Page 14

13

SADIE

It’s been five days of this bullshit, and I’ve just about had my fill. Every morning Marta wakes me up at five o’clock to get dressed and eat breakfast. By six o’clock, Asha meets us in the dining room and escorts me to the gym where we do an hour of cardio followed by an hour of strength training and another hour of self-defense moves.

Then we break for lunch.

As soon as lunch is finished, Sergio sneaks me out of the penthouse garage and drives me to a huge mansion outside of Dallas. I’ve never been to Texas, and it seems I’m not going to get to see much of it this trip either.

When we get to The Mansion, we are taken in through an underground parking garage and immediately escorted to a basement arsenal. Sergio chooses our weapons of choice, and then we practice. Everything from knife throwing, to axes throwing, to shooting and my personal favorite -whatever you can get your fucking hands on to use as a weapon, do it and let’s see what you’ve got .

We do this same routine for hours. By the time we get back to the penthouse, I’m exhausted. I’m beginning to think is Matteo’s plan, since after dinner we work on our special training and I’m often too tired to argue or verbally spar with anyone.

Sneaky bastard.

But tonight is different.

Tonight, Matteo had to leave town and won’t be back until tomorrow evening, which means our lessons were canceled and I have the evening to myself. So, instead of wine, I asked Marta to make me an espresso. Matteo has been strict about letting me have too much caffeine, but since we aren’t training and I haven’t had any yet today, I convinced Marta to let me have it.

Sergio spent the whole dinner watching me, being his unusually quiet, creepy self until I forced him into conversation.

“So, what’s Matteo doing tonight? Where’d he go?” I ask tearing a small piece off the corner of my bread and shoving it in my mouth. Sergio doesn’t answer, only raises his brow at me. He doesn’t like small talk. But that’s too bad, because I need to know things.

“Is he working for the boss or did he get a lead on one of these parties? Come on, Serg, I need details.” I whine.

“What you need is to learn when to enjoy the silence. Like now. While we’re eating. You should be silent.” He sounds gruff, but I’ve spent enough time with him to know it’s all a facade. Sergio is a big softy under that suit and scruff. He just doesn’t want anyone to know it. Much like Matteo, he’s a big - I could kill a motherfucker- teddy bear.

I narrow my eyes and watch as Sergio shovels another bite of food into his mouth. Clearly, my typical level of nosiness is not going to work this time. So, I switch tactics.

“Is he with a woman?” I ask, making my voice tight, filled with jealousy.

Sergio’s mouth hangs open, his bite of food hoovering on his fork. The look on his face is comical and I have to fight not to laugh.

“Why the hell would you ask me that? You’re not with Matteo. This is a job, girl.”

“Oh, so now I’m nothing more than a whore.” I dramatically shove my plate back and cross my arms over my chest. If Matteo was here, I’m certain I’d get my ass roasted, but since he’s not, Sergio can’t do shit about it.

“The fuck are you going on about?” He mumbles something in Italian under his breath that I don’t understand, but if the redness of his face is anything to go by, he’s getting pissed. “No one called you a whore. But you and I both know you are not Matteo’s woman. This is all a job to catch these assholes running the sex ring in our territory.”

“So, tell me then. Is he on a date with someone?” I push.

“I don’t know where he is, what he’s doing…or who for that fucking matter. It’s not my business to know. My job is to babysit you and teach you how to protect yourself. Nothing more.”

“So, you think he is out fucking someone. After everything we’ve been doing in that dungeon. Making me parade around in the nude for him. Kneeling at his feet and following his every command. He goes out to get laid by someone else?” I swear if Jayde or Jinx were here to see this performance, they’d be falling over with laughter. It’s hard for me to hold back my own amusement, but I want to see how far I can push him.

“Again, not my place or my business. Not yours either.” Sergio groans. “Why do you care, anyway. You two aren’t romantically involved. You’re not having sex. You’re faking a relationship. So why do you fucking care what he does or doesn’t do with another woman?”

Seeing the irritation on his face, I’m unable to hold it in anymore. I pull my plate back, scoop up a fork full of food and shrug with a smile. “I don’t. I just think it’s totally unfair for him to get to go out and get laid and I don’t.”

“Dio mio.” Sergio grumbles and then rattles on in Italian again to himself. My shoulders shake with laughter. He points his fork in my direction and snaps, “Laugh now. But don’t think I’m not going to tell him what just went on here. He’ll probably turn your ass red for pretending to be so upset with him.”

“No, he won’t. He doesn’t care that I give you shit. He only cares when I do it to him.”

He smirks. “No, but he does care when you curse.” My smile drops and my eyes narrow.

“Tattle tale.” I snap before taking another bite. Sergio laughs and the sound is jarring. Not in a bad way. I’ve just never heard him laugh before. He’s always so stoic and blah, with a sprinkle of sarcastic, that I’m genuinely shocked to hear him laugh. When he catches me staring, he sobers up instantly.

“What about Hawk? You don’t worry about him being with another woman while you’re away?” It’s my turn to sober. The thought of Hawk with another woman has always hurt, but now, it’s so much worse. I’ve tried to push out the memory of our night together and all the hurtful things he said afterward and just focus on my training. It was working. Sort of. Until now.

“Hawk’s like any other brother. He can do whatever and whoever he wants. It makes no difference to me.” I lie. The words are like acid on my tongue. Thought of Hawk with Candi and the other club girls run through my mind like watching a video montage of the last few years. My chest tightens and my heart aches, but this is the life of a biker. Right? No commitments. No strings. And now, with me gone, no obligations or promises to keep.

“Finish your dinner.” Sergio nudges his fork at me as I absentmindedly play push my food around my plate. My appetite and playful mood have both vanished into thin air. “What are you going to do with your free time tonight?” This is what I love about Sergio. Once the jab is made and landed, he’s back to business.

I shrug, tearing more bread and popping it into my mouth. “I need to answer emails and check on the status of Snitch. Maybe watch some trash reality tv.”

He nods but doesn’t say much more for the rest of the meal.

After Marta clears the table, I go straight to the office Matteo had set up for me with all my equipment. I make sure to shut the door and lock it. Not that a lock would stop any of Matteo’s men from coming in if they wanted to, but at least I’ll have a heads up if anyone tries.

Firing up my computer, I get the screens up and pull Hawk’s phone and my own phone out and lay them on the table plugging them in to charge. I’ve had both phones shut down since I got here, so I’m not surprised when they both start chiming simultaneously given a little power.

I scroll through mine first. Nothing too serious. Mostly emails about the Snitch prototypes and purchase orders. Matteo found someone to start promoting and pushing the Snitch for children with Autism and adults with Alzheimer’s to local hospitals and group homes. I was shocked when we had such an overwhelming response. Currently, we only have the bracelet version and a set of earrings we are currently toying with, but knowing there’s a desire for my tracking device and the fact it will help so many people warms my heart and fills me with a sense of pride.

The Snitch is my program. From proof of concept to the finished product, it’s my baby. I created it. There’s something about knowing I’ve made something on my own, and it’s being well received.

Hawk’s phone is going off beside me. I put mine away and pick his up to find out who has been blowing him up. I expect it to be the guys from the club, with Nate’s death and my disappearance, I’m sure Gabe is losing his shit. With the video and Hawk’s opinions of me being laid out before them, I have no doubt they’ll be looking for me. They’ll all want answers I can’t give, and they won’t give up easily.

When I see the first six messages aren’t from the club, but are from different women, I immediately want to throw the damn thing against the wall and burn it in a bon fire.

Of course it’s not the club call him. He’s probably been there the whole time on his computers searching for you, dummy.

All the messages say pretty much the same thing only using different words. Some even sent pictures of themselves in little to no clothing.

Gross.

All of them asking if he’s down to fuck. The surprising thing is, he didn’t respond to any of them. Not one.

Why would he when he has Candi as his beck and call at the clubhouse.

That thought is the only explanation I have for what I’m about to do next. Clicking on the message with the blonde with big tits, in her lacy lingerie, I screenshot it. Moving into the camera roll and click edit, and then select a black mark-up pen. I know it’s petty and childish, and all the other things Hawk thinks of me, so why the fuck not?

When I’m done with my masterpiece, I crop the photo and leave it in his camera roll for him to find later. Not like he takes a lot of pictures unless they’re of nice rides anyway. So, I know he won’t find it right away. His last photo was taken of an old Chevy truck that was brought into Gabe’s shop three weeks ago.

Maybe he’ll find it on his way to see the big, boobed Barbie and change his mind when he sees what she looks like with facial hair. Or maybe he won’t care and will still use her to wipe away all memory of us.

His phone chimes again, and I push those thoughts out of my mind and focus my attention back on his text threads. The newest one is from Gabe.

Pres: Church 9:00am tomorrow I want answers.

Hawk: Got it, Pres.

Jake: We still on for the Pearl tonight? Ethan coming too?

Hawk: Yeah, we’re all going.

Jake: Dec too?

Hawk: No. He’s working with Wyatt on the Trident situation.

What Trident situation? And why are they all going to the Pearl?

The Velvet Pearl is a classy gentlemen’s club. It’s classier than Ghost’s strip club, Glitz and Tass, that’s for sure.

The Pearl doesn’t have vinyl booths and sawdust covered floors. It’s full of high-back booths and long velvet curtains separating each table. The place screams high class. But of course, it would, it’s Vincenzo’s club. The shows are sensual, and the costumes are sexy as hell, but the dancers never get completely naked. The women here don’t bare all unless you pay them extra and only by reservation in the private rooms on the second level. At least, not according to Skyler. She used to work there.

But they all have wives or ol’ ladies, except Hawk, so what the hell are they going there for? I guess it’s not unusual for the guys to go to a strip club even if they have women of their own, though it’s not been common as of late. Jake spends every second he can touching Avery in some kind of public claim. It’s disgusting really. Annoying. And Declan and Ethan are no different. Hell, Ethan is twice as touchy-feely since Skyler became pregnant and even more so with Cash around.

They must be going for Hawk then. Maybe they’re looking to help get rid of his pissy mood.

“Uggghhhh!” I groan trying to force myself not to care, to just move on to the job at hand.

I scroll further, past all the women and talk of their boys night out until I spot Tate’s name and a text from several days ago.

Tate: The rat may be gone, but there’s still a mole among you. Go along with the Feds but be careful. Your sister’s life depends on your cooperation. And so does Sadie’s.

What the hell is he talking about go along with the Feds? And why the hell am I in danger?

That’s bullshit. I’m not in any danger. Right?

Matteo promised to keep you safe. Of course he’s not here at the moment, but you’re still safe. Sergio and his other men are here.

Comforting myself with the thought of Matteo’s men keeping me safe is ridiculous but helps me relax enough to keep digging.

There were several more texts from Hawk to Tate asking to meet up with Kayce or him and talk face to face. He also asked for their help in locating me, but Tate never replied.

I scramble to open Hawk’s emails. Most are intercompany emails for Garrison Security. Others were from clients. I know the one I’m looking for, so it doesn’t take long to find it. I want to see the one Tate sent with the video footage from the night I snuck Thomas into the basement.

The video that cost me everything I’ve ever wanted in a matter of seconds.

“Fuckhead.” As soon as I’m done with Hawk, I’ll be looking into Tate’s system and finding out what the hell he’s been up to since ratting me out was not explained in our little briefing.

I open the email attachment and watch the video footage again. This time slowing it down so I can see if there was anything I’ve missed. For some reason I fully expected Kayce or one of his men to be in the room with Thomas, helping him. But then I remember, this is not the full video. Tate cut off the part where I left the room and how Nate actually died before sending it to Hawk.

He wanted the club, or at least Hawk, to believe I killed Nate. Why? What the hell is Trident up to?

I decide to investigate further, hacking into Trident’s system searching for the complete footage from that night. Tate’s pretty good, I’ll give him that. He has boobie traps all over his system, but I’m not amateur. I know my way around this shit. It’s all I did when I was living in Baron’s Edge, was hone my hacking skills.

I had nothing better to do unless I was hanging out with Avery or sitting in a classroom. Plus, some of those rich assholes made themselves easy targets and deserved to have their credit cards and bank accounts fucked with. Although, my favorite was giving that whore Bethany Weatherford an outstanding warrant for a DUI. It took her lawyers a couple days to figure things out. Due to her family’s wealth and her ability to use said wealth to disappear, it made her a flight risk which the judge then decided required her to wear a pretty little anklet until it was resolved. The judge might’ve just been a grumpy asshole who didn’t like rich kids getting away with shit because their parents had money. Whatever the reason, it was the best week of high school, hands down. I have no regrets.

Finally getting past the firewall and Tate’s stupid traps, I locate the video file I’m looking for and click play. I watch myself sneaking Thomas downstairs. We both chat with Nate for a few. I talk to Thomas and then leave the room. As soon as I’m out of the room, Thomas approaches Nate. They’re talking too low for the audio to pick them up, but their expressions show signs of them arguing about something. Kayce enters the room from the tunnels carrying a what looks like syringes in his hand.

He talks to Nate. Nate places his hands through the bars. Thomas takes a syringe, holding one of Nate’s hands in his while does the same with the other. Nate looks like he’s sweating, but he nods, I’m assuming he’s giving consent or agreeing with something, I’m not sure. The two men inject the contents of the syringe in between Nate’s first and middle fingers. Nate’s face contorts and in a flash, Thomas’s right hand swipes through the bars injecting a third syringe into Nate’s thigh. The same thigh with the gunshot wound.

The syringes are all collected by Kayce who tucks them into a pocket on his tactical pants. Nate steps back and settles on his cot with one arm over his face, nodding his head. Thomas spins on his heels and follows Kayce back out of the basement turning toward the tunnels. I skim through the video and watch as Nate’s body begins to react. His breathing is labored. His body covered in sweat. Moments later he begins convulsing, and eventually he just…stops. I’m not sure what it says about me that I have no emotional reaction to watching the man die.

I continue searching through the files and run across the name Agent Maria Galina. She’s an FBI agent heading the investigation on the Devil’s Order MC. She was also Nate Hawkins’s handler. But the information Tate has is minimal which means I need to go to the source.

It’s never easy to crack into the FBI’s data base, but I’ve done it enough times now, I know what to watch out for. It takes a lot less time to get in this time. I start sifting through files, digging for anything with the keywords: Kings of Fury MC, Nathan Hawkins, Nathaniel Hawkins, and Devil’s Order MC.

Several files filter across the screen. I shift them over to the multi-screen set up on the wall so I can get a clear view of everything at one time. It’s times like this I wish I had Tony Stark’s lab and the ability to shuffle everything in 3D in the air while I sift through it all. Or better yet, my own personal Jarvis system with a sexy voice to search everything out for me. Yeah, that would be so much easier.

I find the report on Nate. He’d been a federal informant going on close to a year and a half. He reported to Agent Galina every week. They’d meet after he made pickups and drop-offs of the women being trafficked.

Agent Galina has very thorough notes on every meeting and shipment moved. She even has notes on two different nights when two separate shipments went missing. Based on the dates and locations, I’m certain they were the nights that George died and Trident rescued Violet’s doctor friend. Her notes mention drop off points and head counts, but no rescues, interceptions, or extractions.

Odd.

“Holy shit.” I gasp. She even has notes on the foster family that had Carter. The report states there was suspected arson as the house burned down with them in it and there was no sign of anyone else.

That’s because Declan finished off the dirty ass cop in the basement.

There are notes just below stating that house to be Nate’s last known whereabouts.

“How the fuck did they know that, when he was already in Vincenzo’s custody?” There are so many possibilities, and none of them are good. They could’ve had a tracker on Nate, but Vincenzo’s men would’ve caught on to that easily. Vincenzo’s men are very thorough. They’d never risk his empire for a prick like Nate. Maybe Vincenzo has a rat in his ranks? But if he does, how the hell would I tell him? None of these options are helping my stress level.

You don’t say anything until you have proof. Find the proof.

I keep digging. Searching through file after file of notes on the Devil’s Order. There’s a list of properties owned by the Devil’s Order members. Some of them are registered foster care transition homes. Some are highlighted and have notes about children who lived there and gone missing or ran away.

There’s another list of businesses, buildings, and structures, along with multiple vehicles, and even a yacht docked in Florida, owned by the club.

“A yacht?” Why would an MC have need for a yacht?

The next file has notes for a homicide at the Miller Road Motel in Oakridge dated the night of Skyler’s party. The same night Nate died. That motel is one of the shittiest places in town, and usually only used by hookers and meth heads, so I’m not shocked to see the Devils staying there. But the photos attached to the file, are a whole different story.

Drea is on the ground in nothing but a pair of dirty panties, her purple hair a matted mess on her head. She has bruises and burn marks all over her skin and what looks to be zip ties hanging from her wrists. Her eyes are hollow and her make-up smeared.

My hand flies to my mouth, not able to hold back the sob. I never liked her as a club girl, but I’d never wish something like this on anyone. It looks like she was beaten and raped, then left for dead in a puddle of blood and fluids on the dingy orange motel carpet.

The next three photos are of Devil’s Order members, at least the cuts they’re wearing are for the DO. The three men all have similar single bullet holes between their eyes. One is slouched in a chair, wearing just his cut with his jeans open and hanging just below his knees. Another is laid out on the bed nude except for his cut. And the third is on his knees, again in nothing but his cut.

I zoom in on the room and see the coke and alcohol on the table to the left of the guy in the chair. There’s a bottle of red pills spilled over beside the alarm clock near the bed. Open, empty food containers are littered around the room making it appear as though they’d been in that room for several days at least.

Moving past the pictures, I get into the notes and start reading. It appears to have been written off as a possible rival club shooting.

Fuck!

Scanning further, I find the newest information entered into the system just this evening.

Gun found near crime scene. Lab results show the bullets match the weapon. Weapon registered to one, Nathaniel Hawkins.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. I have to warn them! Him. I have to warn him. But how to do it without him being able to track it back to find me.

“Think, Sadie. Think!”

The Pearl.

I grab Hawk’s phone and start searching through all of the texts from earlier about the guys meeting up at the Pearl tonight. Vincenzo is going to lose his shit if he finds out what I’m doing, but I can’t let Hawk go down for something I know he didn’t do. He might be a complete and utter jackass, but he’s still a King. He may not think I’m loyal, but I have and always will be part of the Kings’ family, and Kings take care of our own.