Page 27 of Trip (Sons of Hell MC #11)

Trip

I woke up feeling like a million bucks. Stretching my arms over my head, I smiled as I reached for C.C., only to find her gone. Sighing, I got up and walked to the bathroom. After taking care of my morning necessities, I got dressed and went in search of my woman.

Walking down the stairs, I found the main room empty and headed for the kitchen. King and most of my brothers along with Nash were sitting at the table drinking coffee as Banks glared at his son.

“Mornin’, boys,” I happily greeted as King slowly stood, walking over to the coffeepot and pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“Trip, when you have time, I want to run something by you.”

“Sure thing, Prez, but first I need to find C.C. I wanna show her some land I was scouting before we all headed to New Orleans. Think it might be a good place to build.”

“She left about an hour ago,” Banks absently said as he glared at his son Nash.

That was a revelation I still had a hard time wrapping my head around.

Never pegged Banks as the fatherly type.

The man spent most of his days trying to be the least responsible person around, and now he was married with two kids.

Pointing his finger at his son, he said, “My answer is still no. You are not going.”

“Tyler and Sebastian’s parents are letting them go.”

“Yeah, well, Tyler and Sebastian’s parents didn’t walk in on their son balls deep in his girlfriend,” Banks shot back, then shivered. “For your sake, you better pray your mother never finds out because she will kick your ass. She still thinks you are as pure as the driven snow.”

“You suck, you know that?” the snarly teen fumed as he stormed out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, you’re no joy either!” Banks shot back, then muttered under his breath, “Ungrateful bastard.”

“Not a bastard anymore.” Frank grinned. “You married his mother.”

“Shut up, Frank.”

“What do you mean, she’s not here?” I asked.

Looking at me with his signature blank expression, he muttered, “Huh?”

“C.C.? You said she was gone?”

“Oh yeah.” Banks nodded. “Saw her take off early this morning.”

Reaching for the coffeepot, I poured myself a cup and chuckled. “Figures she’d leave for the track without me. Woman has a one-track mind. I swear she’d sleep in that damn racecar if Ansel would let her.”

Banks smirked, leaning back in his chair as the tension from his earlier outburst was all but forgotten. “You’ve got to admire her, though. When she’s focused, nothing gets in her way. Not even you.”

“If you admire her so much, Banks, then you can keep her from turning that car into a toaster the next time it breaks down,” I muttered with a slight grin, sipping my coffee.

Banks paled, then quickly shook his head as the kitchen door swung open, and in walked Skylar and Pyro, who held their son, Milo.

“King, where is Cameron?” Skylar smiled happily. “It’s Sky-Cam day and I have a whole itinerary planned.”

King grinned. “Haven’t seen him this morning, but knowing him, he’s either in the greenhouse with Scribe or at the Manly Club doing his morning briefing.”

“No briefing today,” Enigma informed as he picked up his coffee cup. “Shug took Benny and Sean to the dentist. Which reminds me, King, I have Finn today, so Scribe and I are switching places. He’s taking the Tavern, and I’ll be at the Bowling Alley.”

“And Kai is with Laurel at the Comic Bookstore,” Banks added.

“I’ll go check the greenhouse,” Frank groaned, getting to his feet as Scribe sleepily walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffeepot.

Priest slowly stood as King pushed off the counter.

“Scribe, have you seen Cameron this morning?”

“No,” the man grumbled while he poured copious amounts of sugar into his coffee. Frank quickly left out the back door, and Scribe turned around and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna ground that little shit until he’s fifty!” King snapped, shaking his head. “One day. I just want one fucking day without Carnage wreaking havoc.”

“He’s probably trying to build a rocket in the greenhouse,” Enigma said dryly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Or maybe he’s decided to have a philosophical debate with the tomatoes. That is, if Scribe is actually growing anything in the greenhouse.”

“Speaking of which.” King faced Scribe. “Are you ready to come clean about the big mystery in the greenhouse?”

Scribe smirked. “Almost, but not quite yet.”

King growled, “Well, get there, fast.”

Frank returned a few minutes later, shaking his head. “Greenhouse is locked up tight, and no one is at the Manly Club. Can’t find my little buddy anywhere.”

King slammed his hand on the counter, making Scribe flinch slightly.

“Where else could he be? He’s not exactly subtle when he’s up to something.

Enigma and Banks, go call your wives. Have them ask the other brats when they last saw Cameron.

The rest of you, fan out. I want the entire grounds and clubhouse searched. ”

“Hello to the house!” a familiar voice shouted when we entered the main room and found Savage and Whiskey from the Golden Skulls standing in our clubhouse.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” King asked as I walked over to shake Whiskey’s hand.

“How ya been, man?” I greeted.

“Been better.” Whiskey grinned. “Sure am glad to see you up and walking around. You wouldn’t happen to know why Ansel would be calling me, would ya?”

I shook my head as King asked, “How the hell do you know Ansel Edwards?”

“Was a driver back in the day, only I never got my chance ’cause I got called home. Figured I’d lost my shot, so I never went back.”

“Chase!” the man himself sauntered in all smiles, greeting Whiskey. “Damn, man, you’ve gotten bigger. Have you met C.C. yet? Man, she drives like a bat out of hell. Trip, go get C.C.”

“She’s not here,” I said, looking at the man as his brow furrowed.

“What do you mean? I specifically told her we were heading over to Clay County today. I called Russ Deacon. You remember him, right? He was on your dad’s old crew. Well, he’s got access to a track we can use. C.C. was gonna go with me to check it out.”

“She wouldn’t miss this meeting, King,” I stated, then turned to Banks. “You said she left early this morning. All the club vehicles have trackers in them. What vehicle did she take?”

Banks smirked. “Your Shelby.”

“Great,” Gunner groaned. “The one vehicle we can’t track.”

King’s jaw tightened as he processed the information. “So, she was supposed to be here, but she’s not. That’s just fucking fantastic.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, masking the concern brewing beneath the surface. “We can add her to the missing list.”

“What? Who else is missing?” Savage asked.

“Cameron,” everyone groaned at once.

Ansel frowned, exchanging an uneasy glance with me. “She wouldn’t just disappear, Trip. You know that. C.C.’s whole life is about the circuit. If she said she’d be here, she’d show up.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I muttered, “I know.” Looking at King, I sighed. “Something isn’t right here, Prez. First Cameron and now C.C. That’s not a coincidence, and you know it.”

“Could they be together?” Skylar asked, reaching for Pyro’s hand.

King paused for a moment as he considered the situation.

“We need to split up and start checking everywhere. Pyro, you and Skylar head home in case Cameron shows up there. Gunner, check the garage, then head to Beth’s coffee shop.

No way in hell would Cameron go to town without getting his chocolate chip muffin.

Scribe and Enigma, you two hit up the Tavern and the Bowling Alley.

Priest, call Phoebe and have her swing by and get Bailey.

Have them check out Sugar’s store. The rest of you, check all of Cameron’s usual haunts.

Frank, call Josie and have her check the ski lodge, then call George and have him and Claudia be on the lookout. ”

“I’ll call Martha Cohen,” Sarah, Gunner’s wife, offered, reaching for her phone.

“Trip, you’re with me. We’re gonna go see Mike at the station.” King turned to the group, his gaze sharp and commanding. “Nobody goes anywhere alone. Keep your phones on and check in every thirty minutes. If you see anything—anything at all—you call. Clear?”

A chorus of affirmations rippled through the group. The tension was palpable, an unease settling over everyone like a heavy fog. As we dispersed, I couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in my gut. Something was definitely wrong, and it wasn’t just the fact that both C.C. and Cameron were missing.

It felt... orchestrated, almost as if the trouble from New Orleans had followed us home.

King nudged me as we headed toward his SUV. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked, his tone low enough that only I could hear.

“Yeah,” I admitted, glancing over my shoulder at the others as I reached into my back pocket for my phone. “Calling Gator now.”

Three hours later, and no one knew where Cameron or C.C. were. It was as if they had just vanished into thin air. By the time we made it to town, word had already spread, and the townsfolk of Rosewood were out in droves, searching every square inch of the town, and still, no one found anything.

“King, it’s time,” Mike cautiously said, walking over to the both of us as we waited at the police station for any news. “I have to call them. Cameron is a minor. You know the law.”

“Callum,” Bailey said softly, placing her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “We’ve done everything we could. We need more help.”

King slowly nodded. “Call them.”

Leaning forward, I gripped my phone hard, willing it to ring when my screen lit up. Jumping to my feet, I looked at Mike. “Hang on, Mike. We may have something,” I said, putting the call on speaker so everyone could hear. “Tell me you have good news, Gator?”

“Sorry, brother. I don’t. Crane is dead.

Local police found his body an hour ago.

Fucker’s been dead for at least a week, maybe more, Trip.

It wasn’t him. I had Worm work his magic, and he broke into police headquarters and got the file.

Single shot to the back of the head and dumped in the bayou.

It’s a miracle there was anything left to identify him.

They found his truck not far from the body, along with a note. ”

“What did it say?” I asked, looking at King.

“He made me do it,” Gator said.

“Do what?” I asked.

“Yer guess is as good as mine, brother. I’ve called Romeo. He’s givin’ you twenty-four hours before all of the Silver Shadows ride. You might want to get King to make a personal call to Steele soon. Fucker ain’t happy if you catch my drift.”

“I hear ya, Gator, and thanks.”

“Keep me posted,” the president of the Bourbon Kings said before disconnecting the call.

Turning to King, I asked, “What do we do now?”