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CHAPTER ELEVEN: CHROME

I spent the entire ride back to the clubhouse wanting to kick my own ass. What the fuck is wrong with me? I went over to guard Cicely, not fuck her. What was I thinking?

Arriving at her apartment and discovering she hadn’t come home created scenarios of her out with other men. I could see her moving on, and the thought of someone else being on the receiving end of her laughter and attention made me crazy. So, all I could think of was confronting her when I saw her pull into the parking lot. Being the one she asked to come upstairs and the one she offered to feed calmed me again. I felt whole. But I lost my mind. I didn’t protect her, I made love to her. I claimed her. Then I hurt her.

Knowing I can’t trust myself around her, I head for the clubhouse. When I step inside, I see Mouse sitting at the bar.

“I need you on guard duty.” I give him Cicely’s address and her apartment number. Watch the building and periodically check on her car. Someone slashed her tires, and I don’t want a repeat.”

“I’m on it,” Mouse says.

Knowing she’ll be under guard relieves some of my worry. She’ll be safer, but not as secure as she could be here once I eliminate the traitor.

“Met a friend of yours,” I tell Sammy as I slide onto a stool. “Or, I guess the mother of a friend. Some chick named Margo? She’s a friend of your sister, right?”

“Lisa Kemper? Yeah, Jessica is friends with her stepdaughter, Margo. I met Lisa when she married Margo’s dad, Dr. Kemper. Margo was angry when he remarried. I can’t blame her. Her mother had only been dead for two years. They never found her murderer.”

I lower the beer bottle after taking a swig. “Margo’s mother was murdered?”

Sammy nods. “Yeah, someone broke in. Margo’s mom came home and interrupted the intruder. He shot her.”

“Damn. And the cops never found the guy?”

Sammy shakes his head. “Not that I’ve heard. Dr. Kemper was torn up about it. Lisa was good friends with his late wife and took over his life after her death. Margo thinks her dad should have waited before getting married again.”

I pictured the efficient woman and could imagine her doing just that.

Pipes walks out of the kitchen and jerks his chin at me. I wave him over. Pipes is our oldest prospect and about ready to get patched in. He’s young, just this side of eighteen. Before I let him prospect, he’d been hanging around our clubhouse for several years. His parents hadn’t done him a favor. With the last name of Piper, the last thing you’d name your kid is Peter, but of course, that’s what they’d done. He probably wished he’d earned a different road name, but Pipes stuck.

“Pipes, I need you to do me a favor. Byte from the San Diego chapter is coming in this morning. Need you to arrange a bike for him and bring him back here. Can you manage?”

“On it,” Pipes says, heading away.

“Don’t you want to know what flight he’s coming in on?” I ask with a smirk.

“I’ll figure it out,” he assures me with a wave.

I shake my head. The guy is always working to prove himself. He’s got initiative, and fuck if that isn’t what a President likes to see in his men. Grabbing my beer, I nod to Sammy before heading upstairs to my room. I can get a few hours of sleep before Byte gets in.

I wake in a foul mood after a restless night of dreams, dreams of searching for Cicely but unable to find her. Thankfully, I don’t believe in shit like premonitions. Checking my watch, I realize Byte’s plane has touched down, so he should be on his way to the clubhouse. After a quick shower, I pull on jeans, a t-shirt, and my kutte before heading downstairs.

The clubhouse doors open when I reach the bottom of the stairs. Byte, the tech guru from our San Diego chapter, steps in. He’s trim, not bulky, with long hair and a beard. But instead of looking like a rough biker, he looks more like a hipster dressed as a biker for Halloween. The messenger bag hanging off his shoulder adds to the hipster image. He looks like he got lost on the way to the coffeehouse and found himself in a biker bar instead.

“Byte, glad you made it,” I say, shaking his hand.

“Chrome, where can I store my stuff?” He lifts his duffle bag as he asks.

Turning, I lead him upstairs to the second floor, where we have guest rooms. He drops his duffle bag on the bed before turning to face me. “Dante mentioned I’d be working out of the hospital while protecting Mode. Before we head there, I want to check out a few places. Get a feel for the locations and the potential for cameras.”

“Did you want to rest first?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I slept on the plane. I’d like to get started.”

Outside, he climbs on the loaner and tightens the straps on the messenger bag he has strapped to his chest.

“Where first?” I ask.

“There’s an abandoned warehouse where Fenhua was hanging out. Babe followed him to it. I’m pretty sure they’re gone, but I want to check it out.” He gives me the address.

“Babe didn’t mention the warehouse,” I tell Byte.

“Didn’t he? He mentioned it to Mode. Was talking on the phone with Mode about it when your rat attacked Mode.”

“You think the rat attacked Mode to protect the location?”

Byte shrugs. “I don’t know, but if I had to guess, the rat was protecting the fuckers inside. They rolled out and shot at Babe immediately after Mode went down.” He gives me the address, and we take off. The warehouse is near the docks. As we wind our way to the location, I fume over how little I know about the attack on Mode. Who the fuck knew Babe was following Fenhua? Did he call someone besides Mode? Or did someone overhear the conversation between Babe and Mode? I’m strongly considering the latter when we pull up to a bustling warehouse swarming with workers.

“Thought this place was abandoned,” I say.

“It was. Guess that’s no longer the case. We can’t go in. At least not right now.” Byte glances around the parking lot, before looking at the buildings around us. “We can get going.”

“Where to next?” I ask.

“The office building where they were holding Min,” he says.

“We torched the place,” I remind him.

“Yeah, I just want to drive by before we head to the spot where Fenhua escaped from your VP.”

I led the way to the office building. Byte doesn’t stop but gestures for us to continue. I pull over when we reach the spot where we found Scorch and Trigger. Byte stands at the roadside while I scoot down the embankment. It had been dark the night we came across Scorch and Trigger. I hadn’t had a chance to look around. I wondered if Scorch did when he claimed the SUV. I frown over the shallow tracks. Was Scorch already unconscious? Maybe. The embankment has minor damage, so perhaps the SUV rolled rather than crashed.

As I climb to the road, I spot something in the grass. A flash of bright blue catches my eye. Reaching down, I pick up a broken piece of hard plastic. It’s smooth on one side and rougher on the other. The smooth side has swirls of blue and gray, while the other side is blank. Byte steps over as I study it. I swear I’ve seen the pattern before, but can’t place it.

“What have you got?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s a piece of a bike helmet,” I tell him.

“Recognize it? Does it belong to one of your guys?”

I shake my head. “Nah, my guys all have black helmets. No designs. But I think I’ve seen a member of the Asian gang wearing something like this. They ride those crotch rockets in bright colors.”

“Asians could mean Triad,” Byte offers. “Maybe your guys got in a hit and cracked a helmet. Did they mention getting ambushed by bikers?”

“No, neither remembers much from that night. Scorch thinks he and Trigger were drugged. Stitch said the drugs could be fucking with their memories.”

“I’ve seen enough. We can head to the hospital now,” Byte says.

I consider letting Byte find his way to Mode’s room, anything to avoid confronting Cicely. But I curse at myself for being a chickenshit. I spotted Cicely entering the room next to Mode’s when we reached the ICU. I leave Byte to connect with the Nomads while I wait for Cicely near her station. I’m close enough to the room to hear Cicely speaking with someone inside.

“Maybe that’s what he needs,” Cicely says. “Have you learned anything more about his accident?”

“I spoke to the man who found him, and he told me where he found him. I’m driving there later to see if I can spot his bike. I’m guessing he had an accident, although the doctor said he didn’t have road burns.”

“No, he didn’t. Just a bash on the head. Wouldn’t he have been wearing a helmet?”

“Blue never rode without a helmet. He had an expensive one. One that we designed.”

“So, he wasn’t wearing his helmet when knocked unconscious,” Cicely muses.

“You’re right. He must have pulled to the side of the road and removed his helmet. Why would he do that? Especially there? There’s nothing at the location.”

“Where was it?”

“Highway 41 between 87th and 89th,” Gray says.

“When was this?” I ask, standing at the door.

The man looks at me with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You mentioned Highway 41. Was that where they found your friend?” He nods. “When?”