Chapter 25

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Parked across the street from the Piedmont Apartments, Glen sat sideways at the curb on his Harley and kept an eye on the red Pontiac and the door of apartment 217. Evan Kingsley was home. He'd verified his presence with the information he had upon arrival.

He hoped the son of a bitch would try to get past him. He could show the asshole what it felt like to hurt a smaller, weaker, younger woman.

A familiar rumble came over the traffic noises behind him. Glen spit out the empty sunflower seeds. He didn't have to look to know Wayne was parking alongside him.

Wayne shut off the Harley. "Anything?"

"Nope." Glen remained on his bike. "He arrived home a couple of hours ago and hasn't come out. I suspect once he hears from dear ol' Dad that Ingrid has made a record of the abuse and filed it with the P.D., he'll make an appearance."

Wayne leaned forward and braced his forearms on the handlebar. "We need to talk about what your plans are because whatever you do will affect all of us. Notus Motorcycle Club will be included. We're spread thin right now watching Kingsley and Ingrid. If a missing person request comes in, we'll be even more spread out. I can talk to the others after you decide what you would like to see happen. You know the drill. If one of us disagrees, we'll put it up for a vote."

More times over the years than he could count, they'd had to vote on how to handle the drawbacks of searching for missing persons. A rapist who walked away because of a technicality. A serial killer who needed to be stopped. While they worked in partnership with the police department and privately for the families of those missing a loved one, sometimes the judicial system failed society. That's where Notus stepped up and away from the law and created another link tightening the brotherhood by serving their own justice.

"I don't know yet," he said.

"As much as I hate to admit it, none of us have seen Evan do a damn thing wrong. Ingrid's story is her version. There's no record of her calling the police previously during any of the abuse, and you know as well as I do that anyone can walk into the P.D. and make a formal report about anything. We're not dealing with a motherfucker with no family. Evan's father wears a badge, which means he's got the support of the department. If there are questions, they're not going to get swept under the fucking rug." Wayne paused as one of the tenants walked out to her car. "But, bro, I get it. It hasn't been that long ago since I dealt with Clara and Gracie's situation. Ingrid's safety is our top priority."

Wanting to avoid making a decision regarding Kingsley, Glen said, "Do you think that guy in Seattle really knows how to contact Rich?"

"That's what he said." Wayne ground the heel of his boot against the asphalt, taking Glen's change in subjects in stride. "If there's a chance he's living there, we need to go to him. If one of us were missing, Rich would come."

"Would he?" Glen rubbed his mouth and looked away. "Have the detective make contact with Rich. There's my vote. I can't take time away right now riding off on some wild goose chase. We're all going to have to return to work on Monday, except Kingsley who has the day off. It leaves Ingrid unprotected. Can you contact Hanley? He'd be able to protect her. I'll pay out of my own pocket."

"I'll contact him, and we'll settle how to hire him later, as a club," said Wayne.

Hanley was ex-military. Trained as a sniper and a fucking good man. He'd lost his niece to domestic violence and helped out occasionally on missing person cases if they needed more feet on the ground.

"Will you fucking talk to me?" muttered Wayne. "What's going on with you. Your head is all over the damn place."

Glen exhaled loudly. "Not much to say."

"Is this about Ingrid?"

"It can't be about her." Glen stood beside his bike. "Remember Gunnar Peterson?"

"That's Ingrid's dad." Wayne shrugged. "What about him?"

"Remember the guy about ten or twelve years ago who was from St. John's and got in a vehicle accident. His injuries paralyzed him, and the community stepped up to help with the expenses he'd need for his recovery. I think even Vavoom's had a jar by the cash register for a while."

"Yeah, wasn't he the football coach at the high school?"

Glen nodded. "He also graduated two years ahead of us."

"You're saying that guy in the accident is Gunnar Peterson?"

"Yep." He tapped the toe of his boot against the curb, unable to wait until Wayne put two and two together. When Wayne remained quiet, Glen said, "Which makes Ingrid twenty years old."

"We never ran a background on her name, just her parents, after she told us what had happened. I thought she was older...the whole crew cut thing going on and living on the street..." Wayne raised his brows. "I never would've thought she was that young."

"Me, neither." He shook his head. "In my head, I believed she was twenty-seven years old like her fake I.D showed. She sure in the hell never confessed to her real age when she told us what was going on."

Wayne studied him and finally asked, "Where's that leave you?"

"Far away from her." Glen gritted his teeth. "I'm forty-three years old."

"Did you fuck her?"

That wouldn't be how he'd describe sex between him and Ingrid. Glen gritted his teeth. "Yep."

"Damn."

Logic told him the moment he walked into her house and brought her back to her parents, whatever had happened between him and Ingrid was over. Learning her age should've wiped out any attraction he had toward her. The disgust at himself should've been enough to cut his feelings off instantly and push him back into the role of her protector.

But, none of that happened. He still couldn't look at her without wanting her. Some primal need to have her by his side burned fast and hard.

The front door of Kingsley's apartment opened, and Evan stepped out, locking the door behind him. Glen turned and sat on his bike.

"Kingsley's moving," he said.

Wayne lifted his hand out to the side, stopping him. "We need your plan, bro."

To kill the son of a bitch. To string him up and torment him for two years the way he had Ingrid.

Instead, he said, "Watch and wait."

Ingrid was right when she said Evan was smart. He wouldn't go looking for her immediately. The son of a cop would first meet with his father and plant doubt in Ingrid's story. Because Ingrid had stopped Evan in his tracks from doing any more abuse that could be reported, he'd need to grow his support while becoming more devious about his plan of attack. He was confident that Kingsley's next move would be his last.

And, when Kingsley made his move. Glen would be there to stop him.