Chapter 12

Marc

I’d caught Drummer’s interest. He takes his phone out of his cut and places it on the desk between us. He dials a number. I’m going to look such a fool if Heart answers. But I’m hoping he does, and that I’ll then leave embarrassed but relieved. I’d happily accept anything that proves this bad feeling inside me to be wrong. My friend’s in trouble.

It’s on speaker, and it goes straight to voicemail.

Drummer stares at this cell. When he looks up he meets my eye. “He could be on another call.”

“Or the battery has run out,” Wraith adds.

He dials again. And gets the same result.

The prez jerks his chin toward Wraith. “Get Mouse in here.”

The VP gets to his feet and opens the door. “Mouse!” he yells at the top of his voice. It sounds like he must only be in the office next door, as I hear a door opening and shutting, and then the inaptly named Mouse appears, tall, well built, and with enviably long, dark, shiny hair. He’s part Navajo, I remember from his file.

As Wraith returns and takes his seat, Mouse pauses in the doorway, his face pointed expectantly toward Drummer. “Yeah, Prez. Wassup?”

“Heart’s phone. Can you track it?”

Without asking why, Mouse simply asks, “What happens if you call it?”

Drummer tries to place the call again. It goes straight to voicemail. “Third time that’s happened.”

Mouse tuts. “Either he’s on a long call or the device is dead. If the batteries run out there’s not much I can do. When was he last in contact?”

“Ten days ago,” I butt in. Mouse gives me a strange look and raises his eyebrow, then turns his attention back to his prez. “You think something’s happened to him?”

“Can’t rule it out.”

“I should be able to pull up the last location where it was used.”

“That would be something, Mouse. Do that, will ya?”

Drummer picks up his phone and places another call. This time he takes it off speaker. “Yo, Dart. How ya doin’ in San D? Alex and the kid okay?”

“Good. Good. Glad to hear the boy’s doin’ well.”

“Yeah? Does he?” He chortles, and putting his hand over the phone, speaks to Wraith. “Kid still goes to bed with his fuckin’ cut on.” Wraith laughs.

“Yeah, Eli’s doing great. Good fuckin’ set of lungs on him. Ollie? She’s good too. Got Wraith here if you want to give him some fatherly advice.”

I twist my hands together in my lap, wishing he’d get on with it.

And at last he does. “Brother, you heard from Heart at all? Word is he was headin’ your way before comin’ here.”

“Yeah, six months almost gone now. Seems he’s doin’ better at last. But you haven’t heard from him or seen him?”

It’s a negative answer, I can tell by the way Drum sucks in his cheeks.

“Yeah, keep in touch. That would be great. Brothers here would love to see y’all. You do that. And soon.”

He ends the call, shakes his head, and then lowers his face, cupping his cheeks between his hands. After a moment he looks up.

“I take it you can’t be contacted via the precinct?” Then when I gesture a negative reply, he continues, “Leave me your number. If we find anything we can share, I’ll be in contact. Only to put your mind at rest, mind you. Whatever this fuckin’ thing is between you and Heart has to stop.”

I sit back in the chair, cross my feet at the ankles, and fold my arms over my chest. “Nope. I want to know that Heart’s okay, and if he’s not, do what I can to help. You’re not leaving me out of this, Drummer.”

“You’re not here in an official capacity. And whether you’re on active duty or not, cops and the likes of us don’t mix. Now I’ll ask you politely to leave us.” As I go to refuse, his face grows dark. “Or I can easily have you escorted out. You’ve no right to be here.”

Still in my defensive posture, I lean my torso forwards, bending at the waist. “If it wasn’t for me, Drummer, you wouldn’t even know something was wrong. I’ve contacted the LA police and he hasn’t been arrested. He’s not turned up in a hospital or morgue. He’s gone completely off the radar, and that’s not like him.”

When Drummer tries to interrupt me, I put up my hand to stop him. “For the last five months, every time I’ve contacted him, he’s answered his phone. If not immediately, he’s got in the habit of returning my calls. While I was in the hospital he was ringing every couple of days to find out how I was. Last time I spoke to him he was going out sightseeing. He was getting stronger in his head, even joking about the things Crystal was making him do.” I realise that doesn’t sound right. “The things she had on her list.” I bite my lip to cover a small smile. “Though he did balk at Disneyland. The point is, if there had been anything wrong, I would have known it.” I place my hands flat on the table. “Heart started out suicidal. For the past month or so he’s changed. His focus was on getting back to his daughter. Something’s happened to him, whatever you think. Something he couldn’t control.”

“Still doesn’t mean you shouldn’t leave it in our hands, darlin’.” Wraith backing up his prez is what I don’t want. Especially when he gets to his feet, obviously preparing to walk me off the premises.

I have a brief reprieve, as at that moment Mouse returns. “Found his phone. Must have run out of battery or something. But I can tell you where it was six days ago.”

Drum opens his mouth, but I get in before him. “Where?”

Mouse just glances at me, then back at his prez.

“Look, Drummer. I might be able to call on resources to help.”

“No cops. Whatever’s happened to Heart, we’ll sort it ourselves.”

I breathe in deeply and let air out on a sigh. “Of course you will.”

“Women aren’t involved in club business.”

“I’m not a woman.”

Wraith laughs. “Could have fooled me, darlin’.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I snap. “I’m not someone who sits around waiting for men to look out for her. I’ve been trained in self-defence, in high-speed driving. I carry a gun and am not afraid to use it.”

“Don’t matter what sex you are. You’re not a member. You’re fuckin’ law enforcement.”

“Doesn’t Heart matter to you?” I stand up and slam the palms of my hands down on the desk. “If it was someone I cared for, I’d take all the help I could fucking get.” I’m so angry my cheeks feel warm. “Thanks for the tip, Mouse. I’ll get someone checking his phone and go after him myself.”

“Don’t talk to me that way ever again!” Drummer’s voice thunders over mine. “And sit the fuck down.”

Assuming my point has been made, I do as he says and snap my mouth shut.

After focusing his glare on me as though making sure I’m satisfied I’ve had my say, he looks behind me. My threat to use police resources to find out the same info that Mouse has obviously worked. He wouldn’t want Heart to be officially listed as a missing person and have the police trying to track him down. “What you got, Mouse?”

“I’ve checked the location on Google Maps and viewed it on satellite. Seems to be an old factory of some sort.”

“Any vehicles, bikes?”

Mouse huffs a laugh, but it’s not one of amusement. “You know how old those images can be? There’s nothing at all at the factory, which just means it wasn’t used once, but could have been taken over now. Or, it could still be abandoned.”

“Did it look like a place Heart would have lost his phone?” Although it would be a sensible move to keep quiet, I simply can’t. I throw a look of apology at Drum as I see his eyes tightening.

Mouse answers. “Can’t see what he’d go there for. It was a bit out of the way, not much around it. Even at the time the picture was taken, other buildings were run down.”

“Anything show on Street View?”

Now there’s a glint in Mouse’s eye as if I’m speaking his language. “Similar to Google Earth, if it’s not older.”

“No sign? Identification of any sort?” I look at Drummer. “If we knew who owns, or even owned it, we might get a clue what it’s being used for now.”

Smothering his annoyance that I seem to be conducting an interrogation, his eyes flit to Mouse, who shakes his head. “Sorry, Prez. Nothin’. And before you ask, nothin’ on the buildings around it. Some didn’t even have roofs or walls intact.”

Drummer picks up a pen and twists it between his hands, then he points it directly at me. “I admit I don’t much like what I’m fuckin’ hearin’.”

“What are you going to do, Drummer?”

“Club fuckin’ business. And none of yours.” And I’m reminded that I’m sitting in front of the president of what my colleagues would consider a dangerous OMG. And this time, when he gives me the instruction to leave, I realise he’s giving me no choice.

“Now get out of here, Detective. I can’t fuckin’ deny I’m grateful to ya if Heart is in trouble, you’ve given us the heads up. And,” he points his finger toward me, “you better start makin’ arrangements to get out of Heart’s fuckin’ house. I’m grateful to ya for lookin’ out for my brother, so I’ll let you know what I find. But this…friendship between you stops now. Club rules are members don’t talk to cops. Even off duty ones. Ever. You’re gonna promise me here and now that you won’t try to make contact with Heart ever again. Unless it is fuckin’ official business and he’s got a brother or lawyer by his side.”

That is a promise I can’t make.

“VP. Get her out of here, and then get everyone together for church.” His eyes at last gentle. “I know you’re concerned about him, but leave this to us. I don’t want any cops involved.”

I can agree to that. “My position’s already precarious, I realise that. I assure you, Drummer, I’d be faced with questions from my boss if I started an investigation about Heart going missing. Questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. As you’ve said, law enforcement and OMGs don’t mix. I’d probably lose my job.”

He gives me a sharp nod.

I stand and let Wraith lead me into their clubroom, passing me over to one of their prospects to escort me out. Inside, my mind is whirling. Drummer wants me to stay out of this? No fucking chance.

Since the loss of my family I’ve purposefully allowed no one to get close, but somehow, over the past winter Heart’s become a good friend. And I won’t be letting him down. Sitting back and waiting for news isn’t how I work. No, I’m going after him myself, and I know exactly how to do it.

Getting back onto my Ninja, I speed through the streets back to Heart’s house and get my toy out of my garage, my ratty, mean-looking Suzuki. Harleys might be the preferred bikes for the MC, but I favour the higher speed, tighter cornering, and the bad boy looks of my brute of a machine. And the best thing? Only Heart knows this beast is mine.

Guessing they’ll only be having a short church meeting, and not doubting that the outcome will find them undertaking the eight-hour ride to LA, aiming to get there in closer to six by lane splitting and breaking speed limits to locate their missing brother, I know I’ve got no time to waste. I grab my black helmet, black jacket, and get on my black ride, tucking my blond hair up out of sight, becoming another anonymous biker on the road.

There are two routes they could take to LA. As it would be stupid to try and follow them from the clubhouse, I instead zoom past and park up on the shoulder just before Casa Grande and the junction between the I8 and I10. Then I wait. Just a biker checking his route on his phone.

As expected, I’m not there long. Half a dozen bikers zoom past me, taking the straight route up to Phoenix. I smile to myself, knowing it’s them, even though they already removed their cuts, there’s no disputing it’s Drummer out in front. Getting back on my Suzuki, I start it up and move out onto the highway. Twisting the throttle, I pick up speed, and am soon flying past them. With a couple of stops to top off my tank, I arrive at San Bernardino and again settle to wait. Now it gets harder. From here on I’ll have to try to follow them undetected, as I’ve no idea of where exactly they’re heading. I can’t lose them now. I’m too close.

They’re quite a way behind me, but I’m patient. At last they come into sight, now all wearing helmets to abide by the California laws. Once they’re a little way ahead, I slip into the traffic behind. I’ve done the surveillance course too, and now put all I’ve learned to good use.

I’m a few cars behind as we pass the Hollywood sign, and I’m overtaking to get a little closer when I see them turn off. As they start to take turns left and right, I need to narrow the gap between us, determined not to let them out of my sight. I can’t lose them, not when Heart might be close.

A left then a right, then a right once again. Where the hell are they going? Suddenly the bikes in front of me slow, and two peel off. I reduce my speed and hang back. Oh shit. In my rear view I see two bikers coming up behind me. I hadn’t been as clever as I’d thought.

Their speed reduced once again, I’m suddenly surrounded and forced to stop. Knowing I need to identify myself quickly, I pull off my helmet and dark glasses and shake out my hair.

“Fuck me,” Drummer says, getting off his bike. “What the fuck are you doing here, Detective?”

“I’m coming to find Heart.”

“You’re a persistent bitch, aint’cha?” Drummer’s shaking his head. “Must have broken a few laws speedin’ to get here.”

“Yes, I did. And I’m prepared to break more if I’m right and Heart’s in trouble. Anything it takes, Drummer. You’re not going to get rid of me. So I suggest we go to wherever his phone was last pinged and start tracking him down.” I gaze at him steadily, hoping to convey nothing he can say will put me off.

Almost without seeing where it came from, a gun’s pointed straight at me. “Oh, I can get rid of you, sweetheart.” His tone is chilling.

There’s already been one attempt on my life, as the throbbing in my head reminds me. I stare at the gun, then toss a look of challenge to Drummer. “Isn’t this just wasting time?”

As an answer I hear a click as he gets ready to fire. Well, if this is it, so be it. I’ll have died trying to find the man I’ve come to like.

A pin would be heard if it dropped. The distant sound of traffic seems to fade.

“If you’re going to do it, I suggest you’re quick. Heart needs to be found.” I can’t explain the feeling inside which tells me he needs help. My worry seems to be for him, not for myself. I know outlaw gangs can’t be trusted and have a probably rational fear of the police. I made my bed when I decided to follow them.

Seconds pass slowly, time seems to extend.

Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the gun goes back into its holster and Drummer’s still standing in front of me, again shaking his head. “You’re a brave bitch,” he tells me, admiringly. “You must really have a thing for Heart.”

Now it’s my head that moves side to side, but in truth I can’t really explain it. “I just want to know that he’s safe. I heard what you said, Drummer, and I agree. Once Heart’s back home I won’t have anything to do with him. Cops and bikers don’t mix.”

“If you come with us you might see things...”

“I’m not a cop today. I’m not even here, I’m recovering at home, remember?”

He stands back a pace and looks at my bike, shaking his head once again. “Is that thing even legal?”

“I don’t fucking care,” I toss his way.

Another sharp look, then, “Mount up, brothers. Let’s go see what we can find. And you, Marcia, can tag along at the back.”

Before I can sigh with relief, bikes are starting with a thunderous roar, and then we’re off.

Soon we’re heading into an industrial area that looks like it went out of business some time ago, a ghostly, eerie place. Heart can’t be here, can he? If I had a bad feeling before, it’s certainly not being allayed by this place. It’s the kind of place a cop would expect to find a body.

Drummer calls us to a halt and waves a man forwards. “Blade. Wanna go with Mouse and take a look?”

Mouse is studying a print-out. “There’s a way around the back, along the tree line there. Reckon we can get close without being seen.” He breaks off and looks around the deserted area. “If there’s anyone to see us, of course.”

Drum nods, and they move off without wasting time.

No one speaks while they’re gone, expressions are sombre. I guess everyone’s thinking like me. If Heart is with his phone, chances are he’ll be found as a corpse. And on the other hand, even if he was here once, he might not be now. His phone could have been stolen then dropped. Snippets of my conversations with him go around my head. He’d come back from the precipice, he wanted to be a good dad to his little girl. He can’t be dead. Impatiently I wipe a tear from my eye, the action not going unnoticed by Drummer.

It’s not long before Mouse and Blade return. Blade’s looking particularly grim. “You’re not going to believe this, Drum. There’s a dozen bikes parked up—mostly Harleys. We’ve stumbled across an MC.”

“Any idea who?”

“Demon Sons,” Mouse interjects. “Sign out front.”

“Never fuckin’ heard of them.” Drummer takes his phone from his cut and wanders a little distance away. It’s impossible to hear his end of the call.

After a few minutes he comes back. “Right, I’ve spoken with the dom. They’ve not heard of them either, and aren’t happy they’ve set up on their turf, or if they’ve disrespected the Ronin protection extended to Heart. Want us to give them any info we find, happy if we have to take them out.” He glares at me when he says the last, but I just stare back.

All I’m interested in is the man I’ve come to find. Even if I know Drummer’s call had been placed to the Hell’s Angels, the dominant MC in California, to which other one-percenter clubs give due respect. I’m not stupid, and I know a club which appears overnight unknown to the HAMC is asking for trouble. And if Heart’s here, I’ll be right behind Drum helping to finish them off. If Heart’s here and hurt, or if they’ve killed him… My vow to uphold the law disappears in a flash, overtaken by my desire to take out the bad guys.

“You stay here and wait.”

“No. There’s a dozen bikes there, that could be a dozen men. You’ve got seven, including me.” I take a deep breath. “Biker clubs like women, yeah?” I shake out my long hair and fan it around my face. It’s only a bit shorter than it had been once the singed ends were cut off. Taking off my riding jacket, I reach under my tight t-shirt and unclasp my bra, sliding the straps down my arms and removing it from underneath my top. My fairly generous breasts are now clearly outlined, the nipples pushing at the thin material. I step off my bike, showing my legs are encased in figure-hugging leather jeans. The only thing letting me down is my scarred arm.

“Would I pass for a biker babe?”

“I’d fuck ya,” an admiring voice says.

“Shut it, Rock,” Drum growls, but he’s giving me an appraising look. “You go in there, you’re likely to be eaten alive.”

“I can handle myself,” I tell him. “I’ll see the lay of the land and let you know what I find.”

“You armed?”

I pull up the leg of my jeans and show him my ankle holster.

“Give me your phone.” When I do, he enters his number. “Have it in your pocket and keep the line open. I want to hear everything that’s said. Try and get us some info.”

I nod, dial his number, and put my phone into my pocket.

His hand comes out and rests on my shoulder, his fingers gently pressing in. “Good luck, sweetheart. Now go and let’s see if we can find our brother.”