Page 2 of Cuckoo (Devil’s Murder MC #7)

“ W hat the fuck are you wearing?”

Fuck. That question never got old. I enjoyed it just as much every time someone checked out one of my costumes or outfits and decided to comment on it. Hell, it was the highlight of my day. It never failed to make me smile.

“Why? You want to pet my cock?”

Carrion snorted from the shadows. I nearly missed his big ass hiding out in the corner of the bar like usual.

He was one of the tallest brothers in the club, and when he slipped into the light, it was always a bit jarring to see, especially since he usually had his crow perched on his right shoulder.

Raven shot me a look like his infant son could understand anything we said, including profanity or sexual innuendo. The baby was asleep in his lap anyway.

Crow shook his head, pouring a shot of whiskey. He tossed it back, smirking before he pushed the bottle aside and leaned back against the bar top.

Hawk snickered as he continued playing Solitaire. I watched him place a few cards down on the table. Hawk never glanced up, just kept slapping down more cards, but I knew he was tuned in to everything around him.

Talon folded his arms and ticked his chin my way. “Seriously? Why the rubber rooster?”

“Why not?” I countered, kicking out my boots as I leaned back in my chair. I was bored. Honestly, that was part of the reason I pulled out this particular hat when I woke up. It was a conversation piece.

Talon shrugged. “It’s a bit, uh, flashier than usual.” He gestured to the masterpiece I’d put together to compliment my cock hat.

Since the rooster was bright yellow and red, I found a polka dot shirt with a white background and bold colored dots all over it.

I wore my cut over it, but I decided on black leather pants with flashy silver zippers, tons of pockets, and my red steel-toed boots.

For fun, I added a red Superman cape. It attached easily to my cut since I fastened leather strips with Velcro around the shoulders and neck, then added Velcro to the cape.

Boom! Fucking badass. I found silver cuffs on Amazon that reminded me of Wonder Woman’s and finished the ensemble with the fake metal bracelets. I fucking loved them.

Who said jewelry wasn’t masculine? Not me. Ever.

“I like to stand out,” I deadpanned.

Crow laughed. “And you do, brother.”

“It’s fucking fantastic,” Heron added as he squeezed my rooster, and it squealed. Loud.

“And here I thought no one would appreciate my cock today.”

Several groans could be heard from my brothers.

“You know, if Rael were here, he would be enjoying this way more than all you fuckers,” I pointed out, wishing I’d texted him and sent an invite.

Rael was my partner in crime and the S.A.A. for the Graven Bastards MC Tonopah, Nevada Chapter. Our club and theirs went back to the founding days when we put down roots in Henderson, Nevada.

“Yeah, I bet he would right before we kicked both of your crazy asses out of the clubhouse for the night,” Raven observed.

He had a point. Still. “You’re so fucking mean.”

Raven chuckled. “Yeah, but you’re not offended.”

Nope. Took a lot to piss me off. None of these men here ever bothered or annoyed me. I’d seen, heard, and experienced much worse in my youth.

Besides, the Roost, our clubhouse, was home.

And the men gathered in the bar were my family.

I found them at the lowest point in my life.

Rook, Crow’s father, and the former president was like a parent to me.

He stepped into my life and made it worth living again.

I owed this club everything and would spill my blood for it. No questions asked.

My gaze swept over the room and the rare moment when the club members gathered together alone outside of church. The ol’ ladies had taken a spa day, and that left us time to shoot pool, drink, and get into trouble.

Raven wouldn’t do much except stare at his adopted son. Of course, not a soul here would ever say that boy wasn’t his. DNA didn’t mean shit. He loved and cared for that child and would raise and protect him as a father should.

I hoped one day, I would get the chance to do the same.

I had a shit example of a father figure growing up, but one thing I learned since patching into the Devil’s Murder MC was that your past didn’t dictate your future.

Almost every man here overcame serious obstacles, trauma, and violence before they arrived at the Roost. We lived by our own rules and carved our fate with blood.

Outside, I heard caw...caw . My crow agreed.

Of course, we were no ordinary men. With the unique ability to merge with crows, we all had different ways we bonded with our crows.

Some of us could fully shift into the crow.

Others could tap into their ability to see high above the ground or send them mobbing when a threat appeared.

Hawk could partially shift. Crow could control a whole murder at once.

Heron had the combined DNA of a phoenix, which meant he could literally rise from ashes. He did once.

And me? Well, as a kid, I’d been confused. Heron and I had a similar experience in that we didn’t have parents to help guide us through the process of growing up with and bonding with our crows. It sucked.

Heron floundered, growing angry, distrustful, and bitter when his adoptive parents died, and he was left to find his birth parents with little more than a thin connection to the past. He finally did after meeting his mate, Rebel. It was a hard road for him, but the club helped.

My experience was vastly different. I didn’t give a fuck about my biological parents or why they chose not to keep me. I was placed in foster care the same day I was born. No one came looking, and no one gave a fuck.

Not until I met a little girl with big brown eyes, long braided hair, and glasses. Katrina, my foster sister. Just thinking of her sent a fresh wave of pain through my heart. She was ripped from my life, and when she left, she took my humanity and joy with her.

I became a heartbroken, angry, withdrawn teen in her absence. Her smile had been the only light in the darkness. If I thought shit was bad when she was around, it was ten times fucking worse without my angel.

Twelve years. That was how long it had been since I last saw her. I missed her every fucking day.

Unable to resist, I reached into my cut and pulled my wallet free. Inside, faded and creased, was a single photograph. A glimpse of a Halloween night that would forever live in my memory. It was the last sunset I ever saw with Katrina.

Staring into her warm brown eyes, I smiled. She was only thirteen but already beautiful. It took her forever to decide on a costume that year, but she finally settled on a pirate.

I stood beside her with the setting sun behind us, both of us dressed for Beggar’s Night. We always went trick-or-treating together. After eight years of sticking together like glue, we never missed a chance to get all that candy.

My arm was slung around her shoulders as she laughed.

I wore a combination of costumes since she thought it was hilarious.

To this day, I still switch things up because it reminds me of her and those times when we could be kids, laugh, and not be afraid of what the night would bring.

I wore a zombie and Superman combo. Epic.

My thumb brushed over the image of the two of us, wishing I knew what happened to her. Was she adopted? Did she leave the state? Where was Katrina now? Was she happily married with kids?

Fuck. I didn’t want to think of her with anyone else. It was stupid and strange, but I always felt like Katrina was mine. The idea of her living with another man, wearing his ring, or having his children pissed me off.

I shoved the photo back into my wallet and stuffed it inside the inner pocket of my cut. Reaching for a cold beer, I popped the top and took a long pull, hoping to dull the pain that always surfaced when I thought of Katrina.

“Hey, Cuckoo.” Eagle Eye took the empty seat across from me and leaned his elbows on the table.

“Eagle Eye,” I greeted him, not bothering to remove the grit from my tone.

“Your crow is fucking agitated.”

Huh? I blinked, feeling the link between us. Sure enough, my crow was squawking outside, belting out caws, and hopping from the ground to the roof and back again. He didn’t like me retreating into my head and tuning him or my club out.

It wasn’t intentional, but sometimes, I had to block everything in my head so I didn’t lose my shit.

It didn’t matter if that meant my crow or the club or the whole fucking world.

That was why I often used humor to deflect; I didn’t like anyone looking too closely or trying to figure me out.

I had dark, evil shit in my past. It needed to stay there.

“I’ve got him under control.”

Once I tapped into our connection again, my crow calmed—a little.

Eagle Eye snorted. “Sure.” He sat back, staring at me like he was waiting for something.

“Don’t start prying,” I warned.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t. Just thought I would offer my services in case you needed anything.”

“What do you mean?” I growled, shoving my empty beer bottle aside.

“I’ve seen you look at that old photo a lot, brother. If there’s someone you want or need to locate, I can do it.”

“And if I don’t want anyone to know about it?”

“I won’t say a fucking word, Cuckoo.”

“Even to Crow?” I pressed.

“Hell, if Pres asks, it’s his right to know.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just Crow. No one else.”

Eagle Eye stood. “Come on.”

“Right now?” I asked, surprised he wanted to get right to it.

“No time like the present.”

Yeah. He was right. Why delay?

I joined him in his office and shut the door for privacy. Eagle Eye had multiple monitors and keyboards, tech shit I would never understand or learn how to use. “What do you need to know?” Dropping onto the seat of one of his chairs, I faced him.

He sat in his chair and scooted to the desk, clicking keys as we spoke. “Give me everything you remember.”

I remembered everyfuckingthing . Of course, I didn’t say that.

“Katrina Simmons. Last name is probably different now. Born April tenth, twenty-five years ago. She was a foster kid and entered the system at age five. Lost both parents when a drunk driver struck the vehicle on the highway. No living relatives. Might have been adopted around age thirteen to eighteen. Not sure.”

“That’s a good start. Physical description?”

I closed my eyes, picturing her image in the photo. “Brown hair and eyes. She kept it long. Glasses. Cute little nose and light freckles. Petite.”

“That should do it.”

I nodded, blinking as I opened my eyes. “How long will it take to find her?”

“Given the specific parameters I have from you, hopefully not long. You’re welcome to leave, and I’ll text you when I have something.”

I considered it but declined. “I’ll only get anxious if I walk out that door.”

“I get it. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

“Twelve years.”

“Damn.” He cleared his throat. “You sure she wants to be found?”

I didn’t like the question, but he had a right to ask. After all, I was asking him to potentially do illegal shit and hack public records. “I believe she would want to see me.”

“Good enough for me, Cuckoo.”

The wait almost killed me. I tapped my thigh, anxious every second to learn what had become of Katrina.

Nearly an hour later, he turned to me with a grin. “I found her.”

“Where is she?” I asked, popping to my feet.

“I can’t answer that yet. I’ve found her foster and adoption files. Take a look at this and confirm for me.”

I peered over his shoulder, taking in Katrina’s image at some of the most critical moments in her life. “It’s her.”

Fuck. She looked so young and scared.

“Shit!”

“What is it?” I asked, growing anxious when I heard him curse. “She’s alive, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s about all I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her records are sealed. I knew they would be, but it’s strange. There’s high-security clearance on them. They’re associated with an old cold case file.”

Cold case? “The fuck?”

“Criminal activity, Cuckoo. Some serious shit.”

“I need you to find out everything you can, Eagle Eye.”

“I will. It’s gonna take time,” he warned.

“I understand.” I stomped toward the door, pausing before I opened it. “Once you know, contact me. I don’t care if I’m asleep. Wake me up. I want to know right away.”

“I’ll get the info, brother.”

“Thanks.”

I left his office with more questions than answers, and that never failed to piss me off. I didn’t like being taken by surprise, and I certainly didn’t like the idea that Katrina was alone and in danger.

Fuck. I needed a stiffer drink since this would be a long night.