Page 15

Sypher

November 3, 2023, New York City

“They are breaching the door!” I shouted into my headset as I furiously pressed the X button on my Xbox controller. “Kill them all, Jackson! Hurry.”

“What the fuck, Digger?!” Jackson yelled. “Stop staring at your damn wife and help me kill these fuckers.”

“Just for that, Ravage, no apple pie for dinner!” I heard Stella threaten in the background as Digger and I sniggered, and Jackson moaned.

My gaze remained fixed on the television screen, even when I observed my cell phone vibrating across the coffee table, and it was only after reaching for it and unlocking the screen that I was able to see who was calling.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Gotta go, cuz. Duty calls.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, I immediately exited the game and proceeded to connect the call.

“Hey, Mr. King. What’s up?”

“Need you here in Rosewood. How fast can you get here?”

“Uh, I can be on the next flight out. This have anything to do with that email you sent me a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah. There is a video of my brother and his woman on the fucking internet now. Send me your flight information when you have it.”

“Yes, sir.” I hung up the phone and immediately rushed over to my computer, where I quickly booked a flight to Rosewood, Virginia. After sending the information to King, I carefully packed my small carry-on, making sure my laptop and all necessary items were included. Noticing the time, I realized it would be a few more hours until Dante arrived home. Since I didn’t have time to stop by the Soulless Sinners’ clubhouse, I scribbled a brief note, grabbed my bag, and locked up the apartment.

It didn’t take much time at all to hail a taxicab, and in what felt like the blink of an eye, I found myself in an airplane headed toward Virginia. My flight was short, merely a couple of hours, and upon exiting the plane, Enigma, a fellow brother and member of the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club, greeted me.

“Hey, kid.” He smiled, taking the bag off my back. “Glad you could get here fast. Shit has gotten out of hand here.”

“How bad is it?” I asked, following him to his truck.

“Bad. Someone asshole videoed Scribe and Henley having sex without their consent. To make things worse, it was live. So everyone’s mother’s son saw it. The whole town is in an uproar. Henley refuses to leave her room, and Scribe is barely keeping his shit together.”

Scenic views of the Tennessee countryside filled the hour-long drive from Knoxville Airport to Rosewood. I really missed this place. Tennessee was home for me, with its breathtaking scenic views and the sounds of nature and calming way of life. The pleasant atmosphere and friendly people of the area were delightful, and the club offered a fun and energetic environment. Unlike the other high-energy clubs I worked for, the Sons of Hell had a more laid-back feel, with a slower pace.

Even though I tried to ignore it, a noticeable tension hung in the air when I walked into the clubhouse and saw King’s woman, Bailey, pacing about in a frenzied, almost crazed manner. Making a beeline for the club’s church, King abruptly sprang to his feet, his movements swift and decisive.

“Tell me you have something, Sypher, because my woman is about to gear up and storm the beaches of Normandy. She’s not fucking around this time.”

Opening my laptop, I quickly got to work. “I’ve had my programs running since I got the call, and I’ve narrowed down this perv’s location to Rosewood. Whoever posted the live feed lives close.”

“That doesn’t narrow down shit, Sypher.” King groaned. “The town of Rosewood is spread out over three mountain ranges. Gonna need you to narrow it down some more.”

“Well,” I muttered, typing away. “I can tell you that whoever it is, is using a rerouting program that bounces his IP address all over the world. Like right now, he’s in Madrid, Spain.”

“How do you know it’s a guy?” Frank asked.

“Well, the idiot who set up the live stream is the same asshole who uses the log-in HungryMan493 on Ms. Henley’s EroticAudibleReads.com account. I’m running a trace now that I’ve gotten into the site’s servers. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Scribe sat up straighter. “That’s the fucker who’s been pressuring my woman to do private reads. He’s been relentless.”

“You’re right, Mr. Scribe. I’ve gone through most of the conversations on EroticAudibleReads.com, and I was able to identify most of the users.” I squirmed in my seat, refusing to look at him.

He growled. “Who are they?”

“I don’t wanna say.” I gulped

“King?” Scribe growled.

Sighing, King groaned, “Might as well tell him, Sypher. He’s gonna find out, eventually.”

I nodded. “Alright, but don’t shoot the messenger, okay?”

“Now, Sypher.”

“Okay, Lonely4more is none other than Martha Cohen.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Priest shouted, then threw his head back, laughing as the rest of the brothers joined in.

King smirked, shaking his head. “That could work in our favor. Martha is on the town council, and she’s been very vocal about how much she hates this club.”

“Oh, please let me be the one to tell her,” Gunner pleaded, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “She hates me the most.”

“Go on, Sypher,” Scribe growled.

“I3Books is a young woman living in Idaho. So we can rule her out. CountryBoy4U is Wade Crawley.”

King roared loudly, laughing hard as he shook his head. “That kinky Cajun motherfucker.”

“Who is Wade Crawley?” Frank asked.

“Gator. The president of the Bourbon Kings MC.”

Groaning, Scribe rubbed his hands down his face.

I looked across the table at Enigma before returning to my computer.

Scribe seethed. “There are two more regulars, kid. Already know HungryMan493 is the one who did the live feed. Who is JackHammer17?”

“Me,” Enigma admitted for all to hear.

“Oh shit,” Gunner cursed, shaking his head.

Slowly turning to his brother, Scribe stared while Enigma continued, “The second you brought Henley here, I recognized her. I closed my account that night. I didn’t know how to tell you, so I kept it to myself.”

“He’s telling you the truth, Mr. Scribe. Mr. Enigma deactivated his account.”

“So, that just leaves this other fuck,” Priest spoke up.

“Yes, Mr. Priest. Whoever this HungryMan493 is, he’s dangerous. He’s got several other websites he belongs to, always using the same screen name.”

“Rookie mistake.” Gunner smirked, shaking his head.

“Look, gentlemen, I can’t stress this enough. Having online accounts opens you to identity theft, fraud, and a slew of other crap. You may think you are safe, but you’re not. If any of you have online accounts, you need to make damn sure your logins don’t lead back to you and choose passwords that are unbreakable. Passwords need to be at least eighteen digits long. And please don’t use the phrase password or any variation of it. That’s the first thing hackers look for to break into your accounts. And for the love of God, no pictures. With one picture, hackers can not only find out exactly where you are but create whole new identities. Just don’t do it.”

“Well, shit,” Gunner groaned. “Now I have to change my Facebook password.”

Rolling his eyes, King sat forward. “You heard Sypher. I want all of you to check your accounts and make sure they are secure. Sypher will be with us until we catch this fucker. You need help. Go see him. He will secure your shit so tight the NSA won’t be able to find you. Got me?”

Everyone nodded as they all got up and filed out of church.

Closing my laptop with a soft click, I rose to leave, but King’s hand on my arm stopped me.

“Hold up, Sypher. We need to talk.”

Sitting back down, King waited until the last brother left, the heavy oak door groaning shut behind him.

King reclined in his chair, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he finally spoke. “When was the last time you went home, kid?”

Unsure of his intentions behind this particular line of questioning, I decided to respond with complete honesty. “When I helped the club get rid of the Society , so at least a year. Why?”

“You talk to your family recently?”

“I was playing Call of Duty with Jackson and Digger when you called. What’s going on, King?”

“They tell you what happened to Sunny?”

Sitting up straighter, a cold trickle of unease snaked its way down my spine, raising goose bumps on my arms. “What happened to Sunny?”

“She was in a really bad car accident a few weeks back. She’s on life support at Rosewood Memorial. Sandman is refusing to leave her side. Thought since you were here, you’d like to stop by and see her.”

With a smooth motion, King slid a set of keys toward me, then added, “Go. I’ve got this. Go see your family, kid.”

I nodded, snatching the cool metal of the keys as I hurried out of the clubhouse, leaving the quiet hum of conversation behind me.

The drive to Rosewood Memorial was quick, the scenery blurring past in a flash of green and gray. I had seriously considered driving across the state line into Tennessee to confront my family, but I knew, with a certainty that bordered on disgust, that the majority of them would undoubtedly be at the hospital.

And I was right.

Because the second the elevator doors opened into the Intensive Care Unit, there they were.

All of them.

“Danny?” I was vaguely aware of Stella’s gasp as my brothers, startled by my unexpected appearance, spun around quickly.

The second Bailey stepped forward, I raised my hand with a sneer, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t.”

As I angrily marched away, I walked toward the nurses’ station, where I discovered Savage, Jess, and Claudia engaged in a quiet conversation with Valhalla, the president of the Nyght Nymphs Motorcycle Club. In the private sector, Dr. Abigail Robinette was renowned as one of the country’s foremost neurosurgeons. However, her professional achievements never overshadowed the personal connection we shared and to me, she was always just Val.

Due to my unique skill set, I had collaborated with Val and her club on numerous occasions in the past. Their projects frequently required my expertise in various capacities. Because Valhalla was not only one of my favorite clients, who compensated me generously for my work, but also one of my dearest friends, my relationship with Val transcended the typical client-service provider dynamic.

Upon seeing me, Jess immediately ran over, her eyes red and puffy from crying, embracing me in a tight hug.

As Jess cried in my arms. I glanced at Val, whose head shook ever so slightly, a gesture that spoke volumes. With a heavy sigh, I pulled Jess closer, holding her tightly as her tears flowed freely.

“Where are Dylan and Jackson?” I asked, looking at Savage.

“They got a lead. They went hunting. Phantom, Digger, and Slaughter are at the clubhouse. I wanted to call you, but Chipper and Trout didn’t want to interrupt your schooling.”

Feeling a surge of anger and regret, I silently muttered, “You should have called,” as I watched Jess sniffle and return to the comforting embrace of her husband. “Where is Sandman?”

“With Sunny. He won’t leave her side.”

“Who was it?”

“We don’t know yet.”

I nodded, my eyes meeting Val’s, then gave a quick, almost imperceptible jerk of my head, conveying a silent communication.

Finding a quiet room, the silence broken only by the faint ticking of a clock, I entered with Val close behind. I waited until the door was firmly closed, then quickly asked my question, “Will she live?”

“I don’t know, Sypher. It’s bad. The force of the crash ejected her from the vehicle. She was wearing her seat belt. Do you know what kind of force it takes to remove someone from their seat belt?”

I whispered, “Yeah, I do.”

Val sighed, the weight of the day settling on her shoulders as she removed her crisp, white doctor’s coat and sat down. The weariness in her slumped posture and the faint scent of stale coffee clung to her as she rubbed her hands down her face. But I knew Val. Despite the heavy weight of exhaustion pressing down on her, she would find a way to push through. “How have you been? How is school going?”

“About as well as expected. School sucks. I know more than they do, so it makes it hard sometimes to concentrate on homework and shit. Montana’s keeping a close watch on me. Why? I don’t know. Reaper’s gone silent on me. He’s fallen off the face of the earth. I can’t find him anywhere. After he killed Baranov, he just fucking vanished. No one knows anything. So I’ve been holding down the fort, so to speak. Doing what I do best.”

“Business good?”

I smirked. “Yeah. Can’t complain there.”

“Good. And our special project?”

Looking at Val, I smirked. “Safe the last time she checked in.”

Relieved, Val sighed. “You let me know if anything changes, okay?”

“Will do,” I said, then cautiously added, “Val, in the war to bring down Baranov, I came across some information that concerns you. You should know that the club is on everyone’s radar now.”

Her head snapped to mine. Her wide eyes conveyed shock and fear. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Right now, no one knows much, but it won’t take them long to put the pieces together when the door swings open. What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. We wait and see how everything plays out. Not going to risk my club or my girls. I’ve come too far to fall back into the fury of the sea again.”

“Wish you would let me bring this to Reaper. He would help.”

“You just said you can’t locate him,” she challenged. “No, this stays between us. Promise me, Sypher.”

“I promise. How’s Frostbyte doing?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Stays to herself mainly. Rarely leaves her room.”

“Does she need anything? More pictures?”

Val looked up at me and sneered. “No. Just that motherfucker dead.”