Dark Secret
Page 6
I push my way out the front door of the office, and there, leaning against my car, is the object of my anger. Wyatt’s arms are folded across his chest as he scowls at me.
“I thought you left,” I bite out through clenched teeth.
“Well, I can’t exactly walk home from here now, can I?”
I unlock just the driver’s side door and open it. “I don’t give a fuck what you do, Wyatt. You can fly home with a broomstick up your ass for all I care.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him a chance to finish. Dropping down into the driver's seat, I slam the door, closing me off to whatever he was saying. His hand is on the passenger’s side door handle, giving it a tug, but it’s still locked.
“Shelby, open the damn door.” He knocks on the window, meeting my eyes through the glass. “I get it, you’re pissed, but I’m pissed too. I’m pissed about so many things right now, and I don’t have a fucking clue how to ignore it until we find Hayden. But I’m trying, okay? Which is more than you’ve ever allowed me to do before.”
Starting the engine, I grip the steering wheel as he talks. And then, my own thought from a few minutes ago comes floating back through my mind like a taunt. A parent needs to swallow down those feelings and do whatever it takes to be the best they can be for their kids.
“Fuck,” I growl as I jab my finger down on the button to unlock the door.
Once inside, he mutters, “Thank you,” not sounding very thankful at all.
“Sitting here arguing with each other isn’t getting Hayden home any quicker.”
Wyatt stews in his own frustrations most of the way home, but even I can’t be so lucky as for him to stay quiet the entire way.
“How could you keep this from me, Shelby?” His voice is filled with both raw pain and anger. “You knew I wanted a family. You knew I wanted to have kids someday. You knew I wanted to do all of that with you.”
I turn onto Lorna’s street, trying to restrain myself from going any faster. “Wyatt, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t ask questions? Don’t wonder? Don’t expect a fucking answer?”
My jaw’s clenched so tight, pain radiates throughout it, and my blood feels like it may boil over at any moment. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want truthful answers to.”
Throwing his head back, he belts out the most humorless laugh I’ve ever heard, but I ignore him as I pull up in front of Lorna’s house. I need to get away from him. I need to put an end to this discussion.
As soon as the car comes to a stop, I throw it in park and get out, speed walking toward the front door before Wyatt can even put one foot on the ground. “You wouldn’t know truth if it jumped up and bit you on the ass!” he hollers at my back.
Those words stop me in my tracks. This man is preaching to me about truth? The same man who knocked me up and had a threesome with a pair of skanks? Fuck that.
Turning slowly, I make sure his gaze is locked with mine before I speak. I speak slowly and clearly, my words like a sharp sword, aimed and ready for battle. “You want to know the real truth, Wyatt? You want to know why I didn’t tell you about Hayden?”
He stands frozen in place, his eyes never leaving mine. I think back to the day I’d tried to call him. Hayden was only three days old, and I hadn’t slept for any of it. My conscience had gotten the better of me, and I had picked up the phone.
But it wasn’t Wyatt who answered—it was Layla. We all grew up together, and I knew her voice. I never left a message. Hell, I never said a word. I just hung up, unable to believe what had happened to the life I’d so desperately wanted.
“You made your choice before I ever left. You chose that club, that family. You chose to live a life I never wanted.”
“You supported me while I was prospecting. What the hell changed?”
“You,” I snap back. “You changed. You changed into the kind of man who should never have a child. The kind of man who would make a terrible father, and an even worse partner. You’re the last man on earth I’d want helping me raise my child. Hayden deserves better than someone like you as a father.”
My words hit their mark. I know it the instant his shoulders drop that I’d struck a mortal blow. He stares at me with so much hurt and confusion, I almost want to take my words and stuff them back into my mouth. But once something like that is spoken, it can never be unheard.
“I’ll let you know what I find out,” he says, his eyes dropping to the ground in front of me. “You let me know if you hear anything.”
With my lips pressed together, I can only manage a nod as he turns and swings his leg over his motorcycle. It’s not until he rides out of sight that I realize I may have won that argument, but it was at Wyatt’s expense. I broke something there. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut.
Hashtag
The last man on earth that she’d want helping her raise her child. Someone like you.
Shelby’s harsh words rattle inside my head as I ride back to the clubhouse.
I’m not perfect, and she knew that all those years ago. I didn’t give a shit about what people thought of me. I had enough of those lectures from my foster parents to last me a lifetime. They saw a troubled boy itching for trouble, not the intelligent child who was begging to be given the same opportunities as every other kid. Too smart for my own good, yet too poor to be successful.
But Judge didn’t see me that way. He saw my potential, and gave me the tools I needed to succeed. No matter how many people tried to tell me I was a fucking idiot for prospecting for the Black Hoods, it was, and still is, the right decision for me. This club, and the men in it, changed my life.
They’re my home.
My family.
The one thing I wanted most in the world—to belong to something bigger. To just belong.
Yet in a single sentence, Shelby had me reeling in anger, second-guessing every single fucking decision I’ve ever made. Would she have stuck around and allowed me to be in my daughter’s life if I was more like everyone else? A normal man with a normal life? A mind-numbing, meaningless existence with a big house, white picket fence, and an HOA?
Fuck normal. Fuck her.
I am who I am, and if that makes me a shitty candidate for fatherhood, she probably should have thought about that before dating a guy like me, let alone fucking me for three solid years up to that point. She knew the risk, we both did, but that sure as hell didn’t stop her from hopping into bed with me.
I pull into the clubhouse and park my Harley near the rear entrance. The place is as silent as the grave, which is normal for this time of day. Most of the guys have side gigs they work on when the club hits a slow period. The only bike that sits in the parking lot is Judge’s. With another look around to see if the coast is clear, I head over to the makeshift shooting range near the edge of the property.
Near a patio table at the edge of the range sits several boxes of empty beer bottles. I finger a few of them and walk down to the fence row, placing five on the top before walking back to the table. Retrieving my gun from the back of my jeans, I fire a shot. It ricochets off the rocky wall behind the fence post.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, firing another. It misses again. I rapid fire three more shots, but only one hits its mark.
A crunch of gravel sounds from behind me as I pull my extra magazine from my holder and load it in. I rack the slide back when Judge appears next to me.
“Nice shooting,” he mutters sarcastically. “Your aim still needs work.”
I ignore him, firing off a couple more rounds, and finally take out one of the beer bottles, shattering it to bits.
“Something on your mind, Hash?” Pulling out his own gun, he fires off four quick shots, breaking the remaining bottles.
“Why would there be?” I go back to the empty beer case and retrieve another five bottles. I take my time putting them where they need to go, repeating what I did with the first set. Finally, I return back to the head of the range where Judge still stands.
He’s not wrong. I may not be a dead shot like the other guys, but there’s something therapeutic about it, like controlled destruction in an already chaotic world. It clears my mind and lets me focus on the problem in front of me. I wish that was the case for Hayden and Shelby. There aren’t enough bottles in the world to help me calm the raging storm inside of me when it comes to Shelby.
His boots crunch into the gravel. Shit. He’s not leaving.
“Hit a couple of brick walls with tracking down my daughter,” I grumble, firing several shots back to back, my rage spilling over the edge with each one. “It’s being worked out.”
“You were always a shit liar, Wyatt. The longer you keep sitting on that powder keg inside your head, the worse it’ll be when you explode. Get it out, son.”
“Hayden had been playing an online game. I found a message that leads me to believe she was meeting up with another player that day. The user was wiped from her system.”
“What’s the problem, then? Do that computer wizardry shit you do and get the guy’s information.”
“It’s not that simple. Games like this are huge, with millions of players in one online space. The only way I can get that information is by subpoenaing the developer who hosts it.”
“Go talk to another attorney. Club’s been needing to hire a new one since Gary quit practicing a few years back. We’ll pay for it.”
“We went to see one this morning who’s an old friend of Shelby’s. One who used to frequent the club back in my prospecting days.”
“The mouthy brunette?” he inquires. “Skinny little thing with no tits?”
“That’s the one. I walked right into her office without a fucking clue as to who we were meeting.”
“That girl was always a thorn in my side whenever she came to the clubhouse. She stirred up the hang-arounds and the guys,” Judge chuckles. “Hell, you damn near lost the patch vote because of her. A couple of the guys were on the fence, wondering if she’d be sticking around if we patched you.”
“Trust me, if she and Shelby weren’t a package deal back then, I’d have helped you throw her ass out.” Right into a barrel of starving piranhas. Though knowing she was a part of Shelby’s escape plan, piranhas would be too merciful.
“Did she refuse to help you?”
“She was a cold-hearted bitch about it, but she’s going to help,” I answer flatly.
“Then I guess I have to ask: what’s the problem? Seems like tracking down your daughter is progressing.”
“It’s Shelby. One second, we’re a united front. Next thing I know, I’m public enemy number one.”
“Fuck Shelby.”
I arch an eyebrow at him.
“That shit between you and her doesn’t matter, dumbass. You need to focus on finding your kid.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” I huff, tossing my arms up in the air. “But one conversation with her is like having knives driven under my fingernails. I can’t move past it.”
Judge shakes his head and looks to the ground. “Take it from an old man. Women and bitches come and go, but blood means everything. That connection means fucking everything. Not one person in the world can take that away from your kid, not even her mother.”
“You speaking from experience, Prez?”
“I had a son once. Best damn thing that could’ve ever happened to me. The second he took his first breath, it was like everything inside of me lived for him.”
“What happened?”
“He died forty-three days after he was born from SIDS.” Judge aims his gun and blows three more bottles to bits. When he’s done, he continues. “Happened when I was out on a ride with the club in my prospecting days. My ex buried him before I got back. To this day, I don’t even know where his grave is. Won’t ever know. She took his location with her to her grave a few years back.”
“Shit, man. I had no idea.”
“No one does, and it better stay that way.”
“Sure, Judge.”
Clapping his large hand on my shoulder, he squeezes it hard. “Your daughter needs you to find her, and you’re the best shot she has. All this shit with her mom, forget about it. Shove it aside. Use that anger inside of you to focus on what you need to do. That’s how you find her.”
Without another word, he releases me and walks away from the range, leaving me alone. I aim my gun, but it falls against my side.
The system failed me the second they put me into foster care after my druggie of a mom overdosed in a Wendy’s parking lot, with me in the back seat. I can’t change that, but I can change Hayden’s fate.
I can’t fail her. Not now, not ever. Failure isn’t an option.
Shelby
“Well, as I live and breathe,” Lorna cries from the front porch. “Would you look at you, girl! Come and give me a hug.”
The sounds of Lorna greeting Kasey float throughout the house, and I stand from my place at the kitchen table, where I’d been unsuccessfully making phone call after phone call to more kids from Hayden’s class, hoping they’d heard from her.
“She’s right in here.” Lorna’s high-pitched voice alerts me that they’re on their way.
Lorna enters the kitchen first, and Kasey shoots me an apologetic smile as she comes in behind her.
“Sorry to burst in on you ladies.” Kasey wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me into a hug. I don’t hug her back. It’s been less than twelve hours since I’d seen her last, which means she likely has news. With so little time having passed, I’m not betting that it’s good news.
“I heard back from Judge Onstein just a little while ago,” she says, taking my hands in hers. “It took a little convincing, but he was sympathetic to the situation. He made the phone calls himself, and Blox World has already been served papers, and has been instructed to send over the information you were looking for as soon as possible.”
I can only gape at her. “Isn’t that too easy?”
She grins. “Not when your husband’s uncle is a Supreme Court Judge. I just hope they don’t take their sweet time getting those files into our hands, and that once we have them, there’s something there that will help us find Hayden."
My face crumples as my daughter’s name leaves her lips. “Oh, Kasey,” I cry. “What if we can’t find her?”
Lorna pulls me into a hug as Kasey crosses her arms over her chest, glaring down her nose at me. “Uh-uh, not happening. Not yesterday, and not today. There won’t be any pity party on my watch. You want to crumble? You do it after Hayden’s safe in her bed. All that fear you have going on in there right now, save it. It’s not the time.”
Lorna holds me tighter, attempting to shield me from Kasey’s words. “Her daughter is missing,” she admonishes, lowering her voice on the last word as if it’s too filthy to say aloud.
“Yes, she is,” Kasey agrees, placing one hand on my back, and the other on Lorna’s. “And she needs her momma to keep it together.”
I sniff, knowing full well she’s right. “I’m so tired of crying all the damn time,” I tell them both.
“Then don’t.” Kasey has no clue what it’s like to have a daughter missing. Hell, she doesn’t even have kids.
“Honey,” Lorna interrupts. “You wanna cry, you cry. You wanna yell, you yell. You want to punch somebody …” She trails off. “Punch Miss Kasey here.”
“Hey!” Kasey cries, a smile spreading across her face. I can’t help but chuckle.
“I like that idea.”
She laughs. “Figures you would.”
Lorna gives me a squeeze and pulls away, wiping at a few stray tears. “I think this calls for a stiff drink. What do you girls think?”
Kasey and I lock eyes over Lorna’s head, our eyebrows raised high. As one, we burst into full-blown, belly shaking laughter. Lorna jumps a little at
the sudden noise, looking first at Kasey, and then at me, confusion twisting her withered face. And then she joins us, her joyous cackle making us laugh even harder.
I laugh so hard, my lungs hurt. But the lack of oxygen doesn’t even matter. The past couple of days have been the hardest days of my life. Fear had overwhelmed me, nearly breaking my spirit. But when strait-laced Lorna suggested a stiff drink, the laughter that followed was a blessed relief.
“You girls are just as crazy as you were when you were sixteen years old,” she declares, stalking to the cupboard and pulling out three crystal tumblers. “Pick your poison. I’ve got whiskey, vodka, and some vanilla bean moonshine.”
Kasey widens her eyes at me before holding up a hand and calling out, “Moonshine!”
“Moonshine for me too,” I giggle.
We watch in shock as Lorna pulls out a step stool. Climbing to the top, she reaches deep into the cupboard and pulls out a large jug of yellow liquid. Like a professional bartender, she uses tiny silver tongs to place ice cubes into the tumblers and pours the liquid over top.
She hands us our glasses and holds hers up in the air, and I can’t help but notice it holds more moonshine than ours. “Bottoms up.”
“Bottoms up,” we repeat, but Lorna’s already well into chugging hers. So much for moonshine being something you sip. Apparently, Lorna’s become a boozer since my father passed away.
“So, Kasey,” she says, her cheeks already starting to flush from the alcohol. “Have you had a chance to see Wyatt since Shelby’s been around?”
“They came to my office yesterday. It didn’t exactly go well.”
Lorna grins. “You two always were like oil and water.”
Kasey laughs. “Yeah, it didn’t take him long to throw a tantrum and run out in a huff.”
Lorna mulls that over as she finishes her drink. When it’s empty, she sets the tumbler on the counter and leans forward. “But did you get a load of his tush as he walked away?” She wags her eyebrows at us. “That boy has grown up to be quite a man. I’d happily oil him up for a fight.”