Page 18
Razor
I T HAD BEEN three days since I proposed to Waverly, three days since she’d found out about Cupid’s escape and her nervous system was on the verge of overload. Even the look of pure happiness on her face couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes. At first, she tried to hide her ‘moments of panic’ from me, saying she didn’t want me to think she wasn’t happy about our engagement. But soon those moments turned to full on panic attacks, and those, she couldn’t hide. I knew one of them would soon bring me to my breaking point.
I’d run out to the Plaid Pantry near Waverly’s place to get her some orange juice and a packet of chocolate Yum Yums. She’d barely eaten anything in the past seventy-two hours, and this was the only breakfast I could talk her into, so I was counting it as a win, especially considering it wasn’t Cheetos and wine. I also grabbed some Pedialyte and the least bruised pieces of fruit from the basket next to the cashier in hopes that I could get some nourishment into her once she was feeling a little better. I’d only been gone for fifteen minutes, but that was long enough for Waverly to suffer her worst panic attack yet.
I’d barely made it through the front door when I saw Waverly falter. She was standing near the entryway, her knees beginning to buckle and her eyes rolling back into her head. Within a split second I dropped the groceries, catching her as she went down, but only just. I carried her to her sofa, setting her down gently. Her face had turned an alarming shade of gray and her breathing was labored. I called her name three times before she finally answered me.
“Jesus,” I hissed. “Are you okay, baby?”
“What happened?”
“You passed out, sweetheart,” I replied, brushing the hair from her forehead. “You’re burning up. Wait right here.” I grabbed an ice pack from her freezer and wrapped it in a towel.
“That feels amazing,” Waverly moaned as I placed it on her forehead.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my whole life,” I said.
“I’m sorry. You were gone and I just started thinking about Cupid and I tried to stop but I couldn’t, and—”
I kissed her. “Never apologize to me for how you feel. None of this is your fault. It’s his, and I’m going to personally make sure he can never get anywhere near you.”
“You have enough going on with the Spiders. You can’t fight every war.”
“If I have to choose between protecting you or fighting the Spiders, I choose you. Hatch has plenty of soldiers at his disposal, I only have one of you.” I kissed her again. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Thank you.”
“When you think you can sit up, I’ll pick up your breakfast from off the floor and get you fed.”
Once Waverly had eaten and I was sure she was okay, I stepped into her bedroom and called Hatch.
“Hey, brother,” he said after the first ring.
“I need to take care of this Cupid problem.”
“What’s up?”
I told him about Waverly’s panic attacks and her passing out.
“Goddammit. I want her here. Now. Actually, I want you both here.”
“I want this guy, Hatch. She won’t find peace while he’s out there.”
“Don’t do anything. Get your ass over here. Now. I’ll send Brian with the van. He’ll meet you out back.”
He hung up and I headed back out to Waverly.
“I’m gonna pack you a bag and we’re goin’ back to Hatch and Maisie’s. Let me know what you need. ”
“I can help, it’s all right,” she said, standing up, then immediately sitting back down. “Too fast.”
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” I said, scooping her up into my arms.
She nodded into my neck. “Okay.”
I walked her into the bedroom and laid her down on her bed. “Your color’s back. You feeling better?”
She nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t feel safe.”
“You will, baby. We’ll get over to Hatch and Maisie’s and you’ll feel safe.”
“I heard you talking to Hatch.”
“Spying on your husband before we’re even married, huh?”
Waverly shrugged. “Thin walls.”
“I’m gonna do what law enforcement hasn’t been able to do. I’m gonna find that sonofabitch and I’m going to make sure he can never hurt you or anyone else again.”
Waverly grabbed my hand. “I can’t handle you getting hurt or going to prison over him.”
“Criminals go to prison and I’m not a criminal. Besides, I have a fiancée to come back to.”
“You’re leaving me?”
I nodded. “I’ll only be gone a short while.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ve got some ideas about how to find him. Once I do, I’ll move the gates of hell right to his doorstep.”
“You promise you’ll come back to me?” she said.
“I promise.”
“I mean it, Gio. You swear to me, God, and anyone else whose listening that you’ll come back to me.”
I stood up and took off my cut before folding it like a flag, with the Dogs of Fire patch facing upward. “This is the most sacred thing in the world to me,” I said, placing it in Waverly’s hands. I then raised my right hand and placed my left hand on my cut. “No god has claimed me yet, but you have. So, I swear to you, on my club’s colors that I will come back to you. That I will always come back to you.”
Tears streamed down Waverly’s perfect face, and she nodded.
“Okay?” I cupped her face.
“Okay.”
“Then I’m gonna go get him.”
She sniffed, biting her lip. “Okay, Razor. Go get him.”
* * *
Four hours later, Waverly was in Maisie’s tender care, and I was with Hatch in his office on a conference call with Sundance. Damon Mecham escaped from Colorado State Penitentiary, right in the Primal Howlers’ backyard. I figured if anyone could track a biker in Colorado, it would be those guys. And I damn well knew the Howlers could handle business without any blowback. Hatch reached out to Sundance as soon as he got off the phone with me, and he was now calling back.
“I reached out to a mechanic I know whose old lady works as a prison guard at the State Pen. He said the Supreme Riders were the ones who busted Cupid out. They bribed and/or extorted some guards and nurses and snuck him out during what was supposed to be a well-check after a recent appendectomy. Apparently, they got him out of Colorado that same night.”
“Any idea of where he is?” I asked.
“His mom and stepdad are his only family in Colorado, and they disowned him ten years ago. I couldn’t find any reason they’d help him and neither did the police. His real daddy died two years ago of cirrhosis of the liver, so the club’s all he’s got.”
Hatch stroked his beard. “They could have him stashed away anywhere.”
“And no way are any of them talking,” I said. “At least not without proper motivation .”
“I’ll keep you posted as soon as I hear anything more,” Sundance said.
“Thanks again for helping us out,” Hatch said.
Sundance chuckled. “Shit, man. How many is that you owe me?”
“I’m afraid to say I’ve lost count.”
“In all seriousness, though, I’m more than happy to help you nail this sick fuck,” Sundance said. “I sure as hell don’t want him in my state, or any state for that matter, except the state of decomposition.”
“Don’t worry,” I replied. “He’s never getting out of the hole we’ve got dug for him.”
“It’s true what they say about your club, Hatch.”
“What’s that, brother?”
“The Dogs of Fire may not be one-percenters, but they’ve got teeth,” Sundance replied before hanging up.
“At least we know he’s not in Colorado,” Hatch said.
“Great,” I replied. “Only forty-nine states to go.”
“Should we start alphabetically?” Hatch replied sarcastically.
“Don’t start that search just yet,” Booker said, coming into Hatch’s office with an open laptop, setting it on the desk. “I may have him.”
“Holy shit, really?”
“I reached out to Jaxon, he’s not on this case, but with his clearance he was able to access the FBI case file on Damon Mecham, a.k.a. Cupid’s prison break. I took a look at all the mail he received over the past five years and noticed something interesting.”
“What’s that?” Hatch asked.
“The only mail he ever got was from his mother, and occasionally from his father, until three years ago when he started getting regular letters from someone named Sorcha, no last name included. I thought maybe they were love letters from a girl on the outside, but as soon as I started reading the first one, I knew that wasn’t the case. At first, I thought Sorcha might have been a pen pal from a religious organization because she referred to herself as his ‘sister,’ and Mecham was an only child.”
“So, who is she?” I asked.
“I know Damon Mecham was the only child to Richard and Marci Mecham, but what if Richard had another kid after he divorced Damon’s mother?”
“She’s his half-sister,” I said,
“I almost missed it, too. The FBI in Colorado did miss it. I did a search for anyone named Sorcha born in the Colorado area after the time Damon’s parents split up. I even ran the start date back just in case her birth was the cause of the split but only came up with dead ends. But then I learned that Richard Mecham’s family were members of the LDS church, dating back to the earliest days. Which got me thinking about names. And although Richard Mecham wasn’t the greatest poster boy for the Mormon church, he was still traditional enough to name his daughter the most common within the faith, Sarah. Fun fact, Sorcha is Irish for Sarah.”
“Nice catch,” Hatch said. “Remind me never to go against you in a pub quiz.”
“So, Sorcha’s his sister? Why the hell does that matter?”
“She’s his half-sister,” Booker corrected. “His illegitimate half-sister at that, which is why Richard Mecham’s name isn’t on her birth certificate, and why she doesn’t go by her given name. Her father’s shame is now her shame. It’s been with her for her entire life and is the motivation behind her reaching out to her brother. According to her letters, she only learned of Damon’s existence after her mostly absent father had been diagnosed with terminal cirrhosis and began writing to her in hopes of making a connection with him.”
“Lucky Sorcha,” I said. “She gets a big brother who’s a white supremacist and convicted rapist.”
“Yeah, well, according to her letters, lucky Sorcha is exactly what she thinks. She’s fixated on him, desperate for his approval. ”
“And you think Sorcha’s hiding him?” Hatch asked.
“She’s got a place in Twin Falls, Idaho. It’s only twelve hours from Colorado State Penitentiary. I’d bet my left nut and a tuna salad sammich he’s there,” Booker replied.
Hatch stood up. “Saddle up boys. We’ve got about five hundred miles to ride and less than nine hours to do it in.”