TWENTY-THREE

Dog

Her hand shakes as she reaches under the edge of the table and sets it on my leg. I place mine over top, stroking the soft spot on the side of her wrist with my thumb.

Shit’s definitely serious if Crackers has brought Mel into the chapel.

“Figured we’d all fit better here than jammed in the office,” Crackers says from the head of the table.

Serious if he’s finally decided he can warm Hooch’s seat, too.

“Any objections?” He looks around the table at the officers of the Fort Worth chapter.

They all glance at one another, daring each other to say something. There’s nothing but pleasing silence.

“Got news about Hooch,” he says with his head down, forearms laid out on the table before him.

“Good news?” Mel asks, barely above a whisper.

“No news.” He frowns, touching the tips of his fingers together. “We haven’t heard from him since the day after he left us at the farm.”

“And you’re only just tellin’ us now?” Murphy shouts. “What the hell, brother?”

Crackers blinks, deflecting the heat by choosing to ignore it. “Digits tracked his phone the first few days, but he’s probably out of battery, or switched it off. It gave up sharin’ location early last week.”

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” Mel mutters. She looks around the table. “To us.”

“There were other factors involved.” His eyes flick to Digits, who stares down at his hands as he cracks his knuckles. “Turns out that retrieving Mel was just the icing on a huge as fuck cake of shit he had goin’ on.”

“You about to explain why he was askin’ me strange questions before he left?” Murphy asks.

“Possibly.” Crackers raises both eyebrows as he takes a deep breath. “He had a DEA agent on his ass.”

Mumbles bounce around the table as everybody takes stock of the news. Mel visibly pales, her throat bobbing as she swallows.

“Johnny spotted the guy camped out on the road when he rolled in a week or so back. Made me aware and we played a game of stalk the stalker with the asshole.”

“Then what?” I ask. “Where is he now?”

“In the worker’s house,” Digits answers without a trace of emotion.

“What are you going to do with him?” Mel asks.

She knows as well as I do that the worker’s house hasn’t had anyone living in it for decades. It’s basically the dungeon, where assholes get thrown while the club decides their fate; partially hidden by the flora that’s overgrown it over the years and far enough away that the sounds from within don’t bother the members up here at the big house.

“First,” Crackers answers. “We’ll find out what the fuck he wanted with Hooch. Seems we aren’t the only ones tryin’ to track down where he went. Mighty’s already dealt with the feds about your kill, Mel, so it has to be related to somethin’ else.”

“You think there’s guilt involved?” Murphy asks with trepidation.

Crackers shakes his head. “Not in Hooch’s nature. I won’t believe that until I have hard evidence to prove it.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, as does Mel.

“Regardless,” he continues. “It’s time our president came home, don’t you think?

“Agreed,” Murphy concurs.

“Where was the last location his phone gave off?” Jo-Jo startles the hell out of the lot of us by speaking up—a rare occasion for him.

“Jonesboro,” Digits answers.

“What the hell he doin’ in Arkansas?” Murphy asks.

“Stayin’ away from popular territory,” Crackers murmurs from the end of the table.

“We know many people that way?” Jo-Jo asks.

Crackers shakes his head as I slump back in my seat.

Mel’s hand squeezes tight under mine. “Should make it easy to narrow down where he’s gone then, shouldn’t it?” she asks.

“Assuming he’s even used our contacts at all,” Murphy states.

She ducks her head, that pink tongue of hers darting out to wet her lips. “Have to start somewhere, right?”

“I’ve got no other options,” Crackers agrees with a toss of his hands. “We’re stabbing around in one giant motherfuckin’ haystack hoping to hit anything at all.”

“We could just wait for him to come back on his own,” Digits says a little too cool for my liking.

“He’s got no idea that his name’s been cleared, man,” I cut back. “So what exactly makes you think he’d come back on his own accord?”

“Hey,” he protests. “It was just an idea.”

“Pretty shitty one, jackass,” I mutter.

“Dog.” Crackers stares me down.

“Who’s goin’ then?” Murphy looks at each of us in turn. “I’d put my hand up, but I finally got that appointment for the ultrasound on my fuckin’ elbow I’ve been waitin’ for and I ain’t waiting another five months to get a new one.”

“Nope, you stay here,” Crackers says. “Digits, I need you around to keep checkin’ for any hits on his number or bank account.”

The shithead scowls at our side of the table: Jo-Jo, myself, and Mel.

“I’m disposable,” I pipe up before the crazy fucker to our left has a chance to say anything. “Got nothin’ else important on.”

Crackers frowns chewing his bottom lip. “I’ll run it past King, first.”

“Yeah,” Digits snipes. “Wouldn’t want to get you grounded now, would we?”

I flip the asshole the middle finger, ready to throw down if he so much as utters another word.

“I’m going too.”

The entire table turns its attention toward Mel.

“Pardon?” Crackers visibly reels at her statement.

“Are you sure?” Murphy tests. “You might not like what you find.” His tone borders on condescending—only a fatherly figure like Murphy could pull it off without insulting anyone.

Mel squares her shoulders, her hand slipping from my leg as she straightens in her seat. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Murphy, but with all due respect, I’ve seen more than I should ever have to. I’ve picked him up off the floor and wiped his vomit from his face when he had one too many pills. I’ve nursed my brother’s strength back when he thought alcohol poisoning would be a swell way to start his summer. And I’ve also witnessed my mother do the same for my father when she thought nobody was around to see him in that state.

“I’ve been there, done that, and I’m ready to do it all again if it pieces what little I have left of my family back together.”

I couldn’t be more proud of her. She’s shown more selfless purpose in that single moment than in all her efforts to find a reason to be home the last couple of weeks.

Problem is, I still think she doesn’t realize it.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. I’m ready for Hooch to come home now.”

“Aren’t we all,” Crackers agrees as he smacks the gavel down. “Let’s make sure it’s the last time I have to do that for a while, huh?”