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Once back at the clubhouse, Trig takes off to wherever Trig’s been taking off to, and I wait for Moretti to head home. I break into his office and go through his desk. I find some information that I don’t quite understand and it doesn’t sit well.

I find girls’ names and then numbers beside them, drivers’ licenses, and social security numbers. Odd shit that he has no business having. I pull out my phone and take pictures and then put everything back the way I found it. Once I shut the door, I turn around to see none other than Nugget sitting on the couch.

He just stares at me, leaning over.

I don’t move, and he doesn’t say anything, and then I snap my fingers. Still nothing.

Walking over to him, I notice his arm is tied and a needle is sticking out. “Jesus Christ, you’re doing the fucking heroin?” I take a picture of that, too.

I leave and go home.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Sweep

I stand outside Bones’ bar, hitting my smoke as the cold Jersey wind sweeps across my face. I’ve searched everywhere for Bones. The cops have, too, only because Moretti is paying them otherwise. They don’t give a fuck about Danny O’Brien, and it helps that Bexley’s uncle has filed a missing person’s report.

How can he just disappear? Both him and Bex? Did they plan this? Would he do this and not tell me? He’s always had it bad for the girl. He’d mentioned getting out of this lifestyle when Mickey got popped, but I just can’t see him not telling me.

We’re boys. We’re brothers. I’ve had this guy by my side since we were kids.

A few people walk into the bar. “’Sup, Sweep? Sorry about Bones, man.”

I nod, hitting the joint between my fingers as I lean back against the wall, my eyes going to the concrete below me when I hear a truck pull up.

Trig gets out. “Why are you standing out here in the cold, man?” he asks.

“Too many fucking people in there,” I say, passing him the joint.

He nods. “You and your introverted ass.”

I shrug, looking at his boots. “Have you been playing in the mud?”

He looks down, too, blowing smoke. “Nah, went out to my dad’s old hunting cabin.”

“What the fuck for?” I ask, looking at his truck and seeing the tires are caked also.

“Needed some space.”

“From what?”

“You sure are nosy all of a sudden,” he says to me.

“Just never known you to need space.”

“What, you’re the only one who can be secluded?”

I shrug. “Whatever.”

“Anything new come up about our boy?” he asks moments later.

“No. Still nothing.”

I want to go into more detail about it with him, but honestly, Trig has been acting weird lately and disappearing for hours at a time. Now he comes here with mud on his tires and boots. I didn’t even know his dad had a cabin.

Wait?I didn’t even know about his dad.

“You said your dad?” I ask.