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Chapter Thirty-Six

Tanner

If only Jesse would let me take this guy out.

When I told him I could have Lance taken care of, he shut me down instantly. I wish I had a recording of his face, it was honestly priceless. His pupils nearly tripled in size and he went white as a ghost. The poor guy freaked. He has no idea the life I lived prior to becoming Tanner Hayes , so we can do all of this his way — for now.

I’ve been trying to stay distracted by burying myself into studying the daily runnings of Lance’s operations. Speaking with both my own connections, as well as Jesse and Kinsley’s PI Stanley. The word from the underground is that he is running a sex trafficking operation, however Stanley assures us that the evidence only tells him Lance trades in drugs, not people. Which is the problem with Private Investigators, they don’t have access to the inside.

What neither Jesse or Stanley know is I have eyes and ears in all places. It took some effort, on my part, to convince a few people that I hadn’t skipped out and abandoned my brothers. Especially when no one had seen me in over six months. Luckily for me, Harley had maintained all our connections and he was still trusted in the inner circle.

I rub the back of my neck, releasing a long breath of air. This is all such unknown territory for me, normally I take what I want without any care for who gets in my way. These circumstances are different though with Kinsley in the middle of it all. Leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes, I remind myself that walking away was the right thing to do. Even if she hates me for it, I will find my way back to her once all this is over.

An email pops up on the computer screen in front of me, opening it up I see that it’s forwarded from Harley, the original sender blanked out. Not that long ago, the emails would have been sent directly to me. However, I’m aware of why people are still uncertain about my motives. Josh and his damn feelings, that’s why. If Josh would just get his act together, and leave his bitterness towards me out of this, everyone would move the fuck on.

There is a file attached to the email containing multiple photos and a document. I click into the document, reading the first line to myself. ‘ PHOTO ONE - fourteen year old caucasian, blonde hair, brown eyes.’ I scroll down to the bottom of the document, the last line reads ‘PHOTO THIRTY SIX - seventeen year old Caucasian, brunette, blue eyes.’ Each has a price next to them and a box where depending on whether or not they were a virgin it was ticked. Mother. Fuckers.

Hesitantly, I open the first photo and sure enough it’s of a young girl who matches the description of ‘photo one’. She’s standing there, staring blankly down the lens of the camera. Her eyes silently scream for someone, anyone, to help her.

“Fucking pieces of shit!” I yell, slamming my fists down onto my desk.

We need to do something. Now.

* * *

Jesse

My phone rings through the Bluetooth in the ute and I accept the call. Tanner’s voice booms through the speakers before I even have a chance to say hello.

“Where the fuck are you?”

Oh hot damn, he’s in a mood. “Hello to you too, lover boy. I’m on my way home from school. Why? What’s up?”

“You need to get your ass over here, I have something for you to see.”

Tanner’s voice is dark. Normally, if he’s moody there is a hint of ‘I don’t want your bullshit’ in his tone, today his voice is laced with something else. I wrack my brain thinking of what could have pissed him off this much. I must get lost in thought because he huffs, mumbling something under his breath on the other end of the call.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go home and get changed, feed Lou her dinner and then come to your place.”

The dial tone that sounds tells me he ended the call. Well shit. Shifting into fifth gear, I speed down the highway to home.

It’s been a little over a week since we first drove out to what we now call The Chemist. I thought the name was fitting, they are making and selling drugs out of there after all. Since that day, Tanner has been monitoring their security cameras. We have a pretty good idea of their ‘work hours’, if that’s what you want to call it, and the schedule they are running on.

“I feel like an FBI agent,” I say out loud to myself.

No, Jesse, not cool. This is why I need Kinsley around, she’s my voice of reason.

“Repeat after me, we are not FBI agents. ” Before I can even repeat it back to myself, I break out into laughter. Far out, it really has been a long week.

Turning the ignition off, I collect my bag from the backseat and make my way inside. Lou-loo greets me, like always, wagging her tail and zooming up and down the entryway.

“Hey, girl,” I say, dropping my bag on the dining table. “I’ve gotta go to Tanner’s, so we won’t go for a walk –”

She barks at the mention of the W word.

“Crap, no, Lou, not tonight. I’ve got to go to Tanner’s; I’ll get you some dinner and then I need to go.”

She huffs in response, turning in a circle before plopping down on the rug.

“Yeah, I know. Hopefully things will go back to normal soon.”

Taking a leaf out of Tanner’s book, I waltz on into his house without knocking. His voice echoes loudly from somewhere within the walls, “My office – Second door on the left, past the stairs.”

“Roger that,” I say under my breath. I pass the stairs, heading down a hallway I’ve never taken notice of before.

An eerie feeling overcomes me as I enter his office and a chill runs up my spine. It’s dark and moody; there are no windows in this room; no life. A desk spans the length of the far wall where there are three PC monitors set up, each showing something different. Taking a step towards them, I focus my eyes on the first screen which is split into four and I recognise it as the live feed from The Chemist.

The second screen seems to have an assortment of documents and files he must be looking at, and the third screen is split into six — two cameras streaming both the front and back entrance of Twisted Sister, and the other four are cameras on Kinsley’s apartment; the front and back entrances, as well as her bedroom and downstairs living.

Suddenly, a firm hand clamps down on my shoulder and my whole body tenses.

“Middle screen — Sit,” Tanner demands, as he strides past me, further into the room. My exhale is long, longer than usual. How much air can I hold in my lungs and why don’t I realise when it happens? After a quick reminder to myself to continue to breathe, I sit down in the seat next to Tanner.

“You’re starting to have me worried. What’s going on?”

“Tell me what you see.” He splits the screen in two, on one side is a list of titles and descriptions, and on the other are files with the corresponding titles.

“Uh, you know I’m not very tech-savvy, man … But, I guess it looks like descriptions on one side and matching files on the other?”

He stays silent and clicks open the file titled ‘ PHOTO ONE ’. I shuffle closer, reading the description before allowing my eyes to flick to the image that has popped up on the other side of the screen. My heart begins to beat faster and the hairs on the back of my neck stand. What in the world have we got ourselves involved in?