Epilogue One

Luc

Two days later,

"Hey, Luc. Got a visitor." Frost said, poking his head in the doorway while I sat behind my desk typing some numbers into my computer.

"Who is it?"

"Some chick looking for Anne."

"The part-time waitress? Haven't seen the bitch in weeks."

"Said the same thing."

"Get Ivy to talk to her. I'm busy."

"Ivy's not back yet and the chick is insistent she speaks to you."

Groaning, I got up and walked around my desk.

"I don't have time for this shit."

"Know that."

"I've got that shit Sharp uncovered to deal with."

"Know that too."

Grumbling, I walked into the main room to find a young girl standing nervously by the front door.

"Thought you said it was a chick. That's a fucking kid," I muttered, walking right over to the scared kid. "I'm Luc. How can I help you?"

Motioning for her to sit down, I did the same, trying to put the kid at ease. I couldn't help but notice her hands trembling while she looked wildly around the room.

"I've never been in a biker club before."

"That means you're smart. Now tell me what you came to say. I've got shit to take care of."

"Anne told me you were gruff and to the point."

"Burning daylight, kid."

"I lived with Anne. She was my so-called guardian of sorts. I used to babysit her little girl. In return, Anne let me sleep on her couch. We helped each other out, you see. Well, about a month ago, I went to the store for some groceries, and when I got back, Anne and her daughter were gone. The place was a mess. Broken furniture, shattered glass, all their clothes were still in the drawers. I haven't seen them since."

"Did you go to the police?"

The girl shook her head. "No, sir. I can't do that for several reasons, besides, Anne told me that if she ever disappeared, to come find you. That you would know what to do."

"Why are you coming to me now?"

"Because Anne told me to wait one month before I did."

Frowning, I leaned forward. "Why did she say that?"

"I don't know. Only that she made me promise. One month."

"Jesus Christ," Frost muttered. "She wanted to make sure her trail was cold."

The front doors opened, and my woman, along with Indigo and Pyle, walked in laughing as Trash followed closely behind them. An orange fur ball peeked out of the stupid fucking pack my brother wore under his cut. Ever since Ivy took Trash to pick a pussy, the crazy fucker carried that damn cat everywhere he went. Bastard refused to put him down. That fucking kitten was mean as hell, too. Little shit had the biggest fucking paws I'd ever seen on a kitten before.

When Ivy and Indigo laid eyes on the girl, their laughter stopped.

"London?" Ivy whispered as the girl rushed to her, hugging my woman tightly.

Indigo frowned before motioning me over to the bar.

Knowing that the girl would be more comfortable with Ivy, I took a seat on a stool while Indigo spoke, "Luc, that's London Stewert. The chick I was following a few months ago. You know, the one with the baby-fresh birth certificate."

"Get your eyes checked, Indigo. That's a fucking kid. Girl can't be older than thirteen. Did you ever do the follow up on her?"

"No. Shit kind of hit the fan around here. Never had the chance."

"Well, you better get to it now. Kid says Anne went missing a month ago, her kid too."

"Trail's cold. Won't be easy to find."

"Do your best," I ordered while Ivy walked over to me, worried.

"Anne left me a note," she said, handing it to me.

Opening it, I read.

Ivy,

Remember that secret I told you? Call this number 917-405-5312. He will know what to do.

Take care of London for me.

Anne

"917. That's a New York City area code," Indigo said, looking at the note, flipping his phone open before dialing the number.

Putting his phone on speaker, it rang once before a thick Russian accent answered.

"Hello?"

"Um, hello. I was told to call this number and give you a name," Ivy said, looking at me as I shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm waiting." The Russian man sighed.

"Aksana Baranov."

Silence reigned for several seconds before Ivy said, "Hello. Are you there?"

"I will take care of it from here. Thank you for calling."

The line went dead.

"Who the fuck was that?" I asked, looking at Indigo, knowing the fucker was running his trace program.

"Number belongs to a Vladmir Ivenok. He's Russian Bratva."

"What the fuck does the Russian Bratva want with my waitress?"