Chapter Twenty-Three

It didn’t take long for things to get worse. Whatever fury Keenan had been saving up in his two months of quiet came rushing forth once Matt was kidnapped.

 

A few days after Matt was gone, the first bill came due for the tax lawsuit. The club was broke. There was no money to go anywhere. Avon felt helpless and spinning – unable to provide, unable to protect.

 

He knew it was wearing away at him. Making him grouchy and a general asshole. All the happy feelings of moving into the new apartment, the home he’d chosen with Matt in mind, had disintegrated. He and Robyn were living in tension. Part of the family missing. No clue where to go from here.

 

While Robyn was at work later that week, Avon had to get out of the house. Without Matt there, he had no reason to stay holed up and drive himself even more crazy.

 

Avon rode over to the Chained Kings’ clubhouse. His bike was the only thing that would keep him sane now. The only chance he had. The rumble of the engine combined with the wind in his hair. This was the only meditation he knew.

 

The ride was quick to the clubhouse. As he was pulling in, a few club brothers nodded. Avon tugged his helmet off as they wandered over.

 

“Look who it is.” Knobby came over, slapping Avon on the back. “The ghosted president returns.”

 

“Time to be with the original family,” Avon said, forcing a smile. “Shit’s been rough recently, huh, guys?”

 

“Tell us about it.” Mickey, another club brother, lit up his cigarette with a grimace. “We’re tapped.”

 

Avon ran a hand through his hair, heading inside. “Viper here?”

 

“Inside,” Mickey said.

 

Avon pushed his way inside, low rock music playing from the speakers. A few other brothers shouted their greetings as he walked through. Viper was sitting on the main couch, looking at his phone.

 

“I swear to God, I was just about to call you,” Viper said as Avon came up.

 

The two men slapped each other’s backs before Avon sank into the couch beside him.

 

“I needed to get out of the house.” Avon tugged at the tips of his riding gloves. “What’s the plan from here?”

 

“Hell if I know.” Viper sighed, pocketing his phone. “But I got more bad news.”

 

Avon felt his entire face fall. “Christ. What is it? Not sure I want any more bad news.”

 

Viper watched him for a moment before speaking, as though weighing how to say the words. “I got word that Slade’s in bad shape.”

 

“Shit. What do you mean ‘bad shape’?”

 

“Somebody got to him, beat the shit out of him.” Viper scratched the back of his head. “He’s in a coma at the hospital. The clubhouse was on his emergency call list.”

 

“Fuck.” Avon’s head dropped into his hands. “This has to be related.”

 

“What?”

 

“Keenan.” Avon looked up at Viper. He clenched his fists. “I told the cops that Keenan was a suspect when they came to take the report at the apartment. I knew word might travel, but I didn’t fucking care.” A long, weary sigh escaped him. “And now Slade’s hurt. Don’t you think it’s related?”

 

“At this point, yes.” Viper rubbed his face. “And there’s fucking nothing we can do about it now that we’re totally broke. Goddamn this guy.”

 

“I know that he has Matt.” Avon’s chest tightened whenever he thought about little Matty. Kidnapped… twice. The first had been a mistake. The second was part of a sick game. A game Matt didn’t deserve to be a part of. “But I don’t know how to fucking find him.”

 

“And there’s jackshit we can do other than back you up. Cops have anything?”

 

“No word from them yet,” Avon said. His phone started buzzing in his pocket, and he fished it out. An unknown call just ended by the time he pulled it open. He swore under his breath. “That could have been the cops. Or maybe Matt.”

 

“They’re gonna find something soon.”

 

Avon grunted. A new voicemail alert popped up, and he turned it to speakerphone.

 

“Hi, Avon… it’s me – Matt. I miss you. I mean… I’m really happy where I am… and I don’t want to come home?” A whimper. “Don’t look for me. Bye.”

 

Avon covered his face with his hands, his cousin’s meek words resonating through him. He wanted to hurl.

 

“No doubt Keenan forced him to say that,” Viper said.

 

“It’s fucking obvious.” Avon drew a deep breath. “I’m taking this to the cops. Immediately. What little kid would say that anyway?”

 

“You can hear it in his voice.”

 

“Christ. This just keeps getting worse.” Avon stood, feeling infinitely tenser than when he’d left the apartment. “I’m heading to the police station now. Let me know if you hear anything.”

 

Avon said a quick goodbye to the brothers and hurried toward his bike. The fall air was chilly, make him grateful for the thick leather jacket. His head was thick with confusion and questions as he drove to the police headquarters. It seemed like this shit might never let up.

 

He had to wait forever to see the detective handling his case. With his Chained Kings jacket on, he drew plenty of looks sitting in the reception area of the police station. He kept his head down, knee bouncing as he waited.

 

When the detective called for him, Avon followed the short, wiry man down a complex series of hallways. It felt like he didn’t breathe until Detective Rogers shut the door to his office.

 

“I got something you need to hear.” Avon fished his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the voicemail. He played it as Rogers leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Hm,” was all he said, then circled behind his desk.

 

“It’s Matt,” Avon clarified. “Have you guys found anything yet? These assholes made him leave this message. I’m positive.”

 

“He doesn’t sound terribly convincing, I’ll give him that,” Rogers said, rifling through some papers. “But we don’t know this came from Keenan.”

 

Avon scoffed, shoving his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Trust me. It was Keenan. And you guys need to find something to link him.”

 

Rogers sent him a sharp glance. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I can’t just take your word for it. I need evidence. A trail. And right now, we’ve got nothing.”

 

“Jesus.” Avon squeezed the armrests of the chair. “And meanwhile, everything gets shittier. One of my best friends was put in the hospital recently. Beaten unconscious. It’s Keenan’s work too.”

 

“Allegedly,” added Rogers.

 

“Yeah, fuck your allegedly. I know it’s Keenan.” Avon’s voice was getting gruff now, but he couldn’t help it. “Everything lines up. You guys are the only ones who can help us now. My club is broke. Robyn’s due in just over a month. We’ve got our hands tied. Come on!” He slammed his fist against the desk.

 

Rogers barely blinked. “I understand your passion—”

 

“No, I don’t want you to understand my passion,” Avon said, the words spilling out of him now. “I want you to understand my rage. This guy is fucked up, and he is fucking up the lives of everyone around him. Look. Into. Keenan. Lourdes.”

 

The detective’s nostrils flared, but he held Avon’s gaze. After a moment, he said, “I’ll see what we can find. And trust me, you’ll be updated.”

 

“I want my cousin back.” Avon fished his phone back out of his jacket pocket. “And now record this message. It’s evidence.”