I glanced at my bike. On autopilot, I’d removed the key, on impulse, I’d put it back in the ignition, mentally wishing whoever found it good luck, and that they’d get some enjoyment out of it.
I patted the seat. I’d had some good times on this bike, times when I just needed to ride and clear my head. Now though, symbolically, and just like me, the tank was virtually empty.
“Goodbye, old friend,” I whispered quietly.
Double tapping the seat once again, I turned and started to make my way down the beach.
It was a good day for surfing, high breakers were rolling in. Further up where a lifeguard patrolled, the beach looked busy. But not right here. I’d chosen this spot carefully.
My boots left an imprint in the sand, idly my brain wondered how long this last vestige of me would remain.
The sound from the breaking waves was loud, crashing and roaring as they landed on the seashore and then receded as though trying to drag the beach into the water. It was a beautiful day, the sun glinting off the blue ocean, sparkling like stars at night. The wind though, that whipped up sand.
Was that a bike I heard? Not mine, the sound was different to that. No matter, I ignored my idle curiosity and walked closer to the edge, my boots now sinking into the dampened sand.
“Nice day for a swim,” a gravelly voice called out from behind me. “You going in?” The voice drew closer.
“I can’t swim,” I replied automatically.
“You live in California and you can’t fuckin’ swim?” Whoever it was, sounded amused.
I shrugged. Kim had made me build her a pool, but as I’d never learned as a kid, hadn’t used it. I’d grown up poor in a trailer.
“That your bike up there?”
It was. I shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Kind of day it might be better to go for a ride than taking a dive into the ocean.”
I breathed in deep, just wishing the disembodied voice would go away. It sounded like he’d moved even nearer and was standing right behind me, the sound of his boots hitting sand had been inaudible. I’d let the air I’d just taken in out as a sigh. “Tank’s empty,” I told him. Much like me.
“Like that, is it?” There was more of a snap in his voice.
“What’s it to you?” I swung around at last to find I was confronted with a man about the same height as me, with a snake tattoo winding around his neck. He was well muscled, better built than me. I’d maybe got a few more years under my belt, not many though. My eyes took in his leather vest. There was a badge sewn onto it with the word Snake and below that, one that denoted he was the VP.
Instead of answering my question, he asked one of me. “So, you’re just going to walk into the ocean? You think that will be easy, man?” He took out a pack of smokes and offered one to me. As I shook my head, a lighter appeared in one of his hands. He cupped the other around the flame so the wind wouldn’t blow it out, then soon the tip of his cigarette glowed red. I just hoped he’d smoke it fast and leave me alone.
“I wonder what it will feel like?” Snake took a drag and puffed out smoke. “Will your lungs burn, do you think? You’ll want to give up, try not to fight for your life, but some instinct for survival will make you gasp for air, but your mouth and nose will fill with saltwater instead. How long will you last? Will you try to hold on to that final amount of air as your limbs thrash, trying to keep you afloat? Will you regret it when it’s too late? Or, will you give in peacefully? I’ve always wondered what drowning was actually like.”
“What do you care?” I snarled, not much liking the picture he was painting. Wasn’t death by drowning supposed to be easy? The only part I wasn’t looking forward to was the bit where the whole of my life flashed in front of my eyes. I could have done without reminders of that.
His shoulders rose and fell. “Nothing to me, man. Me? I’d prefer a bullet to my head. Quick and painless.”
“I knew a man once. Shot himself. He survived. He was a vegetable, but still, he lived.” I had and he did. I shuddered. With my luck and track record, that would be me.
“I wouldn’t miss,” Snake said, sure of himself. “That’s the way I’d like to go, but hey, that’s my preference.”
I just wanted him to leave, but Snake lowered himself to the ground, and pulled up his knees, getting himself comfortable. I glanced down raising an eyebrow.
“Go on, then.” He jerked his head toward the water.
“What?” Surely, he’d try and stop me?
He nodded toward the ocean. “Never seen a man drown himself before.”
He was proposing to sit there and casually watch me die? I gritted my teeth. “Kind of wanted to do this alone.”
Snake shrugged again. “Seems it’s shouldn’t matter to you. I won’t interfere.” He waved his hand toward the ocean. “You go do your thing. Don’t worry about me.”
I had no fucking idea why, but the thought that he was going to be sitting, smoking, observing, as I took my final breath made it impossible for me to turn and walk into the ocean.
Perhaps, if I waited long enough, he’d get bored and leave.
But it seemed he could read minds. “Take your time. I’ve got no place to be.”
Fuck it.
The waves continued to crash onto the beach. Minutes passed with no further word from him or me.
Damn. Why, I didn’t know. I’d reached the end of my tether. There was no way back, but I couldn’t end my life with an audience, which made no damn fucking sense.
With a large exhaled breath I started stomping my way up the beach, idly wondering how far the fumes in my tank were going to take me.
“Hey, wait up.”
Angrily, I paused. Hadn’t he ruined my life enough for one day? Or, to be more precise, my death.
“Get on your bike and follow me.”
I was about to tell him to get lost, when I realised, for the first time in weeks, months, maybe, someone was giving me a direction in which to head.
I laughed, mirthlessly. “Don’t know what destination you’ve got in mind, but doubt I’ll get there.” I tapped my tank. “No gas.”
“Gas station ‘bout a mile away.”
Wishing I could swallow the bile that rose with my admission, I said tersely, “No money.”
“Take it as an advance.”
I looked at him as if he’d gone mad.
For the hundredth time, he shrugged. “Prospects don’t get much. They get a place to sleep, food to eat. Have to do all the shit jobs. Of course, we’ll need to check you out first, but if you pass and will give everything you’ve got to the club, we’ll have your back.” His face grew serious and stern. “You’ve gotta be prepared to die for the club man, but hey, you were prepared to do that for less.” Another expression change, this time to a grin. “Well, Lost, what have you got to lose?”
“Lost?”
“Never seen a man looking more fuckin’ lost before. Guess you’ve picked up a road name already.”
I owed everything to Snake from that point on. While I didn’t know it right then, he’d given me a reason to live, and I repaid him by giving my all to the club. I’d lost everything that was important to me, but thanks to him, I did find something worth dying for. Brothers who had my back which, in turn, restored my desire for life.
Raising the bottle to my lips again, feeling the burn of the liquor smoothing its way down my throat, I muse. It hadn’t bothered Snake at all that day. As I’d come to know him, I’d realised he’d have watched me walk into that ocean without lifting a finger to save me. That cigarette would have been smoked down to the stub as he’d watched me drown, just like a rat in a science experiment.
Had he set me up from that day?
No. I’ve thought about it a lot. He’d known nothing about me then. But as he came to know my history, he knew I’d be useful to him. When the Prez had died five years back, Snake had taken his place, and I’d become his perfect patsy as VP.
And, as always, I’d fucked up.
My only excu
se in not seeing Snake had gone bad was down to how much I owed him. I hadn’t consciously turned a blind eye, but certainly hadn’t lifted the carpet to see what might have been swept underneath. I’d given the man my complete trust, probably influenced that he, a decade and a half earlier, had breathed life back into me. I’d trusted him, not knowing I was putting my faith in the wrong man.
When Snake had turned against the club, I’d been one of the last people to believe it.
Chapter Sixteen
Lost
After finishing what was left in the bottle, I had fallen into an alcohol-induced and thankfully dreamless sleep.
I’m woken by a loud banging on the door, and someone trying the handle. Won’t work. I locked it last night.
Why?
Christ. I groan as the events of yesterday come back into my head, and the memory of how much I fucked up with Patsy. Gotta apologise. Yeah, give her the old ‘it’s not you it’s me’ talk.
“Lost, Brother, you there?” The doorknob rattles again.
I swing my legs off the bed. Fuck, my head hurts. With a glare toward the whisky bottle as though it’s its fault I drank it, I lurch to the door, then when it’s open, lean against the frame.
“Wow, Brother.” Dart steps back, wafting the air away with his hand. “Laid one on last night, didn’t you? You fuckin’ reek.”
I glance down at my t-shirt where most of the spilled whisky landed. “Too much, yeah, but not as much as you’re thinking. I’m wearing most of it.”
Dart chuckles. “Thank fuck. Look, grab a fresh shirt and come downstairs. Token’s got Demon on a secure line. Patsy’s chomping at the bit to talk to Beth, but Demon wanted to speak to us first.”
My VP stays at the door as I walk back into the room, tearing my filthy t-shirt over my head as I do. Opening a drawer, I take a clean one out.
“What’s the time?”
“Ten.”
Fuck. I never sleep so late. Caused by the whisky, obviously. I stretch, then slip my clean shirt over my head, raking my fingers through my hair.
“You look like shit, Brother,” my VP helpfully observes.
It will have to do. No time to take a shower but… “Just give me two minutes and I’ll be down.”
I divert into the bathroom for a much-needed piss, which I do in the unmanly manner of sitting down so I can save time brushing my teeth and getting rid of my whisky-fouled morning breath at the same time.
Ignoring the men using jackhammers in my skull, I race downstairs.
Patsy’s in the clubroom, her eyes widening at my dishevelled state. She looks like she’s hesitating to even speak to me, but in the end can’t stop herself asking tightly, “Beth…?”
I hold up my hand. “Soon, Patsy. Demon needs to update me on something first. I’ll come get you as soon as I can, okay?”
Then ignoring anything else she’s got to say, and having no time to attempt an apology, I head straight for my office.
Token picks up the phone. “Demon said to call him back. We ran out of small talk waiting for you.”
I nod as he hits the numbers. “You know anything?”
“Not yet. Demon wanted to wait for you.”
The call connects.
“Lost?”
“I’m here, along with Dart and Token. What you got, Demon?”
The Colorado prez doesn’t waste time. “Got Beef and Ink here with me as well as Cad.” He pauses, and I hear him take a breath. “As Beth’s the one with the authority to open the safe deposit box on her mother’s behalf, Ink had to bring her in on the fact that we were interested as to what was inside. Well, you know women. She was curious as fuck after Ink told her, so she took the morning off work. Ink and she were at the bank as soon as it opened.”
“You going to tell me there was nothing there?” As usual, I expect to be disappointed. Had to be too simple to get answers straight off the bat.
“Gonna tell you the opposite, Brother. There was shit there. An envelope buried right at the bottom.”
“What was in it? What have you found?” I sit up straighter, my hangover all but forgotten. I notice the sparks of interest in my brothers’ eyes. “Demon, don’t keep us hanging. What have you discovered?”
“Nothing as yet.”
What? “What the fuck d’you mean, Demon? What was it, an empty envelope with nothing inside? Any address written on it?” Anything at-fucking-all would help at this point. But there was something about the way he said it that makes me suspect he’s toying with me. I glare at the phone. “Spit it out, Demon.”
He snorts. It comes down the line clearly. “Not yanking your chain, Brother, just can’t give you much right now. The envelope was tucked into a folder containing Phil’s will. Well, that’s obsolete now, but Patsy had clearly overlooked taking it out. Maybe she didn’t want to take responsibility for it—”
“Demon,” I growl.
He puts me out of my misery. “There were three floppy discs inside. Cad’s been working on getting into that shit.”
Floppy discs? I haven’t seen one of those in years. “They password locked or something?” Surely Cad could break that. Token would be able to.
“Hey, Lost, it’s Cad here.” I hear Demon’s tech guy’s voice and raise my chin though he can’t see me. “We’re talking about shit from twenty years back. Had to find what they were written in first, then I had to get Windows 95 emulated on a laptop.”
“And?” Dart prompts, getting as impatient as me.
Token, I notice, looks as excited as a historian would be hearing a description of archaeological finds from an ancient dig. “What did you find, Cad?”
“Not a lot, those discs aren’t capable of holding much shit, a few kilobytes each is all. Just given it to Prez now.”
Demon’s voice comes back on the line. “There’s some shit we need to get our heads around, two plans which we’re trying to decipher. Fuck knows what they are right now. The other is a scanned newspaper article, referring to the disappearance of a group of women. Could be Phil suspected, or knew, Alder had a hand in that. Cad needs to dig into the old records to put the pieces together.”
My headache recedes as my brain kicks into gear. “You reckon he wants that shit, that’s why he’s after Patsy? So she can give him the contents of that envelope? Phil’s insurance policy?”
“Could be just that. Might mean nothing to us, but, yeah, might to him.”
“You think it would get him off her back if she just handed it over?” Is there a simple way to get her free and clear?
Another pause. “Wish it were that easy, Brother. Beef and I have been discussing it. If Alder thinks that she’s been moved under WitSec, then he might think she’s already given it to the feds.”
“In which case it wouldn’t matter whether or not he found her.” I’m trying to join dots, which isn’t easy with my whisky befuddled head, so Demon gets there a bit quicker.
“What if it’s not just what was in the box, but something she has in her head? What if she knows something which Alder doesn’t want her spilling?”
That’s the most likely, but what could she know? From what I’ve seen of her, if she’d come across evidence of wrongdoing, she’d have gone straight to the police. She’d left her husband at the first sniff he’d done something criminal. How could I have blamed her for that?
“Who were the women who disappeared?” I ask. “Any evidence of trafficking?”
“A group of students out on a hike. This is an initial report about them. Not even sure whether they were ever found, but if not, yeah, that’s my bet.”
“Okay.” I try to switch into business mode. “I’ll speak to Patsy. If she knows anything, she doesn’t know she does, if that makes sense. But it’s worth picking her brain. You take any precautions opening that box up?”
Another voice enters the conversation. “Yeah,” comes from Ink. “We took photos of before, after and during. Don’t know if it would stand up in court, but the time stamps are all t
here. We did what we could to avoid accusations of evidence tampering.”
I nod, as Demon says, “Ahead of you, Lost. Right now we don’t know if this is worth anything, but there might come a time when Patsy needs to testify when Foster put the information in there. Ask Patsy about anything that happened around that time, jog her memory. If she watched the news, she might recall something about those girls going missing.”
She might. If she’ll even give me the time of day after what I said to her yesterday. Will she trust a man who set out to seduce her and ended up blaming her for something another woman did?
“I’ll talk to her.” Or get Dart to if she gives me the cold shoulder. “Can you send what you’ve got to Token? I’ll get him working on it as well.”
“Already done,” Cad replies.
“We need to explore both avenues,” Demon states. “These plans must mean something, otherwise, why leave them there? And those girls… there’s something we’re missing. In the meantime, how do we keep Patsy safe? My gut feel is that we relocate her.”
Exactly what I don’t want to do. Surprisingly, I have back up.
“Not a good option,” Ink’s voice sounds down the line. “Beth’s about to talk to her. I won’t bother asking her to keep her news a secret. Even if she tries, I reckon Patsy will guess. It was different when she wasn’t able to speak to her mother, but when she calls her, Beth won’t be able to stop telling her mom that we’re having a baby.”
There’s no point arguing about it. Once Patsy knows she’s going to be a grandmother as an actual fact and not a hypothetical possibility somewhere off in the future, she’s going to want to be there for her daughter. And Beth will need her mom for support. Even if they’re not living in the same place, they’ll want to be able to pick up the phone and talk.
“Beth doesn’t know what we found,” Ink reassures me.
“On that line, it’s up to you how much you tell Patsy,” Demon suggests. “We need to know if she’s got info that can shed light on this shit, so you may need to come clean to her.”
There’s a murmuring of voices in the background.
Being Lost: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #1 Page 17
