Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hornet

It didn’t take the whole club to track down one dipshit in a pickup truck, so Storm had asked Celt, Grit, Mason, and Bones to go with me. They were some of the best trackers in the club. Since our target wasn’t a member of the mafia or a gang member, we didn’t gear up too heavily. That meant we were out the door in record time.

Standing around our bikes. Storm had us all sign into our encrypted portal and look over the intel Hacker had gotten for us. “As you can see, we have his home address, his girlfriend’s address, and the address of his business—which is a shitty garage on the wrong side of town. Hacker gave us some backups, mostly bars and poolhalls where he’s known to hang out. The last address is a strip club.

“We’re obviously hitting his home first, since it’s the weekend,” Grit said.

Celt, our road captain, nodded. “I mapped out the routes we’re going to use. This is mostly highway, shortest point between here and there.”

“Let’s go brothers, we’re burning daylight.” Storm said, and my club brothers all headed to their rides.

Eager to find this fucker and dole out the kind justice that only the Slayers could give, I jumped on my bike. From my perspective, this was a double win. I not only got a nice ride in the morning, but getting my hands on the stupid fucker who ran my woman off the road was going to make my day.

I had been holding in all this rage and frustration as I watched her suffer over the last week and some change. It was infuriating to see how badly this accident had messed her up. Today, all that rage was going to get a chance to come out and play.

***

It took us around fifty minutes to reach her ex’s house. Tate lived in a little cottage with white shutters and a neatly trimmed lawn. Not at all what I was expecting for this domestic abuser, though according to the records Hacker found, the cottage had belonged to his grandmother. We surrounded the house and Storm used a thermal imaging scanner to see if he could detect anyone inside.

“It’s not picking up any signals, but it’s finicky at times. We need to do a sweep and look for evidence. Everyone, take your positions.”

Storm and I moved to the front of the house. I kicked in the door and Storm flew in first with me at his heels. Our guns were drawn as we moved through the living room. I spied a pile of coke on the coffee table. By the time we made it to the stairs, Celt and Grit had entered through the back door and cleared the kitchen and dining room. They headed towards the basement, and we headed upstairs.

We cleared what was basically the attic space that had been renovated into a rough extra bedroom. Celt called to us when he heard us coming back down the stairs. We lowered our weapons and tromped down to the basement. This was where the real action was.

Piled in one corner were a huge stack of boxes. Celt reached inside the nearest box and held up a magazine. “It’s all porn. Some weird shit, but nothing illegal.”

“Sick fucker,” Storm sneered, as he looked in another box. I thought our club president was being a bit judgmental, but then I caught sight of one of the magazines. The cover featured a young teen, the title said barely legal, but she looked far from it. “Sick fucker,” I echoed.

“He might not be into it himself. Could be he’s just making a quick buck by selling the shit other sick fuckers want to buy,” Grit mused.

“Either way, he’s a dead man if he had anything to do with Brook’s accident,” I announced without giving a damn what anyone thought.

“I agree with Hornet on this one,” Celt grumbled as he slung the magazines back into the box.

I knew his daughter, Dusty, wasn’t much older than the girls in the magazines—even having her dating Corey who was near enough her age riled him, let alone the thought of older men perving over her.

Was I gonna be like that with Ariel? Hell, yeah… I reckoned it was hardwired into fathers. Your little girl was always gonna be your little girl.

Storm pulled out several desk drawers and discovered more drugs and a pile of cash. He pocketed the cash and kept rummaging.

I left my club brothers searching the basement and headed back upstairs to have a look around. There was no trace of my Brook anywhere in this house that I could see. Normally, men were obsessed with the women they stalked and kept trophies. I pried off several vent covers and felt around. Inside one, I found money hidden in a little crochet bag. It looked very much like grandma’s rainy-day fund, hidden to keep her addicted grandson from snorting it all up his nose. The dumbass probably didn’t even know it was there. I pocketed the cash, threw the bag back into the vent, and replaced the cover.

I handed over the cash to Storm when I met back up with everyone. Money gathered on job was club money. I sure didn’t need to steal cash to survive. Storm, being our club president, would find something worthy to spend it on.

Storm shoved it into his pocket and announced, “Let’s load up. We’re hitting his garage next. If he’s not there, we’ll choose another location.”

***

Once we were back on the road, I had time to process what I’d seen at his house. One thing kept running through my mind. If he was obsessed enough with Brook to follow her and run her off the road, why wasn’t he obsessed enough with her to keep any of her stuff? There were no pictures, mementos, nothing.

Maybe he was the kind of sick bastard who liked to keep his trophies electronically. The thought of him having images or video clips of Brook that he jerked off to twisted something deep in my heart. He had no right to anything that had to do with my Brook. I made a vow to myself right then and there to check all of his electronic equipment.

We pulled into the narrow road leading to Tate’s garage and left our bikes there. Then made our way on foot through the parking lot of the garage, where two of the bays were open. Rather than going in through the front door, we slipped in through the bays, hoping to catch them unawares.

That minute one of them saw us, he made a grab for a large rolling toolbox. I wasn’t taking any chances on him pulling out a knife or a gun, so I closed the distance between us and rammed into him with my shoulder, sending him sprawling across the concrete floor.

I pointed to him and growled, “Stay down. Do not get up until I give you permission.”

Bones and Mason wrangled the fairly confused second man into an office and shut the door.

“Get the fuck up, Tate, and let’s have a little talk,” Storm said menacingly.

“Why are you guys barging into my place? I don’t have any beef with the Slayers. Hell, I don’t even know any of you.”

“A woman associated with our club was the victim of a hit and run,” Storm explained gruffly.

Relief flooded his face. “Oh, I get it, you want me to do vehicle repairs. I can do that. We have an opening in our schedule. There’s no need to be hostile to get me to prioritize your jobs.”

“No, you stupid fucker,” I said firmly. “Someone ran her off the road. Where were you on the seventh at around eight p.m.?”

The man shook his head, looking pensive. “Jesus, that was almost two weeks ago. I can’t remember exactly what I was doing, but I didn’t witness any accidents.”

“The woman is someone who’s very familiar to you. You’re the prime suspect. So, the best thing you could do right now would be to think back to what you were doing that evening.”

“I’ve never fucking known anyone I disliked enough to run off a fucking road, much less a woman.”

“This woman is one of your former girlfriends.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific. I’ve had dozens of fucking relationships in my lifetime.”

“Her name is Brook Arnold. Don’t even try to play dumb with me. I happen to know you were together for years.”

“Brook fucking Arnold? What’s that skank been up to?”

I backhanded him across the face before I even thought about it. “She’s mine, you stupid fool. Get your head out of the damn gutter and answer my fucking question.”

He wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and his gaze turned assessing. “What the hell makes you think I’d hunt down someone I haven’t seen in over a year to run her off the road?”

“I don’t know. Crazy people do crazy things. You’re a domestic abuser, so maybe you happened by and decided to fuck up her world just for fun.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Brook never got anything from me that she didn’t deserve. I tried my best to take care of her and all she did was constantly fuck my life up. This is an excellent example. I haven’t so much as thought about her for months and now you’re here smacking me around like I’m some kind of little bitch because she got in a fucking car accident.”

“We don’t have all fucking day to screw around with you. Just answer the man’s question,” Storm barked.

Tate ran his hand through his hair and concentrated for a moment before shaking his head.

I was getting exasperated with this idiot. “It was the Friday before last. Even a complete idiot like you should be able to remember what you did two Fridays ago.”

His face lit up. “Oh, me and my old lady go to the strip club over in Lawndale on Fridays. I close up early, we stop for dinner, and then hit the club. You know, we make an evening of it. Charlene calls it our date night.”

Grit barked a laugh from the doorway leading to the office. “Your old lady likes watching women strip? Or do they have men strippers for the ladies?”

“No. They don’t fucking have male strippers. If they did, I wouldn’t be going there, now would I?” Tate said.

Storm asked, “So, does that strip club happen to have security cameras to verify your story?”

“I’ve never noticed camera inside, but they might have them outside.” Looking from one to the other of us, he asked curiously, “Why the hell are you all so worked up about this? Car accidents happen all the time. I was in one myself not long ago. I didn’t gather my buddies and go hunt the other driver down.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You think this is some kind of overreaction?”

Before he could answer, Storm said, “Why don’t you show us your truck and let’s see if the damage matches up with the damage to Brook’s vehicle.”

“Jesus Christ, God Almighty. You assholes are pissing me off.”

I took a step closer. “Being pissed off is going to be among the least of your problems if you don’t show us your fucking tuck.”

He shoved one hand into his front pocket, fished out his keys, and tossed them to Storm. “It’s the blue Tahoe out front, but you probably already know that.”

“Yeah, we do. Try to calm the fuck down,” Storm said.

When he turned to leave, Tate called after him, “Try not to tear my tuck apart looking for non-existent evidence.”

I held out my hand. “Unlock your fucking phone and give it to me.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m clearly not in the mood for jokes. I want to see if you have anything related to Brook stored on your phone.”

He sighed and pulled out his phone. I heard him grumbling under his breath about how ridiculous we were being. The second I had the phone in my hand, I jogged outside to have a look at his truck.

Storm saw me coming and I could tell by the look on his face the damage didn’t match. “Sorry, Hornet, it looks like Tate was rear ended. There’s no damage on either side of his truck and it looks like he hasn’t washed it in a really long time. My best guess is it wasn’t him.”

I started going through his phone and it was nothing but texts with his girlfriend, touching base with his employees, and tons of weird porn—no teenage porn or anything violent I was pleased to see, so maybe the magazines back at his house were a friend’s. Though the guy was still a sick fucker for keeping that stuff. “There was no trace of Brook at his place, his vehicle clearly isn’t the one that ran her off the road, and Hacker was pretty clear that he only had one vehicle registered in his name.” I lifted the phone in my hand. “And he doesn’t have any photos or videos of Brook on his phone.”

“All the clues point to it being someone else,” Storm said.

“Are we done here?” Celt asked when he joined us outside.

I shook my head. “Give me a minute. I’m going to tune him up for the beatings he gave Brook.”

Celt’s face lit up. “I’ll give ye a hand, brother.”

“I get to throw the first and last punch.” Celt had a hard-on for giving domestic abusers a good beat down, but I wasn’t about to let him edge me out of the action.

“Killjoy,” he muttered.

The minute we walked in, I tossed Tate his phone and threw him a mean right hook the second I got close enough to reach him. He went sprawling across the floor.

Celt chuckled. “I’d feckin’ forgotten why they call you Hornet.” Bending down to look Tate in the face, he asked, “Did that sting?”

Tate shoved himself up from the floor and glared at me. “What in the ever-loving fuck was that for? I answered your questions, gave you a chance to look over my truck, and even let you look through my phone.”

“Yeah, and what I saw on your phone left me wishing I could bleach my eyes.”

“Okay, I like porn. So what? There aren’t any kids or snuff stuff.”

“You had better thank your lucky stars for that, because if I’d found depraved shit like that, you might not make it out of this garage alive. That barely legal stuff we found at your house was bad enough, you sick fuck.”

“We’re square now that you know I had nothing to do Brook’s car accident, right?”

“Yeah, we’ve cleared you as a suspect for running Brook off the road. We’re not square for all the times you hurt her in the past, though.”

“Jesus Christ, not that again. I already told you that bitch fucked up my life more times than I can count.”

I threw another punch and dodged when he tried to hit me back. “You’ve spent too much time fighting women and it shows,” I mumbled before giving him a gut punch that doubled him over.

He started moving forward, clearly intending to tackle me. I waited until he got close and brought my knee up to make contact with his face. He fell sideways to the floor and shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs from his brain.

He held up one hand, and just seeing his arm gave me an idea for the perfect revenge. I stepped forward, grabbed his wrist, and slammed the palm of my hand into the backside of his elbow. When he howled in pain, I asked, “Is this how you shattered Brook’s arm?”

When he didn’t answer, I bent down to look him in the eyes. His nose was bleeding. The cut on his lip that I gave him when we first arrived had doubled in size. His eye was beginning to swell shut. “Doesn’t feel very good when someone breaks your fucking arm, does it, you jackass?”

“You’re fucking crazy,” he said in a hoarse whisper as he held his arm close to his chest.

“Don’t ever even think about contacting Brook. If you do, I swear to God, I’ll give you a fucking dirt nap.”

“I wasn’t thinking about her in the first fucking place, asshole.”

I punched him in the ear and turned to leave.

Celt frowned. “Ye didn’t give me a feckin’ chance to get in even one good punch.”

I shrugged off his grumbling. “It’s for the best. You know how your old lady gets when she sees you with skinned knuckles.”

When we walked out of the garage and back to where we’d parked up, Storm and the others were waiting for us beside our bikes. “Where does this leave us in terms of potential suspects?”

“I think her old man’s a dick head. He found out around the time Brook turned eighteen that she wasn’t his kid and totally disowned her. I’m thinking that maybe he’s been stewing about this for a few years and decided that disowning her wasn’t enough. It could be he passed her by happenstance and did something impulsive. Or maybe he didn’t like her mother slipping around to spend time with her, and running her off the road was his way of getting rid of the problem.”

“That sounds like extreme-level revenge. That might piss off a controlling man enough to do something stupid,” Storm said. “Let’s link with Hacker and let him see what information he can dig up on her old man. I don’t like going into situations blind.”

“As eager as I am to find the fucker who did this, I don’t like leaving Brook alone right after she got out of the hospital, so I’m going to head home. She’s with her mom right now, but if her old man has anything to do with her accident, I’m not happy leaving them unattended.”

Storm nodded. “I don’t blame you for being worried. Let us know if you need anything. You know we’re all here for you.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know. God knows I need the brotherhood more than ever right now.”

Before I got on my bike, I quickly pulled out my phone and checked the live security cam feed. Everything looked fine, Brook and her mom were in the living room chatting. Pocketing my phone again, I swung my leg over my Harley and revved the engine.

When we went our separate ways, we passed an ambulance which was likely headed to the garage. I knew a decent man would at least feel guilty for intentionally breaking a man’s arm. Not me. I was more of a vindictive kind of man, so I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over this situation.

As I rode home, I turned the situation with Brook’s father over in my head. Her mother had called him stubborn, but it seemed more like he was controlling to me. I’d dealt with men like him before, the ones who like to get people into situations where they don’t have much of an option besides do as their told. It was abusive to take away another person’s personal freedom to make their own choices. I knew that regardless of what I said earlier, giving her old man a beatdown would never be an option. I would have to be smart and find another way to get justice if this turned out to be her father.