Chapter 2

Chapter Two

SEBASTIAN

I didn't know what to do when Mo brought that girl in and she lost her marbles. I didn't know what was going on or why she was sobbing and wailing, but I know that I couldn't watch her like that, helpless and hurt and afraid without doing something. I scooped her up in my arms and put her in my bed. She needed privacy. Then, Mo explained everything and the whole fucking ordeal made my blood boil. How could someone treat any woman like that, any human being like that? That sick fuck will pay for what he's done, I'll make damn sure of it. Even if it means taking my time and murdering him with my own two hands, then so fucking be it.

Bristol is going to have a long road ahead of her. If she needs a ride to Wisconsin, then I'll bring her. I want to help her. I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress, but I really am only interested in helping this girl. Something about her situation tugs at me and it's more like I'm compelled to help her. She needs someone, and I'm determined to be that someone.

" Yo , Bash!" Joey, President of Tattered Saints MC, calls me to him. He's seated at our bar, sipping his usual glass of scotch on the rocks.

I stride over and take a seat next to him. The bar isn't open, so there's no one behind it right now. We usually only have a few prospects or new members behind it when there's a party going on, so it's not unusual.

"What's up?" I ask.

Joey takes a sip of his drink and sets it down.

"Mo had me do some digging for that girl. It's bad, man. Her parents, and brother were all brutally murdered the day she went missing. People are even saying she could have been the one to kill them."

I shake my head. There's no way in fucking hell that broken girl in there slaughtered her family and disappeared for six years. No fucking way in hell. If he considers that for one fucking second, he didn't see how the news of her family's death completely broke her. Broke as in she couldn't even fucking function anymore.

"Dude, there's no way she did that. You didn't see what I saw yesterday. I've never seen anyone in so much pain that hadn't been physically beaten and bleeding out. The news of her family's death shattered her."

Joey puts his hands up. "I wasn't saying that I think she did, I'm just telling you what I've found out by doing a little research."

My bones almost vibrate from the growing anger inside me. How can they say that? She's been through hell and now she's going to have to face people who are going to accuse her of murder.

"I'll be back later," I say, storming out of the clubhouse.

I need to clear my head before I break my fist. I don't know how anyone can treat a woman like that. A girl . She was only a teenager, for fucks sake. I grab my helmet and secure it before I take off down the highway. My bike purrs between my legs, the familiar feeling already beginning to calm my nerves.

The wind in my face has my mind clearing. I'm able to focus on rationalizing my thoughts rather than them being a clusterfuck. I have to find out where this guy's shop is and I know Mo will tell me. I'm surprised Mo hasn't killed him yet, or at least had him killed. No one who does that to someone deserves to breathe the same air we breathe. I hate this motherfucker so much and I've never laid eyes on him.

I'll talk to Mo when I get back and let Joey know we're going out later to find this sick fuck and make sure he never does this to anyone ever again. As the Sergeant at Arms of our club, I get to make these calls and so long as Joey doesn't have a solid reason as to why we shouldn't, then my decision is final, and my judgement stands.

My club won't pull out of this, that much I'm sure of. I race down the crowded streets of Gulfport, zipping in and out of traffic until I get to Beach Boulevard. The smell of saltwater fills my nostrils and I breathe it in happily. I moved here three years ago when I was barely twenty-one. I had a gambling problem, a drinking problem, and I was almost too far gone by the time Mo found me. He got me cleaned up and welcomed me into the world of the Tattered Saints MC.

I'm finally able to gamble a little without losing everything I've worked for. I learned a technique that works for me. I still drink socially, but nothing more than that. Mainly because I hate the person I am when I drink. I never want to fall back into that life again. I've worked too hard to get my life back and I refuse to go down that road ever again.

I ride through Biloxi and Ocean Springs before hitting the interstate and jetting back to our clubhouse. I feel better and a little less like I'm going to go off like a ticking time bomb. I want to be level-headed when I talk to this girl. The last thing she needs is some crazed fucking lunatic talking to her and trying to get information about what is probably the most traumatic experience of her life.

I'm going to have to give her some time before I start hounding her with questions. She's probably still a complete and total wreck. I can't blame her though. I pull up at the clubhouse and walk into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. I want to check on her, but I don't want to intrude on her personal space. We're all strangers to her.

Mo and Slim are sitting at the table. I walk past them into the bar, where Joey's still sitting exactly where I left him. The smell of scotch makes my nostrils burn, but I push past it.

"We need to talk."

"Okay. Shoot."

"I want an emergency church called for tonight. There are some things I need to bring to the table that can't wait."

"Done. I'll send out the text."

"Thank you."

I walk out of the bar, away from that god-awful smell and into the living room. There are two couches, a coffee table, an over-sized chair and an ottoman, and a few end tables with lamps on them. The floor is a nice, light-tan colored tile and the walls are a neutral beige. For a bunch of rough around the edges bikers, we like nice shit.

I sink into the chair, my favorite spot in the clubhouse, and grab my phone out of my pocket. I google Bristol, missing girl and multiple news articles appear. I read through them all and the context is the same. Bristol Tullier, seventeen, went missing on the evening of June 6 th , 2017. On the same day, her parents and brother were all brutally murdered. No one knows what happened to her or who would have a reason or motive to commit these crimes. Evidence left behind at the scene suggests that the killer was in fact a male, wearing a size ten shoe. No other physical evidence was found at the scene.

So many of the comments suggest that Bristol was seeing an older man, and he killed her family and they ran off together. They make it sound like she actually had something to do with her family's murder. People will believe anything the media tells them or anything they find on the internet. I wonder if she knows any of this, that people think she had something to do with these atrocious acts.

If she does, then she probably doesn't want to go home or anywhere close to it. If the media gets wind that she's no longer in captivity and hasn't come forward, they are going to ask so many fucking questions and it'll look like she actually did play a part in their deaths.

I lock my phone and toss it on the chair next to me. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention and I see a wild-eyed Bristol standing in the doorway of the hall.

" Uhh , hey," I stammer, tripping over my words. I know she can't hear my thoughts or see the things I was reading, but it still makes me uncomfortable for her.

"Hey." She walks into the living room cautiously and sits down on the smaller of the two couches.

"Did you sleep okay? You were really out of it, so I just put you in bed and let you be."

"Yeah. As good as I could under the circumstances. Thank you," she shrugs and averts her eyes from mine. She looks around the room, her eyes scanning over the paintings hanging on the walls that Slim just had to have as decorations in here. He said it, ‘completes the room'.

"Is there anything I can do for you? Are you hungry? Want to go somewhere? Need anything?" I ask. I want to help her in any way I can. She's got to be about ready to lose her mind.

She shakes her head. "No, I don't think so. I need to figure out what I'm going to do. This is all so… overwhelming." Tears swell in her eyes and I fist my hand at my side. I'm angry for her. For all the things she's experiencing right now. Her dark blue eyes have a depth like the ocean and the tears in her eyes are like waves cresting and crashing into the sand.

The brokenness I see in her makes me want to find some fucking glue and piece her back together. Her long brown hair cascades over her shoulders and is wild from her sleeping on it. The oversized t-shirt she has on hides her body.

"I want to help you."

She looks at me, her eyes meeting mine for the first time since she came out of my room. I bet she smells like me after sleeping in my bed. My dick starts to harden, and I sit up in the chair, thanking God I'm wearing jeans that are tight enough to hide my growing erection.

"You can start by helping me figure out what to do from here. What do people my age do? I don't have a diploma or a degree. I've got no work experience. I have no money. I have nothing," she hangs her head and I want to hold her and tell her it's going to be okay, but I don't know that. I don't know how to make everything okay for her.

"Bristol, there are some very complicated things I need to tell you. But I don't want to overwhelm you even more right now. Let's just focus on one step at a time right now. "

She cocks her head at me but doesn't speak. She simply nods and sits back on the couch.

"Can we start with clothing that isn't too big?" she asks.

"Yes, absolutely. I can get one of the ol'ladies to take you shopping."

She shakes her head no. "No. No. I don't have any money. I just meant is there anyone that might have something I could borrow."

"Don't worry about that. I can take care of it for now. You need clothes. Clothes that actually fit you."

She wants to fight me on it but oddly enough, she doesn't. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I check it to find the text from Joey about our emergency meeting in the group text.

I shoot Slim a text asking if Princess is busy today. It's Tuesday and I think she works a waitressing job. At least she did the last time we talked. It doesn't take long for him to respond. She's off today. Good.

I tap his contact info and call him.

"What's up? I just saw the text about church. What's Princess got to do with that?"

"Nothing. I need someone to take Bristol to get some clothes. You know, female shit."

"Shit. As long as it's an opportunity to go shopping and spend money, she's in." I can practically see him rolling his eyes through the phone. Princess spends every penny she makes on clothes, shoes, jewelry, and anything else that sparkles and catches her dainty little eye.

I chuckle. "I hear that."

"I'll tell Princess to get ready and send her by to get Bristol."

"Cool. I'll let her know."

I feel Bristol watching me intently from the corner of my eye and I fight the urge to smirk. I end the call and look over at her. She looks oddly excited.

"Princess is about to be on her way. I figure it'll take her about an hour to get here, so you've got a little bit of time."

"Thank you!" she squeals and disappears down the hall back to my bedroom. I'm not sure what she has in there, if anything, but I don't question it. I figure she can use the privacy and space. I didn't have parents growing up, just the typical foster parents that I got a new set of every couple of months because I was unruly. My parents didn't want me, at least my mom didn't, and she left me outside of a hospital. That's when the state stepped in and I ended up in the system.

I was just a paycheck to most of the families I lived with, they made that very clear. It was miserable but I survived. I can't imagine having parents that actually loved you and then finding out they're dead. I don't know how I'd react, so I can't question the way she's handling this.