Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Serena

It’s been a little over a month since I found out Gina died. I sent flowers and attended her funeral virtually, because Siege and Smoke insisted that going in person was too dangerous. The grief hit me a little harder than I expected. Some days, I still can’t believe she’s gone. I’ll watch a video on social media that I know she would love, and my finger goes for the share button before I realize what I’m doing. It’s heart wrenching every single time I forget she’s no longer in the world of the living.

Smoke is convinced that Stan killed her. But as violent and despicable as he is, I just can’t imagine Stan doing to her all the things the police documented. The Savage Legion have an ally at Las Salinas PD. He contacted the Buffalo police and requested case information on Gina, saying he had a similar case here in Las Salinas and he thought it might be linked. That did the trick. Cops share information with other cops to keep civilians safe.

Smoke was looking at the file at work and kept insisting that I didn’t want to read it. The thing is, Gina was my friend. I had to know what happened to her. I wasn’t the type to simply look away and be able to sleep at night. I went into his office while he was in a meeting and read the whole report, cover to cover.

Afterwards I was sick to my stomach and vomited. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately, since finding out that Gina had been murdered, and the suspicion that Stan had something to do with it, was stressing me out. My appetite had gone, and I felt nauseated a lot of the time. However, what I read in the file today was gut wrenching. My friend had been strangled to death and her body had been desecrated afterwards. I can’t imagine why anyone would do something like that. She was innocent. She didn’t deserve to die before she really got a chance to live. What kind of person mishandles or abuses dead bodies enough to damage them? It’s no wonder her parents had been so absolutely devastated. The thought of Stan doing something like that, did not fit with the man I knew at all.

I’m still living with Smoke. Of course, the brothers didn’t want me out on my own until whoever killed Gina was caught. I hope and pray whoever it turns out to be, ends up being arrested, tried, and convicted. He deserves to be locked up for life. No one who did stuff like that should be allowed to walk the streets or have any measure of freedom.

To be honest, with all the grief, missing my friend, and the brothers traipsing all over the place looking for the killer behind every bush, there hasn’t been much time or interest in sex. Smoke was the world’s best cuddler though. I had to give him credit where credit was due.

I’m lost in my own thoughts when I hear Smoke come out of his office. He stops in front of my door and asks, “Are you okay, princess?”

I stand up from my desk and walk out to greet him. “Yeah, I’m doing a lot better since I started talking to that grief counselor you linked me up with. How about you?”

“I’m getting frustrated that your ex seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. He stopped showing up for work, hasn’t touched the money in his bank account, or swiped his credit cards in almost a month.”

I think it over for a minute before saying, “I’m starting to think that whoever killed Gina might have done something to Stan as well.”

“Or he’s holed up with his extended family in some isolated location, because he’s afraid of being arrested for her murder.”

I can tell by the tone of his voice that Smoke didn’t think much of my idea that Stan could be a victim too. I didn’t know why that would be hard for him to imagine. Often men who thought they were real bad asses by hitting women, ended up getting preyed upon by bigger, badder, and more ruthless predators.

“Either way, her killer is still walking free,” I say bitterly.

Smoke reaches out to draw me into the circle of his arms. “I’m sorry, sweetness. I know that I promised you I would find him, and I haven’t.”

Guilt swamps my mind. “Please don’t take that as a complaint. Trust me, it wasn’t. I just hate that whoever did this is still walking around out there free to kill other innocent people.”

Marge came to the door of my office, “Excuse me, Mr. Drake. Your three o’clock is here.”

He turns to me, “Are you going to be okay while I meet with the Orbans?”

“Of course. What kind of question is that? Just because I’m extra angsty today doesn’t mean you need to rearrange your schedule around me.”

“Alright,” he murmurs. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“I will. Now get going before Marge comes back in here and rips you a new butthole.”

After he leaves, I stroll out to the reception area, “I’m going to walk down to the coffee shop. Do you want anything?”

Without glancing up she replies, “Mr. Drake is not going to like you going out alone, he told me about those messages.”

“I’m going to take that as a no,” I respond chipperly.

***

I make it halfway to the coffee shop when a shadow appears beside me on the pavement, I momentarily panic, then breathe a sigh of relief as I look up to find Evan, Rigs’ teenage son strolling along beside me. I remember Smoke telling me how Mattie and Rigs rescued him from some criminal enterprise called the syndicate, and then adopted him. Even though he’s only a teen and at fourteen isn’t old enough to legally ride, he’s wearing a prospect’s cut.

He asks, “Did they shoot him yet?”

I glance up at him. “Did they shoot who?”

“The man who killed your friend. My dad says the Legion is going to track him down and give him a dirt nap.”

“That’s the first I heard of that. Are you sure about your intel on this one, Evan?”

“My mom says they’re going to find him and turn him over to the police. Which do you think is going to happen?”

Did this teen like the idea of the bad guy getting his comeuppance, or was he fascinated by people being killed, I wondered.

I choose to answer his question with a question. “Do you want him to wind up dead or do you think jail is a good enough punishment?”

He starts walking backwards so he can face me while we walk along the sidewalk. “I don’t know. The man who abducted me ended up dead. He didn’t kill anybody though, at least I don’t think so. He was supposed to kill me but couldn’t go through with it. That’s why I’m still alive. But I think he upset someone else, and they killed him.”

That was fascinating in and of itself. I decide to come clean with him. “I don’t want anyone killed. I’d rather him be in jail if at all possible. That way, no one has to feel guilty about taking a human life.”

“That’s a good plan. My dad says that killing stains the soul. I hope I never have to kill someone to save myself or someone else. I will if I have to, but I’d rather not.”

I hate that this poor boy has been through so much that he’s actually had to consider this, rather than play video games like other teens. He’s a good kid. I like that Evan has taken an interest in talking to me, I feel like his big sister in a lot of ways.

“I didn’t realize you were a prospect now?” I ask.

His face lights up. “I’ve been a prospect for the last eight days.”

“How do you like it?” I ask as we enter the coffee shop.

He flings his hair out of his face by throwing his head to the side sharply. “I like the idea of being part of a brotherhood. It feels good after not having anyone but my grandmother growing up.”

“Speaking of which, how’s she doing? Did she like the cookies we baked for her?”

He grins, “Oh yeah, she loved them. Walnut shortbread is her favorite. She liked that we crushed up the walnuts really small so she could eat them better.”

“I do that for my mom as well. One day, someone will bake us special cookies when we’re too old to bake for ourselves.”

“Yeah, because we have family. I never thought I’d have a chance at anything like this.”

“Well, I grew up in the Savage Legion MC, and never knew any other way existed.”

I place an order for my usual while we chat.

Evan looks at me curiously. “Your dad was Claw, right?”

I nod, “Yes. He was a veteran who wanted to give young men a chance to be part of something bigger than themselves. He used to talk a lot about personal integrity and taking responsibility for your actions. I’ll bet your dad can tell you all about the good old days.”

Evan clears his throat while staring suspiciously around the coffee house. “Yeah, he’s told me a lot of stories about Claw. He sounded like a pretty great guy.”

“He was, and so is your dad. He was the very first member of the Savage Legion. Did you know that?”

“Yeah, several brothers have pointed it out. I’m real proud of him for that.” After a slight pause, he asks, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Not at all. If I know the answer, I’ll tell you.”

“What was it like for you as a girl growing up in a man’s world? Your old man wouldn’t let women join the Savage Legion. It seems unfair. How did you feel about that?”

“It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t join. I was allowed to come and go to the clubhouse as I pleased, and all the brothers spoiled me rotten when I was a child. The thing that pissed me off was how overprotective some of them became when I turned into a teenager. They treated me like I was made of glass and might break if they said or did the wrong thing around me.”

“They were just trying to be respectful.”

“I know. And I appreciate that their heart was in the right place.”

“Maybe if you had talked to them about how you felt, things could have been different for you?” he suggests sagely.

I acknowledge sheepishly, “To be honest, I still have a hard time talking about my problems.”

“If you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you,” he offers.

“Well, I’ve been seeing a grief therapist, so that helps.”

“Yeah, but therapists don’t always understand what it’s like when bad things happen. I got abducted, beat up by a crazy person, and was starved for a few months. I know how life can be unfair and how sometimes bad stuff happens to good people. It’s hard to put that shit behind you, you know?”

“That’s a really sweet offer, Evan. I hope you know that works both ways.”

“Here’s the part that no one really gets about trauma,” he states. “It’s really hard to put it behind you and keep it there when you get reminded every single time someone brings it up by asking how you’re doing.”

“That’s really insightful,” Evan.

He grins. “Even bad ass bikers aren’t good at hiding their emotions when it comes to shit that’s important to them. It’s harder on those of us who see ourselves as protectors. We feel guilt when things go sideways, and we couldn’t prevent it.”

Trying to understand, I say sympathetically, “You and the other club members can’t be everywhere all the time. The reality of the world is, we’re all actually responsible for protecting ourselves. You know that, right?”

Evan snorts a laugh. “You wear high heels. You couldn’t even run from danger in those shoes. I’d have to pick you up and carry you out of harm’s way.”

The barista hands me a tray of coffee and I double check, “You’re the caramel frappé, right?”

He nods eagerly, “Yeah, fancy coffee is my new obsession.”

“Does Mattie know about this new obsession of yours?”

“Heck no, and we’re not telling her. If she finds out, the next thing I know there will be some rule about only having one a week because all the sugar is bad for me.”

“That sounds like Mattie. She’s a stickler for the rules.”

“Yeah, but she’s also a great mom. I was lucky to get adopted by her and Rigs. They took me in when no one else wanted me.”

That makes me angry, so I tell him sternly, “You’re a great person, Evan. Any family would be lucky to have a son like you.”

“No, that’s not true,” he responds seriously as we walk back out the door sipping our drinks. “Most adoptive parents only want babies, or young kids. Very few people are looking to adopt a teen. My old foster parents weren’t good at dealing with me. They yelled at me. I yelled back. It was a train wreck, I promise you,”

“Are you sure you’re only fourteen? You seem a lot older.”

Evan practically preens at my compliment. “My dad says I’m smart for my age.”

“I really like you, Evan. You’re like me. We’ve both been through rough times and not only lived to tell the tale, but we grew stronger and more resilient because of it.”

“You’re right. We have that in common, along with a love for good coffee.”

“Maybe your club brothers will call you Barista when you get patched in,” I joke.

Evan almost spits out his mouthful. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to get stuck with a crappy club name for the rest of my life. I want something cool, like Fang or Eagle Eye.”

Grinning, I say, “Those sound like amazing club names but don’t you have to earn your handle?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment, “Maybe, but I can always drop hints.”

“Smart.”

Evan glances across the street at the other prospect who’s tapping his foot impatiently, “I gotta skedaddle.”

We say our goodbyes and I head back inside the office.