laughing with her head thrown back as she expertly knocked back a shot of whatever concoction one of the guys had made up. I twisted the straps around my fingers just as I had later that night – when she had shrieked in excitement for what was about to come next.

 

By the third night, I could swear her scent had vanished. She had taken most of the pastel pink bottles that sat out on the sink and shower. And her perfumey smell had faded from the pillowcase she laid on each night. I checked my phone every hour that evening. It laid beside me as I slept– waking me with every ping that wasn’t her. By the fourth message from some brother looking for advice on a route, I threw the damn thing against the wall, listening to it shatter with a grunt.

 

I had one of the lackeys pick me up a new one first thing this morning. The poor kid had to listen to me rant and rave about how fucking easy it was to break the damn things. He then shook as I ordered him to get the phone store employees to transfer all of my contacts and past messages in case she had reached out to me in the few hours between me breaking and repairing it. He hurried off in terror and came back triumphantly. But there was still nothing– only a message from a brother, Seb.

 

The kid has never reached out to me before, especially not after the night I caught his ass eavesdropping with Del. The only thing I know about him is that he’s a fairly good rider and he’s got a claim on the girl Ariel.

 

Now, Ariel I’ve seen a lot of. She was Del’s only companion when I kept her under lock and key. I figured that if they were following Ariel too, she was probably no harm. That was a mistake. The girl’s high-pitched squeal seemed to sear itself into my eardrums, and her constantly present face was as unwelcome and uninviting as a batch of lice in your boxers…

 

Suspicious, I pull up the message from Seb. My eyes dart over the line and then back to make sure I’m reading it right. It’s pretty innocuous– just two sentences:

 

Have you seen or heard from Delilah? Ariel hasn’t heard from her since she took her to the doctor a few days ago.

 

Shit. It’s like the fucking rug’s been pulled out from underneath me. This whole time, I had suspected that Del would go straight to Ariel. She’d lay low with her for a few days, and I’d have my guys stand guard to make sure no one was going to mess with her. In fact, all the reports I’ve gotten from those I’ve sent out to Ariel’s house has been all-clear. I took it as a sign that she was as angry I was the first few days. She was quietly stewing and plotting, waiting for me to drop my pride and ask her to come back.

 

But fuck. This was a whole goddamn different story. Where else would she go if it weren’t to Ariel’s?

 

I place the new phone in my pocket and race down the stairs towards the warehouse. The first few men I see, I assign them posts. “I need you out on May Street. Del’s house. Her address is in the cards. Check the house. If she’s there, put her on a bike and get her ass back here. If she’s not there, you fucking call me. You understand?” The two dipshits nod vigorously and then run off to the parking lot.

 

Another one, a youngish guy, appears behind them with a greasy beard and a haggard look. He avoids my glare, but I’m in a rush to get my work done. I’ll take a chance with any yellow-bellied man that stands near me. “Kid! I need you to call the fifth. Get Detective Sanchez on the phone and tell him that a girl’s gone missing. It’s Delilah. You know what she looks like?”

 

“Yeah, I do. I’ve met her a couple times when she was up—”

 

“I don’t give a f—,” I begin, then, realizing I’m about to say something stupid, “No. That’s fine. Just– just give him her description. Tell her she went missing on Sunday night. She was probably walking out of the territory, headed for the city on foot. She wouldn’t have taken a car. Ask if he knows anyone or if anyone on that force is willing to talk. I don’t care how much it takes.”

 

“What’s Sanchez’s number?”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Find. The fuck. Out! Just– just call him. Tell him that Race from the Devils is calling and see how fucking fast they move!”

 

“Okay. Yes.” He nods nervously as he wrestles out his phone. “Right on it, boss.”

 

“You!” I bark out, recognizing one of the enforcers. “Head over to Seb’s house. Check in with him and his girl. Find out when was the last time he saw Delilah. Don’t leave until you get the facts. I want you to report back within a half hour direct to me.”

 

The man pauses, sets his beer down on the bar, and interjects, “But, boss, Nicco’s got me heading out to the—”

 

“I don’t give a fuck where Nicco’s got you going. This is priority number one, you hear me?” I’m raging, and I feel like I’m about to bust this guy’s fucking skull open. “And just so we’re clear, I do not fucking appreciate being questioned. You do what I fucking say, or I dock some pay. You get me?”

 

The man slowly turns and heads out the door. I’m not entirely sure if I should ream into him some more or let him go, but I choose to let it slide so the task gets done sooner rather than later. I’m already three or four days behind if she really is missing.

 

“Who knows where the Rose Wood Cafe is?” I shout above the rest of the noise. The whole room turns towards me, but no one dares say another word. “The Rose Wood? Who is going to ride out there for me?”

 

When again no one answers, I do the one thing I’ve wanted to do for the last few days. I pick up the metal folding chair, lift it over my head, and slam it down as hard as I can against the cement floor. The vibrations rattle my arms and chest, but I stand firm to where I am, avoiding the glares of the rest of the men. Almost impossibly, the noise echoes throughout the room so that I can still hear it ringing in my ears.

 

“RACE!” a familiar voice shouts from behind me. “What the fuck is going on down there?” I turn to see Nicco looking at me with an unreadable look behind a pair of jet black sunglasses. He marches towards me, carefully stepping over the ruins of the metal chair. I can smell the sweet, dank liquor on his breath as he leans into me, studying me with his beady little eyes.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Race?” he asks, his voice lowered so that the peons listening in don’t get even the faintest earful of our conversation. “You’re not the one who orders the men around. I am. You’re not God around here. That’s my fucking job.”

 

“I get that, Nicco,” I try to assure him, staring him dead in the eye. “But I got word that Del, uh Delilah, is missing. We can’t lose her. Not after what I found out about her father.”

 

“Her father?”

 

It’s been about a week since I’ve talked to Shannon at the run-down diner. And since then, I’ve gone back and forth about giving Nicco the intel on her background. Part of me knew that it was the right thing to do. The guy was sadistic, but he had a mind on him that wouldn’t spill blood unless necessary.

 

The other part of me worried that the temptation to make a big play and use Del to lure in the leader of the biggest MC weighed heavily in my mind. There was, at the time, nothing to point me towards him being the one after her. It had been years since he had seen her. But something about this situation with Del gone missing was sounding more and more like MC strikes than ever before.

 

“I didn’t tell you, but I found out something about her. Something that you really ought to know.” He points towards the office, and I shuffle behind him, trying to keep up.

 

The second we’re in the office, I launch right into my report. “Shannon, Del’s mom, told me that her husband, a former head of the Devils, isn’t dead like all them out there think he is. He’s running the Roadheads now, and Shannon says he ain’t too fond of his old club mates. He may be using Del to either get to us or to Shannon. Honest to God, it’s hard to say.”

 

“If this is family business, I don’t want nothingto do with it. Stay out of it, and don’t risk our boys trying to save some pussy.” He sits down in one of the old metal office chairs, the kind that rolls back with your weight. He reaches for a cigarette, but I’m there. I snatch it away from him, crumbling it in my fist and letting the remains fall to the ground. It’s a bold fucking move, one that could get me killed or–worse–demoted. But I need his attention– I need him to listen to me.

 

“I’ve got a claim on her, Nicco! And we protect claims! That’s always been our rule, and the boys out there know it too. If we don’t offer protection to their girls and kids, then who the fuck are we and what are we offering them? We’re not a family if we don’t stand up for those in our territory! And you know that Del’s been good since she’s been with me. She’s given half those men down there warm meals and a safe space to go after they’re on their shift. She deserves to be fucking found!”

 

“Don’t talk to me like that, you stupid motherfucker. You’re not in charge here! No matter how much you want it, I’m the one they gave the president position to!”

 

“I don’t give a shit about my rank or yours. All I care about is getting Del and my baby back!”

 

He pauses, leaning forward. Nicco’s voice lowers as he asks, “Your baby? She’s…”

 

“Yeah. I found out on the day that she left. I told her… I told her to get out. But I had no idea that he was still looking for her and might make a move. I still don’t know for sure if that’s how it’s going down. That’s why I ordered them around down there. Before I jump, I’m gonna make for damn sure that we know he’s involved. I’m not gonna start a turf war just yet, Nic.”

 

He sighs heavily and places his hands behind his head. Something about his eyes change, maybe softens. “You, Race, you’re… you’re gonna be a fucking father. Never thought I’d see the day.”

 

I chuckle slightly, still not wanting to give up the gravity of the situation. “Yeah,” I say, a slight smile twitching at the corners of my mouth, “yeah, I guess I am.”

 

“A fucking bad daddy. That’s for sure.” He stands tall beside me. “Being a dad myself, not a good one mind you, I know what this means. If that girl is carrying your kid, then you got my support. You got the Devils’ support. Plus, it might be good to bring in some more mileage. We can show those California fuckers what a few mountain riders can do for them.”

 

“I’m not going to do anything stupid, Nicco. You know me. I’m the smartest rider out there.”

 

“I know that, kid. And I know that if you’re gonna do something stupid, you’ll at least have the audacity to do it right.” He snorts and chortles a little. It’s almost encouraging. “So, go fucking find her. We’ll deal with the consequences later.”

 

His eyes dart behind me, staring out the open door. I turn my back to see one of the kids I ordered around. Nicco motions for him to join us, and he carefully enters like a man about to explore a lair.

 

“What the fuck is it, Corey?” Nicco asks him.

 

“It’s, uh, it’s the detectives from the fifth,” he stammers. “The cops we got there… uh, Race told me to call them about Delilah. I gave them a description of her, and, well… it took me a few calls, but I got a detective here who says he knows something. He’s willing to talk if you’ve got the cash.”

 

I look towards Nicco. Before I can say a word, he chimes in with, “How much does the pig want? And how soon can we get him to squeal?”