Chapter Nine

Silver

It had been a week since anyone had heard from or seen Malice.

No one knew where he was or if he was still alive.

Okay, we knew the answer to the last one. We weren't stupid.

Still, it was strange not seeing him around the clubhouse, hiding in the shadows, listening and watching everything. By day three, Montana sent word to all the clubs to be on the lookout for Malice. He wasn't messing around anymore. He wanted Malice home. And though I wasn't ready to admit it, I did too.

There was something calming about having him lurking in the shadows, having my back. In a way, it relaxed me. It made me feel invincible, untouchable, secure. Without him, I felt adrift. I wasn't sleeping. I found myself skittish and always on guard.

I hated it.

I hated the way his absence made me feel.

To make matters worse, the club brothers gave me a wide berth. They seemed hesitant to engage me. Most just kept their distance. Word had spread throughout the clubhouse that Malice had claimed me.

Now, I was persona non grata.

The only ones who dared to even approach me were Montana, Bane and Torment, and the last two only checked on how I was healing. Bane was the utmost medical professional. Torment stuck to clinical talk, wanting to know my feelings and shit. As for Montana, he too, had changed. Before, our relationship was carefree. Easy. Now, it was strained and difficult, almost as if he couldn't bear to look at me but did so out of some warped obligation.

For the first time since I was sixteen, I felt like a veritable stranger around my family. Like I wasn't wanted.

Sitting behind the bar, I tried to get my head to shut off, yet nothing I did worked. Everything from the brothers' cautious glares to the look of disappointment in Montana's eyes bombarded me when a familiar sense of peace blanketed me. While familiar, it was darker, more sinister, more dangerous, and it had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

Slowly looking up, I turned toward the front doors and stared at the two men who were looking directly at me. Their cold, dead, dark eyes bored right down to the heart of my soul. I knew they saw everything. Every sordid and depraved detail of my life and when they smirked, I blinked.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Jumping at Montana's gruff voice, the newcomers frowned, then, one turned toward the voice.

"Not fucking asking you again, asshole."

As one of the men stood firm, never taking his eyes off me, the other adjusted his expensively tailored suit, and smiled. "Who we are is not your concern. We are here to speak with your bartender."

Montana chuckled. "Oh, fucker, that's where you're wrong. Everything regarding my bartender is my concern. Now get the fuck out before I remove you."

"Is she though?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your concern? We heard she belongs to another."

"And where the fuck did you hear that?"

"From me."

From behind the men, another walked in.

One I was familiar with.

One I'd only met once but knew Malice.

Slowly getting to my feet, I walked around the bar and headed straight toward the familiar face. I could see club brothers coming out of the shadows, watching, waiting for him to make one wrong move. Even Montana glared, keeping a tight watch on me as I stood before the familiar man.

"Hello, Little One."

"Is he with you?" I asked, keeping a tight rein on my emotions. Malice told me point blank when I first met the man to hide my emotions. That he hated them and would use them against me to get what he wanted. The man was cunning, smart as a whip, and deadly. More deadly than Malice, if that was to be believed.

The man lightly shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Little One. No. He is not with me."

"Will you help me find him?"

"Is that what you really want?"

Without thinking, I nodded. "Yes."

He smiled wickedly.

"Then I will do what I can."

I was about to thank him when someone grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled, forcing me to step back. The second I was against a familiar chest, Montana carefully pushed me behind him.

The man glared at Montana but didn't move.

Instead, he took a long hard look at the man who'd taken care of me, protected me, loved me since I was sixteen years old and shook his head as we all heard Pippen saunter in from one of the back offices, singing like a fool to some stupid song.

Turning, we all watched the club's new intern jam to whatever he was listening to in his headphones, when he looked up and stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in fear. Gulping, Pippen slowly removed his headphones when I heard a man growl.

Pippen quickly backtracked a few steps.

"Now, Silas. Think before you do anything stupid."

"When I get my hands on you," the man named Silas sneered, walking menacingly toward the intern.

"I didn't have a choice," Pippen squealed like a little girl, running toward the bar like that would protect him, only to run smack dab into Payne.

"Grow a pair, Intern." Payne groaned, pushing Pippen off him.

"Come here, you little shit," Silas sneered, reaching for him, but Pippen was too fast and ran straight for Montana, pleading.

"Please, boss. I'll do anything. Just keep him away from me!"

"ENOUGH!" Montana roared, shoving the clingy scaredy-cat off him. "Maybe you can explain, Intern. Like fucking now."

Pippen nodded, looking over his shoulder at Silas who was standing within arm's reach of him, grinning evilly.

"Go ahead. I dare you."

"I don't have all fucking day. Speak!" Montana roared.

Gulping, Pippen looked from Montana to Silas several times, before turning to the man I knew and whispered, "Parlay?"

The man crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

"Not this time, Dante."

Pippen's shoulders slumped as he sighed. "Well, this is just great. I tell my Prez and Silas will beat my ass. I don't—"

"And I'll beat your ass," Montana finished for him, glaring.

No one moved as we all looked at the intern.

Had to give Pippen props. He kept quiet a whole second longer than I thought he would before he started spilling his guts.

Thumbing his thumb behind him, he clearly said, "That evil bastard behind me is my older brother, Silas Sharp, and those two standing over there are Rowen Shay and Crispin Sinclair."

The second Pippen said their names, Montana turned to the ringleader and glared. "You are the fucker who wants to buy the Playground?"

"Have."

"Have what, asshole?"

"Purchased the Playground."

"What?" Mercy asked, as he walked toward Montana. "I just got the email last week. I didn't sign shit. As co-owner—"

"But you're not, are you?" Crispin interrupted, totally relaxed, as if being in a motorcycle club surrounded by big, badass bikers was nothing to him. "You signed over your shares to Malice after your wife returned. Unless I am mistaken?"

"How the fuck did you know that?" Montana growled.

"I know quite a bit, Mr. Stone. Quite a bit."

"Boss," Pippen muttered, inching closer. "Silas is looking at me funny."

Shaking off the intern, Montana glared at the man Pippen claimed to be his older brother. "You really his brother?"

Silas grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest. "Unfortunately."

Montana smirked. The next thing I knew, Montana shoved Pippen toward his brother as the large man grinned and grabbed Pippen by the back of the neck. Montana then turned to Mr. Sinclair.

"Where the fuck is my brother?"

Mr. Sinclair simply said, "Which brother do you mean? Kansas and Arizona are in Lawton, Oklahoma with your mother, Virginia and her partner, Happy. As for Dakota, he's taken a government contract and is out of the country."

Montana growled and took a step closer.

Reaching for Montana's arm, I stepped in front of him and pleaded, "Please don't."

"I'd listen to her," Mr. Sinclair advised.

Looking at the man, I carefully worded what needed to be said. "This is my family, Mr. Sinclair. I care for them very much. Please. As a favor to me, just answer Montana's question. If you know where Malice is, please tell us."

The man looked at me and I watched his face soften. Taking a step closer to me, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to me, clearly stating, "I'm sorry, Little One. I would very much like to help you with this, but this is Malice's journey. He needs time to understand everything and accept who he is. Until that happens, my hands are tied. However, if you ever have need of me, I will make myself available."

Taking the card, I looked at it and nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. Sinclair."

"You may call me Sin, Little One."

"Silver, sweetheart, you have to tell us how you know that man?" Mercy asked, leaning forward in his chair as Montana paced the boardroom like a caged animal.

After Mr. Sinclair gave me his card, he and his two men left without any more fanfare, taking Pippen with them. While I wasn't positive that Pippen went willingly, something in my gut told me that the young intern would be back sooner rather than later.

The second they were gone, Montana rounded on me and escorted me into the boardroom, where he insisted I sit in his seat while the rest of the board filtered in. Everyone was in attendance, minus Malice, whose chair sat empty.

Looking at the man next to me, I whispered, "I can't tell you. Malice made me promise."

Mercy sighed, then leaned back in his chair as he looked toward Montana.

"Silver," Montana said, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the fury building inside of him. "I love you, girl. Will kill the world for you, but you have to give us something here. Anything."

"I want so much to tell you what I know, but I can't. You've always told me that when a brother confides in me, I should lock it away and never speak of it again. That my word is paramount. Unbreakable. Don't make me go back on my word. Please."

Fury chuckled, shaking his head. "She's got a point, Montana. You did say that."

"I know!" Montana huffed, raking his hands through his hair. "Just never thought she'd use my own words against me. Mercy, you said you've met the man. Tell us what you know?"

"Like I said before, Crispin Ulysses Sinclair isn't a man you ever want to fucking cross. You think Maxim is fucking dangerous? Crispin makes Max look like a fucking Boy Scout. He's got his hands in everything, and I mean everything. He is a self-made billionaire who doesn't give two fucks about anything or anyone. If he wants something, nothing will stop him from achieving his goal. The man is singular, and extremely fucking dangerous."

"How did you meet him?"

"We met at the Den. An exclusive BDSM club in Seattle. He was there on business. And before you even ask, Montana, no, I never found out why he was there. But someone else was there. Someone that might know."

"Who?"

Mercy smirked and said, "Popeye."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Montana roared. "Our Popeye? The same fucker who is in the fucking wind!"

"You asked." Mercy chuckled.

"I'd suggest calling Sypher, but Montana severed that option the last time the kid was here." Payne frowned, stating the obvious.

"Don't need that little shit," Montana groaned.

"Well, you just handed over our little shit to his brother. Not a fucking good move, all things considered," Payne clipped back.

"Do we have any leads on Popeye?" Fury asked.

"Have you checked Stone Corporation? He has a room on the top floor. He likes to stay there when he needs time to think," I offered.

And just like that, all eyes were on me again.

"What did you just say?"

"Stone Corporation. Popeye has a room on the top floor. I thought you knew?"

And just like that, Montana, along with the rest of the board members, bolted from the room.