Six months ago

Shit, what was she doing? Reagan thought. She was standing outside in the middle of winter watching some random hunter’s mountain cabin, trying to figure out what the hell her brother was up to.  She should have just called the police, but what could she have possibly said, ‘Yeah, my family is doing something, not quite sure what it is but trust me it’s bad could you pick them up or follow them?’  Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.  So, here she stood freezing her ass off and watching.  Once she figured out what was going on, she would go to the cops.

Why couldn’t she have come from normal people? Her family was so messed up.  As a child, Reagan remembered praying she had been adopted and that her real family was going to come for her one day, but the Lee family traits ran strong in all twelve of them, and Reagan was no exception.  Strawberry blonde hair, aqua blue eyes, small lanky bodies—there really wasn’t any mistaking they were all blood-related, and the good people of Defiance never let her forget it, either. 

Well, she did have a few trait’s that didn’t come from her parents or older siblings, like going to College and getting a degree and then using that degree to actually work instead of living off of government assistance.   She also did her best to abide by the law which none of her family did, hell six of her older brothers were in prison, and three would never see the outside again.  Two others had died running some scam when she was just a little girl.  The three siblings who were left, well, only two had a chance—her brother Brandon who was only twelve, but already showing signs of following the family tradition of getting in trouble and pissing away his education, and her little sister Alexa who was only four.

Reagan really wanted to get Alexa away from the destruction her family could cause before it was too late.  She had even offered her parents money to allow her to raise Lexie, but, of course, they refused.  The government check they received was more important to them than Lexie’s well-being, and although Reagan made good money, she didn’t make enough to pay them a monthly stipend and still have enough left over for her bills and everything else she and Lexie might need, like food.  But she was saving and one day she would get her sister out of there.  

Lexie was why she was standing in the cold, freezing rain watching her one and only remaining older brother.  She had told Reagan that a rich man wanted to meet her and buy her presents, and that Bobby, the asshole, was going to take her to him on Saturday.  Reagan confronted her brother, but the jerk denied everything, saying Lexie didn’t know what she was talking about, he was the one taking her to buy her presents on Saturday.  When Reagan went to her parents’ house the next day, her Mother refused to let her in, said she was a bad influence on Lexie, and if Regan stepped foot on the Lee family property again, she would call the cops. 

So, Reagan took a week off work and started following her brother.  Damn, he was scum; between drug buys and hookers, the man never stopped.  He drank, smoked, and partied like a rich man.  He also met people in dark alleys and seedy hotels.  This was actually a step up from the things she had seen.  Reagan had watched him go into the cabin about ten minutes ago and waited to make sure he wasn’t going to come back out.  Then she crept up to a window in the back and tried to peek through it.  What she saw chilled her blood, but what she heard ripped her heart out. 

The cabin was small, maybe only one or two rooms.  There were three men in that cabin, all prominent members of the Defiance elite.  There was also a girl tied to a bed off to the side of the room, bloody, beaten, and bruised.  Reagan couldn’t get a good enough look at her to see who she was or even if she could recognize her from town.  The three men were sitting around a table, drinking amber liquid out of crystal tumblers, smoking cigars.  It was almost like they were at their country club instead of in the woods with an abused girl bleeding out laying on a bed ten feet from them.  They were all laughing, having a good old time.  Looking closer, she noticed that their usual pristine attire was disheveled and open.  One man’s shirt, another one’s belt, and the last wasn’t wearing a shirt at all; he had scratches all over his arms, face, and chest.

Reagan didn’t know what to do, she was in the middle of nowhere with no cell service.  Even if she did call the authorities, who would come? The freaking Police Chief was already sitting in the room.  Would they even respond to her call or would they call him directly or dismiss it if he answered the door?  Damn it, Bobby was walking toward the window she was hiding by, fuck.  Reagan was pretty good at being invisible, a learned trait having nine mean, sadistic, older brothers, and parents who preferred their children to be anywhere but near them.  So, she was pretty sure he hadn’t seen her following him, but hell, what did she honestly know? She was a goddamn accountant, not a spy. 

Crouching down further, Reagan plastered her back against the house, trying to make herself as small as possible.  From the angle of the window, she was fairly sure Bobby wouldn’t see her if he hadn’t already.  When she heard the groan of the window opening, she almost peed her pants.  Her brother's voice didn’t register at first because her heart was beating so hard and fast she could feel her pulse in her head. 

“Damn, it fucking stinks in here, you men outdid yourself today.  Clean up is going to cost you extra.”

“Shut the hell up, Bobby, you will do what we pay you for already, you’re not getting a penny more.  You’re just pissed we didn’t save you some this time,” the Police Chief said causing all the men to laugh including her damn brother. 

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, but I’m going to need to burn this shit, the bed clothes, hell, even the girl, and you can say goodbye to all your little toys cuz those have got to go, too.”

“Whatever, get to it. You know where the fire pit is, just make sure you scatter that shit when it burns down.” 

“Like this is my first time. You old fuckers are getting a little too greedy if you ask me.  This is the third clean up you’ve called me out on in the last two months; someone’s going to start missing these girls.  You guys are getting sloppy if you ask me.”

“That’s just it, Bobby, no one is asking you shit, dumbass.  Do your damn job and shut the fuck up like we pay you to do.”

“Hey, Bobby,” the man without the shirt and all the scratches was the next to speak, “how’s that little sister of yours? We still on for Saturday?  Milton said once he got the money, you would be transferring the goods.” 

“Yeah, we are all set. Had a little problem with Reagan nosing around, but Mama fixed her up good.  Everything should go as planned. You know you’re going to have to keep her under wraps, Reagan won’t ever stop looking for her unless you make it look good.”

“Your sister’s your problem. If you can’t get her on board, then you need to take her the fuck out, easy as that. If your old man had handed her over like I asked all those years ago, she wouldn’t have been anyone’s problem.  That’s on your family Lee.”

“Yeah, whatever, just telling you the facts, what you choose to do with them is your problem.” 

Reagan was stunned at what she was hearing, but hell she couldn’t move; if Bobby came out that door and turned left, she would be right in his sights.  The fire pit was off to the side. She only had one chance, sitting still and hoping the damn bush next to her hid her enough so she wasn’t seen.  At least she had worn dark clothes. 

Carefully peeking back through the window, Reagan watched as her brother sliced the ropes that had been holding the girl.  She didn’t move, not even a little, when he started wrapping her up like a burrito in the bloody sheets; Reagan knew the poor girl was dead.  Holy shit, what the hell had she gotten herself into? Bobby picked up the girl and stomped towards the door.  Reagan crouched down, crossing her fingers, toes, and everything she had, praying he wouldn’t see her, and for once in her life, luck was on her side.  He never even looked her way. 

Reagan wanted to gag, she could smell the smoke from the fire her brother had started, and knowing what he was putting into it, only turned her stomach more.  The men in the room continued to talk about Defiance and business.  Reagan couldn’t believe that they had just caused a death and were acting like everything was normal in the world.  Hell, maybe it was normal in their world. 

“You know, we’re going to have to do something about him, right?”

“Who, Bobby? Hell, he’s just a dumb fuck, piece of white trash. What’s he going to do about anything?”

“The asshole is hooked on smack; in my experience junkies talk when they need cash or more drugs.  Unless you’re planning on being his supplier, we need to discuss taking him out once you get your package, Brent.”

“Yeah, you might be right, wouldn’t be all that hard to do, just give him some laced shit when he drops the girl off.  Bet he doesn’t even make it out of the driveway before he is shooting that shit up.  The only problem I see is finding a new clean up man.”

“What about your son? He’s had long enough to sow any wild oats he needed.  It’s time to bring him back into the fold.”

“Brayden?”

“Yeah, do you have another son?”

“Watch yourself, Potter. You’re at the bottom of this barrel, don’t think for one second you have the right or ability to order me around.  As far as Brayden is concerned, with the file I have on him, he won’t have any choice to come back to his family’s open and waiting arms, but now is not the time.  We need those scumbags busy and out of our business.  Brayden playing biker helps that cause; let him have his fun for now, and then when I decide, he will take his rightful place at the head of this table.  Hell, he would be here right now if it wasn’t for Carrington.” 

“Yeah,” the other man who had been relatively quiet until now laughed, “learn your lesson from me old friend, make sure whatever you have on that boy is locked up tight where no one else knows about it, or it will be found.”

“I’m not as trusting as you, old friend,” he said snidely.  “I don’t keep all my cards in one place like you so foolishly did.  It’s taken care of just like the tape from tonight will be, safe in my hands.  Isn’t Carrington up in Lexington now playing the big shot lawyer or something?  Saving the masses with her fancy degree?”

“Yeah, she is, and that’s where she’s going to stay.  It’s also the only reason I agreed to these shipments; if she were still in town, then that fucker Dillion Tucker would be all up in our shit.  The information she stole from me to gain her so called freedom has almost run its course, pretty soon it won’t matter if she does turn it over to the authorities.   The crimes committed can’t be proven if all the evidence but the tapes has been destroyed.  Even if she did present the tapes, they could be easily proven to be falsified, Carrington hasn’t exactly been quiet about her distaste for the family.”

Reagan sat there listening to the men knowing what she needed to do, but not knowing how to pull it off.  She needed that tape, and she had to get the file he had on Brayden.  Then she needed to get Lexie and put her in a safe place. There was only one man she knew who could help her with that, Tuck.  Creeping around the cabin, staying beneath the windows and well away from the fire pit, Reagan made her way to the front.  In the driveway were three cars and her brother’s beat up truck.  Living in Defiance all her life, she knew exactly who owned each of the cars. 

Making her way to the Mercedes, she prayed it would be unlocked, her luck held out again.  If the car alarm had gone off, she would’ve had to run, and since Bobby was already outside and just around the corner, Reagan knew she would have never made it to the woods in time.  Cracking the door, she reached her arm in and pushed the button that opened the trunk.  Hoping she wasn’t making possibly the biggest mistake of her life, she climbed in and made herself comfortable. 

It didn’t take long before the car was moving.  Reagan hoped the man did as he said and was going to drop off the tape.  She needed it, then she could turn it over to the FBI or hell, anyone from outside of Defiance.  If the information he had on Brayden was there as well that would be a bonus.  Brayden might not be the best guy, but ultimately, Reagan loved him, always had, and she was pretty sure, always would.  She would find a way to give the information to him or Tuck, so his father could no longer pull his strings.

Her impromptu trunk trip hadn’t taken long; once the car stopped, Reagan waited for a while and then used the release button inside the trunk.  She kept her hand on the button so the light wouldn’t show, and she would be able to see where she was and if anyone was watching.  Looking around, she recognized where she was instantly.  It was a storage place not far from her apartment.  She even had a unit here.  The one thing she didn’t see was the man.  Crawling about, trying to be as careful as possible, Reagan made her way to the ground and closed the trunk. 

Looking around, there was one door that was slightly open; walking to the door, she made a note of the number and quickly walked by.  No one came out, so she walked back to the unit, using her finger to open the door a little wider.  This wasn’t one of the units with a garage door on it, it only had a regular door. Reagan wanted to laugh because this monster was keeping snuff tapes in a room even an amateur could break into. 

The facility boasted high security and monitoring twenty-four seven, but she knew the truth.  The cameras were for show, and the monitoring consisted of the codes that were entered into the card reader when you drove into the place.  She knew all this because the storage facility was a client, and she saw every bill they paid, even asked at one time if they should be paying a security company.  That’s when Barney Roberts explained the set up to her.  Reagan hadn’t moved her stuff out because, let’s get real, none of it was worth anything to anyone other than her, but she had negotiated a lower rate with Barney. 

Looking into the small room, Reagan watched as the man put the CD and a thumb drive into a filing cabinet and locked the drawer.  Taking that as her cue to get out of Dodge, Reagan ran down to her own unit, opening it, and shutting herself in.  Searching around in a few boxes, she found what she was looking for. Opening the door, she acted like she was right where she was supposed to be and started walking toward the exit, and the storage room she needed to get into.  The Mercedes was gone, so Reagan felt relatively safe.  Pulling her coat down over her hands so she wouldn’t leave any finger prints behind, she got to work.

Using the screwdriver from her storage locker, she undid the little place blocking the latch bolt.  The wood was old, thin, and worn, so it didn’t take her long to remove the four screws.  Placing the plate and screws in her pocket, Reagan took the metal bookmark out of her pocket and inserted into the gap.  What the people renting these units didn’t know was that although the locks looked like dead bolts, they weren’t.  The latch bolt moved just like a regular door, releasing its hold and allowing Reagan in.   

The room was filled with old metal filing cabinets, and Reagan was almost afraid about what she would find but for now, she just needed two things.  Going to the cabinet she had seen the man lock, she once again took her book mark, placed it into the spot on the top drawer between the drawer and the frame. Wiggling it to the left, she kept on moving slowly, but firmly until she was able to release the latch.  Opening the drawer, she saw at least a hundred CDs, there would be no way to make sure she grabbed the right one.  The thumb drive also had a bunch of friends.  Shit, this wasn’t good.  Grabbing one, she noticed that all the thumb drives were the same brand and type.  The kind anyone could pick up at the local Walmart or Best Buy.  Grabbing one on top, Reagan left the room, locking it on the way out, then replaced the plate leaving two of the four screws out. Running back to her apartment she made a call.

“Tuck, I’m in trouble, can you help?”