Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Havoc

“ S omeone at the gate to see you and Nevaeh.”

I groan. “Not again. Neveah’s not here. She’s got a meeting with her agent and the studio execs interested in buying the rights to her books.”

“Ah, I didn’t realize that was today,” Midas states before frowning. “I thought you were going with her.”

“Probe’s with her. I was supposed to take her, but I had a couple of meetings. First one was with Bishop, who denies any knowledge of Khan’s plans, and the other was with Hannibal. He FaceTimed me to give me the lowdown on what’s happening up there. An anonymous sender mailed a ledger to Hannibal. The postmark is local but they don’t have much else to go on. Byte and G are going over it. It’s all in code, but we think if we can crack it, it will tell us what happened to all those girls.” I stand up and head toward the door.

“Who’s at the gate anyway? Please tell me it’s not Nevaeh’s father. I don’t trust myself not to lay him out cold without Nevaeh acting as a buffer.”

“No. Dude says he’s a friend. Wouldn’t give his name until I produced you or Nevaeh.”

“Right, because that’s not suspicious at all.”

Midas laughs and follows me out. We walk down to the front gate. Walking through the warehouse, I nod to Kruger, who is tinkering with his bike, and head out the other side.

I’m not sure who I was expecting, but it sure as shit wasn’t Ambros.

“Oh, thank fuck. I had this awful feeling that I had come to the wrong club. I remembered you had a beef with them at the last minute.” He shakes his head as I nod for Powers to open the gate.

“Come on in. The problem with the other club isn’t such a big issue anymore,” I tell him, not giving anything away. “Midas, this is Ambros, Ambros, Midas. Ambros is the UFC champion Nevaeh met on the plane to the UK. He was at the bookstore shootout with his sister.”

“Ah, shit, man. Sorry you got caught up in that. Is your sister okay?” Midas shakes his hand.

“She’s pissed someone tried to shoot her favorite author. I swear I don’t understand women at all.”

Midas snickers. “That makes two of us.”

“What brings you out here anyway?”

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Two things, actually, if you’ve got time.”

“Just finished up a meeting, and Nevaeh’s not here, so yeah, I’ve got time.” I indicate for him to walk with us. We pass through the warehouse and head up the slope to the saloon.

“This place is cool as fuck.”

“We get that a lot.”

“I bet.”

“Is what you have to say private, or can Midas stick around?”

“No, that’s fine. Look, I’m not sure how much you follow Nevaeh online, but there is a group of people that, since the shooting, have taken things to the extreme. I’ve noticed most of its contained to her personal page, but its spilled over onto her Celeste one and even mine. People are tagging me to see my reactions. Mostly I ignore the trolls, but some of the shit they’re saying is setting off every fucking instinct I have.”

I sigh. “I know. I have my VP, who happens to be my tech guy, on it. I don’t know if they’re a threat or just a bunch of chickenshit trolls, but Nevaeh hasn’t been alone since the shootout, much to her annoyance.”

“Thank fuck. I wasn’t sure if it was connected to the shootout. And honestly, I didn’t know how hip bikers were with social media, so I took a chance that you’d listen.”

“Why did you come here, really? I’m not doubting the reason you came. I just think there’s more to it.”

He’s quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “The day I met Nevaeh, she treated me like a regular person. She had no clue who I was, and when she did, it made no difference to her.”

“Sounds like my old lady.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time around people. You live and work in the public eye, and there is no avoiding it, but none of them cared about anything beyond what I could do for them. The only person I trust one hundred percent is my sister, and she’s dying.”

I stop for a second and look at him. His face is drawn and tired looking, the kind of tiredness that has nothing to do with a lack of sleep and everything to do with life wearing you down.

“The bullet?—”

“Really did only graze her arm. It’s not that. My sister has acute lymphoblastic leukemia. She went into remission, and we thought she’d beaten it, but then she got sick again last year. Not that you’d know to look at her. She’s refused any more treatment. She’s made peace with her death, but I’m not there yet. I don’t think I ever will be.”

He rubs a hand over his face. I look at Midas and nod for him to leave us for a moment. I start walking again, knowing Ambros will follow me.

“How long?” I ask him gently.

“Docs say around three months. I retired from fighting so I could spend as much time with her as possible. Fighting all seems so pointless now anyway.”

I get it. Why fight when you have nothing left to fight for?

“When she’s gone—” He coughs and starts again. “Dad died in a boating accident when we were kids. Mom got COVID and died during the height of the pandemic.”

I get it now. Like a lot of brothers here, he’ll have no one left. Being cast adrift can do strange things to a man. Grief doesn’t care how strong you are. It cripples gods and mortals alike.

“I came to see if you needed more prospects.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. But maybe hang around for a while and see if it’s really what you want. Once you’re in, you don’t get to back out because you’ve changed your mind.”

“I know. I just need something to keep going for.”

“Why here? Why us?”

“Nevaeh.”

I tense, but he just shakes his head at me.

“I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not attracted to her. I have eyes. I see the same thing you do—most of your men will see it, too. There is an innate lightness about her. At first, I thought it was naivete. A mix of innocence and inexperience. And maybe that does play a part, but?—”

“It’s the fire.”

“Yes. She doesn’t hide her pain very well. I don’t know what happened to her, I didn’t ask, but I know it was bad. If grief were a cut, she’d still be bleeding. But she’s still here. Still holding on and carrying on with a smile and kindness that I rarely see in people. She’s this tiny little dot, and I’m convinced she’s stronger than both of us.”

“And you’d be right. She’s also mine. There will never be a time when that’s open for discussion. If you touch her, I will cut off your hands.”

“I don’t poach. And even if I did, that woman is so in love with you I could walk in front of her naked, and she wouldn’t even notice.”

“Let’s not test that theory,” I reply dryly.

“Oh, no worries there. I’d rather not have my balls ripped off.”

I shake my head and chuckle. “Alright, Ambros, why don’t you come meet some of the brothers? You staying local?”

“My sister and her husband live only a few towns over. I’ve been crashing in their guesthouse. I have money for my own place, but I usually move around too much to settle on a home base. Until now.”

“If you want to crash, we have a couple of empty spaces we can put you in.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

I push the doors of the saloon open with Ambros on my heels.

“Jesus, it’s like stepping onto a movie set.”

I chuckle, stopping only when I see G heading my way.

“I was looking for you. Got something you might want to see.” He looks from me to Ambros. “I know you.” He pauses while his brain whirls before he clicks his fingers. “Ambros Deveraux. UFC champ.”

“That’s me.” He holds his hand for G to shake.

“This is G, my VP.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Ambros came to warn us about Nevaeh’s social media presence. He’s also thinking about prospecting.”

“Sweet. I think you’ll be a good fit around here.” He turns to me. “What I want to talk to you about is the trolls, actually. You got a sec?”

“Yeah. You mind if I bring Ambros in? He might have a different take on things as he’s used to dealing with fans.”

“Fine by me.”

“Ambros?”

“Not sure how much help I can give you, but yeah, whatever you need.”

We walk into my office. I sit behind my desk while Ambros and G take the two chairs in front of it. G takes his laptop from the bag slung over his shoulder. He sits it on his lap and taps away on it.

“So do you follow Nevaeh or Celeste Sky?” I ask Ambros as he takes in the office.

“Both now. In the beginning I just followed Celeste. I didn’t want to draw attention to her real identity. I mean she kept it hidden for a reason right? After the photo of us together went viral, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.”

“I think the buzz of you and her died down the second our illustrious leader decided to publicly claim her.” G rolls his eyes.

Ambros smirks. “I did notice a few topless shots of you on your bike coming up on my feed. I was starting to think going topless was a requirement of joining.”

“Your virtue is safe here, pretty boy. Besides, the pres has quite his own following now. Ten thousand the last time I looked.”

“Oh, I bet he does.” Ambros grins.

I narrow my eyes and look at him.

“Of course, I’ve been doing the whole topless thing a lot longer than you,” he jokes. I assume he means promotional pics where he’s just wearing shorts. “Before you know it, you’ll have ninety thousand followers too.”

G looks at Ambros. “You have ninety thousand followers? Who the fuck are you, Selena Gomez?”

Ambros laughs. “Not even close. She’s got around five hundred million.”

“Really? Well fuck a duck. I can’t imagine that many people interested in my life,” he swears before he sits the laptop on the edge of the desk. “Okay, out of the dozen or so people who were the most vocal, three live across the globe. One is sixteen, living in Australia, and attending high school. I have two in Europe—Germany and Sweden, to be precise. Both are married and live normal lives, from what I can gather from their profiles. These ones feel more like sheep who like to follow a leader. They don’t start the chaos but have no problem reveling in it.”

“You’ll always find those. Someone will say something, and you’ll get ten more jumps on the bandwagon, and before you know it, they’ve gone viral. Most of the time, it’s all for show so they can get their five minutes of fame.”

“Who wants to be famous for being an asshole?”

“Some people have made a living out of it.”

“What about the others?”

“I’ve managed to dismiss most of them as trolls instead of a threat. I have six left on the list. John Cyrus is a trucker who drives all over the country, delivering beer. He has a record for domestic violence. His ex-wife filed for divorce after his last stint in prison and walked away with nothing—her choice by the looks of things. The only thing she took was the dog. He still has the house they shared in Tampa but spends eighty percent of his time on the road.”

“Wait, you’re tracking these guys through their social media?” Ambros sounds surprised.

“I’m protecting my president’s old lady from potential threats,” G tells him.

“I’m not judging. I’m just conscious about what I post.”

“Honestly, it’s not that hard to hack into someone’s life. People say plenty without even realizing it.”

“You think this guy is a threat?”

“He says some nasty shit about Nevaeh in his posts and has the potential to be a problem, but only if the circumstances are right.”

“Like?”

“If she were handed to him on a silver platter. He won’t miss an opportunity, but he won’t go out of his way to seek her out either.”

“Alright, who stands out?”

“I’ve circled two. The other four all have criminal records. These two, I couldn’t find anything on. Their social media is locked down tight. In fact they have virtually no social media presence beyond what they posts about your girl. I searched, and there are five Newton Helms in a two-hundred-mile radius of here and eight Alan Ellwick’s. And none of them fit with the other four unless you count the dead guys.”

I pause. “What did you say?”

“There was an Alan Ellwick and a Newton Helms who would have fit but they’re”––

“Dead.” I finish for him, spinning the laptop around so I can check out the other names.

“Alfonso Ramiro, Michael Perkins, Daniel Waterman. Fuck me.”

“You know these guys?”

“No, but I recognise their names.”

G sits forward. “Talk to me Havoc.”

“Run those six names against Nevaeh Dillon,” I tell him.

G types the names in before he freezes. “Motherfucker.”

“What is it?” Ambros leans closer.

“Alan was the man suspected of abducting Nevaeh’s sister. He was killed by cops during his arrest. The other five all admitted at different times over the years to murdering Nevaeh’s sister.

“What the fuck?” Ambros curses.

G does some fast typing before he looks up at me. “John, Alfonso, Michael and Daniel are all still alive and kicking but Daniel and Alfonso are still in prison.”

“Where they won’t have access to social media. It’s not them posting.”

Ambros frowns. “What if it’s one guy, posting as all of them?”

“But why? This goes beyond trolling. Posting as people who could have murdered and raped her sister is messed up.” G questions.

“He found out the worst thing that happened to her, and he’s using those names to taunt her?” I snarl. “Who the fuck does that? Call Probe. Tell him to bring Nevaeh straight home once the meeting wraps up.”

G pulls out his cell phone and dials.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ambros asks quietly.

“No. I just need to find out who this motherfucker is. I don’t want Nevaeh reliving this shit because some whack job has a hard-on for her.”

“He’s not answering,” G tells me.

I pull out my cell phone and dial Nevaeh. It rings and rings, but she doesn’t pick up.

“Maybe she’s still in her meeting,” G says as he redials Probe.

I look at the time and shake my head. “Meeting should have finished ten minutes ago. Can you track either of their phones?”

“Hold on.” He types quickly before he looks up. “Probe isn’t transmitting. Must be dead because he wouldn’t switch it off. Nevaeh’s is on, though, and it says she’s still at the building where the meeting is being held.”

I stand up and head to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to wait for her to come out, and then I’m going to escort her home. At least if she’s with me, I know she’s safe.”

“Her phone says she is exactly where she’s supposed to be.”

“I call bullshit because if she were where she’s supposed to be, she’d be with me.” I turn the handle and walk out.

“That man has it bad.” I hear Ambros laugh.

“You have no idea,” G mutters. “Come on, you might as well witness crazy in action.”