Page 23

Nineteen

Go shit yourself.

— Alternate swear word combination choices

POSY

I loved her enthusiasm.

I also loved her outlook on life.

She had a rough childhood. She had an even rougher adulthood so far.

Yet, the moment that she got money, she wasn’t thinking about what she could buy for herself. She was thinking about what she could do for others.

I loved even more that she got along with my club.

She’d been talkative and happy all night, and I adored that she got along with the rough and tumble group of bikers that I called brothers.

“I like her,” Webber offered, slapping me on the back.

“I like her, too,” I confirmed.

More than liked her.

I was fairly sure I was falling in love with her.

I’d been doing that over the last few weeks, though. The more time I spent with her and got to know her—other than biblically, of course—the more I found myself really enjoying her attention. Her conversations. Her personality.

She and Keely were leaning forward over a low coffee table, sharing recipes or something.

I’d gotten up to throw our empties away, and some of the guys had followed me.

Audric and Apollo included.

“She’s a good girl,” Audric mused. “She reminds me of someone, though.”

“Knight’s wife, Elaine.” Webber snapped his fingers.

That made sense.

One of our club brothers, Knight, had married his life-long sweetheart, Elaine, just six months ago. They’d been together for what felt like forever. At least as long as I’d known them.

If anyone deserved to have their happily ever after, it was them.

“How have they been?” I asked.

Knight was in the military and had been stationed in Kuwait. The two of them had been gone for close to a year.

“Good,” Apollo said. “Just got an email from Knight this morning. He said that they should be getting home soon.”

About damn time.

They’d been gone for fucking ever.

“Your girl looks bad.”

I snapped my head around to see Searcy with one hand to her ear, holding her phone, while the other was on her head, grabbing her hair.

My feet were moving before I could tell them not to.

I was standing at her side, my hand on her hip, as I tried and failed to listen to the other part of her conversation.

“What? When? Where is she?”

The terror in Searcy’s voice had my insides quivering.

The music shut off, and the entire clubhouse was quiet as we listened to Searcy’s ragged breathing as she listened to what was going on on the other end of the line.

When she wilted, I reached for her phone and placed it to my ear.

“This is Searcy’s man,” I said into the phone. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“This is Detective Carter with DPD,” he said.

Dallas Police Department.

Fuck.

“Okay,” I said.

“We found Ms. Hodge’s sister’s car on the side of 75. It was burned to a crisp and there’s nothing identifiable left in the vehicle besides the remains of four people. We’re assuming that Calliope Hodges is one of those people,” Detective Carter explained.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My arm went around Searcy’s body, which was shaking with silent sobs.

“Okay,” I sighed. “What do you need us to do from here?”

“Nothing,” he said. “The car will be impounded to the police impound lot where it’ll be thoroughly examined. Foul play isn’t expected at this time, however, we’re not ruling it out until a full investigation has been done.”

“Okay.” I rested my chin on top of Searcy’s head.

“Sorry for the late call,” he said. “I’ll keep you updated on everything as we move forward.”

After hanging up, it immediately rang in my hand.

Not thinking about it, I answered it and placed the phone onto speaker so that whoever it was on the line could be heard by both of us.

“Hello?”

“Who the fuck is this?” Calliope snarled.

Searcy gasped and flipped her head backward, her hair gracefully falling out of her eyes.

“Calliope!” Searcy cried out. “Are you all right?”

“Well…” She hesitated. “Someone stole my car while I was at a party. And, while I was at said party, some asshole tried to force me to give him a blow job, and I might or might not have bit the tip of his penis off. He’s down, but his friends started chasing me through the woods. I’m near 75 now, and I need a ride.”

A ride.

Holy fuck.

“Where are you exactly?” Searcy straightened her shoulders. “Give me your location, and I’ll come get you.”

“I’m walking to the Dairy Queen off of Newman. I’ll wait for you there. Maybe I’ll buy myself an ice cream to get this awful taste out of my mouth,” Calliope declared.

There was a snort behind me, and I looked over to see all my brothers standing there, eyes intense, as they listened into the conversation.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Calliope hissed. “Why does this keep happening to me? First my car. Then my jaw. Oh, and bring me a plastic baggie. I want to put this penis head on ice.”

Nothing should’ve surprised me at this point, but that girl’s comment had just done the impossible.

“Just throw it away,” Searcy suggested.

“Absolutely not. This is insurance,” she said. “Bring the baggie.”

Then she hung up.

Searcy stared at the ceiling for a few long seconds before she said, “I have to call that cop back.”

“I’ll do it.” I patted her hip. “Get a bathroom break over with. This is gonna be a long night.”

I was right, too.

It was a long night.

Turns out, you can’t avoid police when you are thought to be dead.

Especially when said police happen to be at the Dairy Queen you walk to.

When we arrived at DQ, Calliope was at the front of the building with three police officers surrounding her.

I pulled the bike right up next to them in the closest parking spot and shut it down, hearing my club brothers doing the same on the other side of me.

Stepping off, I helped Searcy down, then walked up to the officers and Calliope with Searcy’s hand in my own.

“Can we help you?” the narrow-eyed cop asked.

“That’s my girl’s sister.” I pointed.

Calliope’s shoulders loosened infinitesimally.

“Good, maybe you can get her to explain why her car was seen lit on fire, her presumed to be in it, then a cop at the hospital called to tell us that this girl was responsible for maiming a poor kid.”

“A poor kid?” Searcy asked, eyes blazing. “Are you telling me that you’re victim blaming right now? You have no clue what happened tonight. None. Yet, you automatically assumed that it’s the girl’s fault?”

The cop’s narrowed eyes got even narrower.

“I’m just going off of facts right now,” he said. “She has yet to give her side of the story, so I’m left putting together pieces on my own, and what I’m finding are not good.”

“We want a lawyer,” Searcy said. “Immediately. She will not talk until she’s spoken with her lawyer.”

The cop rolled his eyes. “We’re here to question her, not you. And she hasn’t asked for a lawyer yet. She’s an adult.”

“I want a lawyer,” Calliope replied immediately.

Long sighs filled the night air around us from the cops. “Is she under arrest?”

“No,” the cop replied.

“Then we’ll meet you down at the station,” I countered.

“That’s…”

“She’s not under arrest,” a cop that I recognized said. Assman, if I remembered correctly. “We’ll meet you down at the station.”

I nodded, then said, “Calliope, you want to ride with us? Or do you want to find your own ride?”

Calliope took a look all around, then said, “Uh…I don’t have a ride. Nor any money for an Uber. But I’ll find a ride…”

“We can take you,” Officer Assman said as he walked away.

“I’ll take a ride,” Calliope blurted, stepping as far away from the cop as she could get.

Chuckles again filled the air, though this time from the club brothers around me.

“I’ll take her,” Gunner said.

Calliope looked from me to Gunner, and her eyes widened.

From what I understand, Gunner had always been a ‘hot guy’ according to all the females that came into the club. He was also the youngest among us early his thirties, which was still nearly fifteen years older than Calliope.

“I have an extra helmet anyway, because my niece was in town,” he said as he gestured toward his bike where a sparkly pink helmet sat.

“I’ll be fine,” Calliope said, but Gunner was already shaking his head.

“You’ll wear it or you won’t ride,” he said.

Calliope opened her mouth to reply when I said, “We lost a club brother two years ago because he wasn’t wearing a helmet. We don’t ride without helmets anymore.”

June, one of our club brothers, had been riding home from Kentucky visiting a friend when someone had pulled out in front of him. He’d slowed down, would’ve been fine really, but the bike hit a pothole and sent him skidding. June had hit his head on the concrete road and had died on impact.

That’d been the only thing injured on him. Everything else had been perfectly covered.

From then on, we’d made a pact in the club that we wouldn’t ride without our helmets.

And it’d stuck.

“Let’s get this over with.” Calliope sighed.