Chapter 33

Maverick

"This is im-fucking-possible," I roared as I paced the length of our sanctuary, thoroughly pissed off at the lack of progress in finding Trent. "It's unbelievable that we haven't been able to find this son of a bitch. Why?"

"Like I told you before," Slate began, his voice tinged with annoyance, "unless or until he rears his ugly fucking head, I can't find him. He hasn't used any credit or debit cards, and he hasn't done anything that requires him to use a government issued ID. But I got some information on the missing man."

His words stopped my pacing and my heart skidded to a stop. "What did you find?"

"Joel Stevenson. Aged thirty-two. Went missing almost seven years ago and his body was found two years ago in a shallow grave. The forensic evidence is minimal, which means they'll need a suspect before they'll consider testing."

That was good news, but it wasn't helpful. "Cause of death?"

"Looks like blunt force trauma, but nothing is public yet. Do you know if Trent or Grace are in the system? Fingerprints? DNA? Anything?"

"Doubtful, but I can ask her." The last thing I wanted to do was dredge up old memories for her, but it had to be done. "Any suspects?"

"Nah. Authorities are asking for details from anyone who encountered him in the days before he disappeared, but otherwise they haven't said anything concrete."

That wasn't at all what I wanted to hear. It was more important than ever that I found that asshole and got him to give up his claim to my girls or end him permanently.

Since movie night, something had changed with Grace. She was more attentive and affectionate, she was present in a way that let me know she was mine. The only thing that stopped her was Trent, I knew that. She never said the words, and I didn't think she would until she was totally free of him, which meant I needed to do better.

To be better.

For her and for Sophie.

"It's unreal that it's been three weeks since we've seen him or heard from him, but he hasn't popped up anywhere. The good news is that I think that helps me narrow down his location," Slate said.

"Yeah?" That was good news.

"There's a small pocket just off the Old Strip where the cameras are limited. It's pretty much a throwback and it's only a few square blocks."

I turned to Diesel and Rocky. "We're going. Right?"

"We are," Diesel confirmed, and my shoulders relaxed. "But you're not."

"What the fuck?"

"He's right," Rocky said in a calm, placating voice. "We can't risk you flying off the handle, no matter how much the fucker deserves it. We have a plan, and it requires you to stay here at the clubhouse. Bring your girls here and look after the women."

"Like a goddamned prospect?"

"No," Diesel roared. "Like a member of this MC willing to do whatever the fuck he's asked."

"Yeah, fine. I'll be back." I was pissed off but willing to do my part, even if it did cut me off at the balls.