6. Priest

When I don't seeBella the next night at the soup kitchen, I immediately begin to worry. I text Linda to ask if she's still staying at the shelter, and as I wait for a reply, my mind begins to wander.

What if she's hurt?

What if something happened?

What if she's in trouble?

When Stella gets in, I immediately ask her if she's heard from or seen Bella, knowing that's unlikely as Bella doesn't have a phone.

"Nope, but we could go by and check on her later?" Stella says.

I know Bella wouldn't miss coming here tonight, not after we had such a good day yesterday. Maybe she felt she'd opened up too much and I'd dug too deep? She didn't seem upset when she left. In fact, she was the happiest I've ever seen her. Not saying I had anything to do with that, but talking seemed to really help her. And it helped me too. I've never told anyone that much information about myself in a short space of time, but with Bella it's easy to open up.

I just can't help the uneasy feeling I have in my gut.

I barely get through the service, and when the doors close, I ask the guys if they'll look after things while I check on Bella.

When I glance at my phone, I see a text from Linda.

Linda

Hi, Priest. Yes, I've checked the register, she's still here

Me

Okay, thanks for that. I'm gonna come by and drop her off a phone if that's okay?

Linda

Of course, no problems

I take off as quickly as I can. Bella doesn't have to come every night, but I find it odd she didn't show up tonight. Something must've happened. I rack my brain with the endless possibilities, not once believing her not wanting to come could be an option, and when I arrive, I see Linda and she lets me drop off the phone. There are no visitors allowed at the center for safety reasons, but somehow that doesn't fill me with hope. She's also not in her dorm, so she's out.

The Soup Kitchen is closed, now I wonder if she didn't go there later, looking for help… my mind reels.

"I'll see that she gets the phone," Linda says. "I can text you when she gets back if you'd like? I'm on all night."

I nod. "Thank you, that'd be great."

I take off, that uneasy feeling settling in my bones.

A few hours later, Linda messages me.

Linda

Sorry, Priest. No sign of her yet.

It's past midnight now, and I know this can't be good. Should I go out and look for her? Where would I even begin?

I don't sleep a wink. The next morning there are no new texts from Linda and I wonder if she even made it back to the shelter at all. If she didn't, then where did she spend the night?

Did something bad happen?

Did I put ideas in her head and now she's doing unspeakable things for money?

The color drains from my face. Maybe this is my fault?

I stop by the shelter on my way to the clubhouse, but the new staff member on the desk says she never checked back in. I take the phone back, knowing I'll be giving it to her myself when I find her, and the girl promises to call if she comes to collect her things.

I start to scour the city. I don't know where people hang out when they have no place else to go, but I don't spot her in any of the parks, and nobody will give out her information at other shelters for security reasons. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place and I don't like it.

I try not to let my mind run away with me, but I know. I fucking know.

Sometimes having this sixth sense can be a gift, but on times like today, it feels more like a burden.

When I have to leave to get to the clubhouse, I'm tense and upset.

"You good?" Riot asks. "You look like someone just pissed in your cereal."

I glance up at him from my place at the opposite end of the head of the table.

"I'm fine." No use going into details, church is about to begin soon.

"Gotta be a woman," Riot goes on.

"What's gotta be a woman?" Nevada asks, giving me a chin lift.

"Just askin' Priest here why he's so glum," Riot informs him. "Wasn't sure if his bout of celibacy is now over."

I glance at Riot sideways. "Thanks, fuck face."

Nevada shoots me a look from across the table. "You really doin' that?"

"Let's not talk about it," I sigh.

Riot points at me. "See, that right there. Sheer frustration."

"You do look a little tense, bro," Nevada agrees. "What's up your ass if it's not a chick?"

"Can't a man just sit in silence and not be interrogated?" I raise an eyebrow.

Nevada chuckles. "That's rich comin' from you. I sat in a room with you for thirty seconds when we first met and you wormed my entire life story out of me."

That isn't entirely true, but I suppose not far off.

"Hey, it's not his fault he has a pretty boy face." Riot goes to squeeze my chin and I slap his hand away like a little bitch.

"Fuck off the two of you. You think I enjoy listenin' to you bitch about whiny little issues when you could be comin' down to the soup kitchen and puttin' your money where your mouth is?"

"Touchy today," Nevada snarks. "Must be no pussy, it's doin' stuff to you."

I suppose I was like him five years ago, but the novelty of women night after night surprisingly wears off fast.

"I doubt I need to take advice off a man whose Mom still makes his lunch," I throw back.

Riot chuckles.

"Hey, don't knock it, have you had one of her club sandwiches?" Nevada gives me a serious look. "I swear nothin' tastes as good as Mom's cookin', except Manny's, of course."

Nevada is lucky in the sense that he does have a Mom who cares about him and from what I've heard, loves him immensely. She's been around the club a few times and is fully supportive of her son being in an MC. If anything, she thinks it's done him good. If it keeps anyone on the straight and narrow then that's gotta be a good thing. Raising a kid alone can't be easy, and aside from Nevada's ridiculous sense of humor and the fact he has no filter,she didn't do a bad job.

"Speakin' of which, have you moved outta home yet?" Riot shoves him in the shoulder.

"Very funny. You know fine and well it's Mom who lives with me. Anyway, she's cool. We stay out of each other's way. I do all I need to do upstairs in my room." He gives us a wink.

Nevada makes decent money as a heavy-duty vehicle mechanic, mainly servicing trucks and buses. He bought the house he was renting with a decent sized casita for his mom to live in, which is kinda nice. I like that he looks after her.

"Pass me a bucket," Riot says. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

The other men pile into the room; Hawk, Jett, Ryder, Harlem, Tag, Bronco and finally Cash.

All the while, I'm checking my messages to see if Bella has been spotted back at the shelter. The feeling of uneasiness still washes over me and I can barely concentrate on what I'm doing.

Cash brings the room to order as everyone takes their seats.

Only the committee members are permitted in this room, and it's where all the important meetings take place. Usually it's just a general catch up on how all of the businesses are doing, but lately we've all been watching the saga unfold with the mob.

"You heard any more from the Irish?" Harlem gives Cash a chin lift.

"Nothin' worth us getting our panties in a twist," Cash replies. "Plan on skatin' under the radar for a long time to come. The Italians are caught off guard without half of their associates and soldiers. It'll be sometime before they can recruit those kinds of numbers."

"Meanwhile, Callaghan and his crew get a nice plug at lookin' like heroes for the citizens of New Orleans," Harlem says, his face twisted in a disapproving look. Callaghan is the once rookie cop, now detective, who hates bikers and can't wait to stitch us up for something. He's heavily involved in the task force meant to bring down organized crime in the city, and for the most part, he does just that. But there's no love lost between us. Most of the cops have been in the MC's pockets for years and look the other way when bad people disappear, but the same can't be said for Callaghan. He seems to have a general hatred for club members in particular.

"Someone has to take credit for it and look good at the same time." I shrug.

Hawk gives me a chin lift. "Things goin' okay downtown?"

"Yeah, but could do with a little more help."

"I've got a few hours," Harlem says. "Tag probably, too."

Tag grunts; a man of few words.

"Bikers are takin' over," Jett says. "You gonna be conductin' a sermon while you're over at Dan's church?" Chuckles ensue around the room. I know they think they're all funny, but I"ve got news for them.

"Nope, but I do have to stop by to check up on things and make sure nobody's set the place on fire," I reply. "The other pastor and priest take turns in runnin' the parish, bein' a small operation, it's not overly busy until the weekend."

"I've always wondered what would happen if I set foot inside a real church." Nevada looks over to me. "Whether I'd go up in flames or make a statue weep."

"While that's highly unlikely, anything's possible when it comes to you," I reply.

"So we're sittin' tight, goin' about our daily business as usual?" Bronco seems in a hurry to get things over with.

"Pretty much, which means we're all officially out of lockdown," Ryder answers.

Not that we were in a hard lockdown to begin with, but we're being overly cautious.

Nobody wants to have more blood on their hands, and certainly not putting our women and children at risk.

"And in the clear," Tag says. "For now." Being the Sergeant at Arms respectively, it's his job to look out for the club and our safety. He and Harlem take care of the prospects and keep everything running smooth within the ranks. If the prospects have an issue, they go to Harlem first before ever seeing Cash.

"There's nothin' tyin' us to that night other than Big Papa," Ryder reminds us. "And we know if he talks, we're all dead. If they get to him, then we all suffer."

"He also knows if we wanted him gone, we'd have done it by now." Cash glances around the table. "He's loyal to the club, too much is at stake. Plus if he rats, he'll just look like a liar when the Devils Ink were set up. Nobody suspects anything because we're that good, and I want to keep it that way."

"Then we have to keep our wits about us and stay calm," I say. "No good runnin' around worryin' about shit that hasn't happened yet. We've got a plan in place, and we stick to that."

The plan being that we barricade ourselves in the clubhouse should it come to that. It's the safest place to be, and being isolated out here gives us the advantage of not having nosy neighbors. We've survived a lot of shit these past few years, but getting involved with mafia wars is a whole new ballgame.

"Priest is right," Riot says. "The Irish will take care of any mob members gettin' too close to the French Quarter, if a turf war does ensue, it'll be their problem not ours."

"Another wise idea goin' legit, Prez." Nevada claps his hands. "As was handin' guns over to the Mexicans."

That's a whole other ballgame. Some of the guys pack heat, but I don't like guns, never have. Not to say I wouldn't use one, like I did in the shootout, but I prefer a blade. I carry a couple, not that anyone would be any the wiser.

Last year, the Mexicans, the Irish and the club all made a deal. We'd look the other way, and they would stick to their own turf. And that's all been working dandy until the mob moved back to New Orleans.

That knot in my stomach returns and I immediately think about Bella and what she's doing. I've not been able to relax all of last night, or this morning.

Then like magic, my phone buzzes.

Linda

Priest, Bella returned. I'm sorry to say, she wasn't in a good way. Call me ASAP.

My heart skips a beat as I stand and excuse myself. I hear a couple of snide remarks as I leave but I flip the two idiots; Riot and Nevada, the bird. I hit dial and Linda answers immediately.

"Priest, thanks for calling. I saw Bella this morning…"

"And? Is she ok?"

"She… well no, she had a cut above her eye and some swelling on one side. She wouldn't say what happened but it was clear she's been assaulted."

"I'll be right there." I hang up and run out to the lot toward my sled; it's faster. I've been taking my truck because I've been giving Bella and Stella a ride most nights. I also haven't told Bella yet I'm with the Rebels MC.

The mid-morning traffic isn't too crazy as I speed my way through downtown to the shelter. When I get there, Linda's in a flap because Bella ran out.

"You didn't tell her I was on my way?" I try to remain calm, but my voice gets higher and higher.

"There was no time, she was distressed, she wouldn't listen to me. I swear I tried, Priest."

I run both hands through my hair.

Bella's hurt and I've no fucking clue where she is. My mind races as I try to think.

I don't even know which fucking way she went. I could call Rock or Jett to hack into the security system in the street, but I doubt Cash would be too happy with me wasting club time when I probably won"t see much anyway.

"How badly hurt was she?"

"Just the cut above her eye and some swelling on one side. She was more shaken up, but she wouldn't tell me what happened."

"If she comes back, make sure I'm the first to know." I point at her.

"I will. I really tried, but we can't hold people here against their will, you know that."

I try to not take my anger out on her. I take a deep breath to calm myself. She's just doing her job. "I know, Linda. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself for not bein' a better friend."

I should've secured something better for her. I have the money. Fuck, she could live on my couch for all I care. I need her to be safe.

"You did all you could." She's trying to make me feel better but it ain't working.

"Did she say anythin'? Which way did she go?" I'm desperate.

"She went to the right and crossed the road. I can't be sure but she could"ve been heading toward the bus station. She said something to me about that during the week."

I'm such a fucking idiot. She did say about trying to get to Texas and the bus would be the cheapest route. I was going to find out more during her shift yesterday, but she never showed.

"I'll try there first."

"Good luck!" she calls after me.

I hop on my sled, fire her up and take off like a bat out of hell. I don't know anything about goddamn bus timetables, but if I make it in time, she'd be lucky to get there before the bus takes off.

I weave through traffic with blatant disregard and every minute that passes feels like an eternity. It's safe to say that I've taken protecting Bella to a whole new level, but she has nobody else to look out for her, and now she's hurt and probably trying to get on a bus to another state. The adrenaline pushes me on, and when I get to the bus station, I park and run through the terminal, trying to find her. I don't see her anywhere, just empty benches and a ticket booth.

Fuck!

I check the bus timetables and see the next bus for Texas is forty minutes from now. If she's going to try and make this bus, then she's going to be here soon. I start to pace, thinking of any other place she mentioned that she could be. When the time comes and goes, I get back on my bike and head to Dan's parish. That's the only other place she could be… and if I'm too late and she's already skipped town, maybe on another bus to another place, then I make a vow that I'll find her. I'll find her and make sure she gets all the help she needs; it's what she deserves after what she's been through. Most of which I'm still oblivious to. There is no question in my mind that she's spooked, and someone's hurt her badly. Her confidence wasn't the greatest to begin with, now she's right back where she was. Or worse. Seeing her smiling and happy yesterday only reminds me of how far she's come in a short space of time. And that's what hurts the most.