by Voss, Deja
“Esther, what happened to you?” he asks. “Where did you come from?”
“It’s club business,” I whisper. “It doesn’t involve you. Everything is going to be ok now.”
That’s all I have to say, and he gets it. He knows where my loyalty is, and where his needs to be. I don’t remember anything else but waking up in his bed, the only light in the tiny dorm room coming from a slat in the window blinds. I’m cleaned up, I’m wearing clothes I’ve never seen before, and there’s an envelope of cash next to my head on the pillow. It’s time for me to make my trip back up to the mountain. It’s time for me to be reborn into the life I was always meant to live.
Chapter 36
Brooks:
I park my bike in the driveway behind my black pickup truck. Everything seems normal here. I’m probably just psyching myself out, but better safe than sorry. If the story of Esther and I has taught me anything, it’s that lack of communication doesn’t work for us, and right this second I feel like I need to talk to her, or, at the very least, see her safe and sound asleep in our bed.
As I step up on the front porch, her damn cat starts weaving in and out of my ankles, purring furiously as he rubs himself all over my legs.
“What are you doing outside, old man?” I ask him. If she knew he was out here right now, she’d be flipping out. I scoop the orange ball of fur up in my arms and head to the front door. It’s unlocked, which is nothing unusual. Nobody messes with us out here, and if they do, that’s why we have guns.
“Jesus, Gingerbread, you had a fucking day, didn’t you, dude?” I ask, setting him down on the floor. He has the garbage knocked over, and the kitchen floor is covered in trash. Usually, the only time he throws tantrums like this is when he’s hungry. She must be sleeping really hard. Maybe she got into the liquor last night. That would explain the random sexts, which, although highly appreciated, were definitely unexpected. I slide my boots off in the doorway.
I open up a can of food for Gingerbread, gagging a little bit while I shovel it into his bowl. I sweep up the mess he’s made all over the floor. If this isn’t true love, tending to her nasty, geriatric, toothless cat, then I don’t know what is. I just know I don’t want her to wake up to all this.
I climb the steps, our bedroom door slightly cracked open. It smells like a Yankee Candle shop grand opening up here, and I assume she must’ve passed out hard, because I’m surprised our house isn’t burned down the way she goes at it with these candles.
“Esther,” I whisper in the doorway, not wanting to sneak up on her. “Babe, I’m home.”
Something definitely isn’t right. As I push the door the rest of the way open, I notice the comforter missing from the bed, and she’s nowhere to be seen.
“Esther!” I shout, throwing open the door to the master bathroom. I tear back the shower curtain. I barnstorm the entire house, opening doors, looking in closets, even going down in the basement and checking every corner of the dark concrete-walled room. She won’t set foot in here, something about it makes her completely freak out, but right now nothing is making sense.
I double-check the garage; her bike is parked right where it always is. I walk out into the driveway, making sure I didn’t just hallucinate seeing my truck parked there when I got home. If she went anywhere at all, it was by foot.
“Esther!” I call out, to nowhere in particular. I know she likes to walk sometimes in the morning. It doesn’t explain the rest of the scene I came home to, but a man can hope. I might as well try calling her just in case.
Her phone is ringing, but she’s not answering. Cold chills run down my spine. In this instance, my mind starts going to the worst places. She’s not safe; I can just feel it in my bones. I go back inside to put my boots on, calling her phone over and over again, hoping that maybe there’s a chance she just isn’t hearing it. Maybe it’s on silent in her pocket.
It is not.
I hear it ringing from the bedroom, the sound of wind chimes in a thunderstorm, and run back upstairs to look for it. It lays there on the floor, behind the door, tossed into the corner.
Her pistol is sitting on the nightstand, right where she always keeps it. I sit down on the bed with my head in my hands, my mind racing in a million directions, all of them taking me to the worst-case scenario. What if she’s hurt? What if she’s scared? How did I not try harder to keep her safe? How was I supposed to know she was in danger to begin with? I can’t help but blame myself for this. I think about the way she was trying to get me to stay yesterday, trying to get all of us to stay for breakfast, and we just brushed her off, business as usual. Maybe she was trying to tell me something.
I spot the piece of paper under the pistol on the nightstand. I go to reach for it, and something sharp pokes my hand from under her pillow.
It’s an empty syringe.
I’ve never known Esther to stick needles in her body, even when we were younger and wilder. I grab the piece of paper. Scrawled in pretty pink writing, loopy cursive with lots of swirls, are the ugliest words I’ve ever read.
“I might have lived as your old lady, but I will die a Misfit. I am nothing without my loyalty, and I let you strip that from me. See you in hell, E”
I feel like I’m being stabbed in the chest repeatedly. I just don’t get it.
I thought I was doing her a favor by getting her out of the prostitution game. I thought I was making her life better.
More importantly, I thought she loved me as much as I love her. That this wasn’t some club loyalty power move. Her father has her so brainwashed, she can’t even see beyond her function to the MC?
Now she’s missing. It might be too late. But she’s right about one thing, I’m not going to stop looking for her until I see her again, even if it is in hell. I’ll go wherever she is. Once I find her, I’m never letting her out of my sight again. Right this second, I need to find her, though.
I make sure my pistol is loaded as I run from the house. I text Gavin as I start up my bike, Clubhouse ASAP, Esther is gone, and I start down the road to the clubhouse. I have questions, and I have a feeling only one person has some answers for me.
The man who has always owned Esther. The man who has always owned all of us.
Chapter 37
Esther:
“Oh honey; I told you before, red is so not your color.” I hear a woman’s voice from across the dark room, and blink my eyes open, trying to make sense of where I am. The last time I woke up, I thought maybe I was in some sort of strange nightmare, or that I had sleepwalked to the basement of the house, but now that I can move my fingers and toes, now that I can actually sit up on the cold floor, I realize this isn’t a nightmare. This is reality, and it’s worse than anything I could’ve dreamed up in my twisted mind. “You really should be more careful, Esther. You’re bleeding all over your comforter.”
My face is throbbing. I reach up and touch my jaw, and when I pull my hand away, it’s covered in blood. My lips feel swollen.
“Morgan, where am I?” I ask her. The more I look, the more I realize I’m confined in a tiny space, steel bars all around me, like some sort of cage. Nothing looks familiar to me, except for the blonde standing in front of me, looking at me like she’s both disgusted and delighted.
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” she asks.
I think I already did at some point in my hazy coma, but maybe if I can get her to let me out of here, I can figure out where I am at the very least.
“Sure,” I say.
She slides a coffee canister through the bars. “Put the lid on it when you’re done. I’m not trying to touch your shit.”
Apparently that’s not going to work.
“Do you mind at least telling me what’s going on?” I ask her. “And also, I refuse to pee in a can in front of you.”
She just giggles.
“Morgan! Come on.”
“It feels pretty good, ya know? As much as I’ve spent the last ten years dreaming about hurting you, dreaming about
making you feel as terrible as you make me feel, I never thought I could actually go through with it. I even tried to talk your dad out of it. But now that I’m standing here, looking at you all pathetic and relying on me for everything, it feels kind of great. I feel kind of powerful. Like a goddess or something.”
It’s all coming back to me now. The pain in my arm, the comforter, my father’s face hovering over me when I thought I was safe in my bed. I’ve been abducted, but I have no idea why or where I am.
“Morgan,” I plead. “Can you please tell me where I am?”
“Sorry, that’s classified information,” she says with a smirk. “Holy shit, this is amazing. Having all these secrets from you. Usually I’m on the outside looking in, but my, have the tables turned.”
“Fair enough. My dad got you in on one of his little schemes and now you got a little taste of power. What’s your endgame though?” I ask. “What do you really think is going to happen here?”
“Esther, I don’t really care. As long as you’re gone, that’s all that matters. Why your dad is making me come down here and feed you and make sure you’re alive is beyond me though. I told him I could take care of this problem with one bullet and a shovel.” She’s standing taller than I’ve ever seen her stand before, her eyes wild and crazy. Maybe it’s just because I’m trapped in this cage and my body is still trying to push out whatever drugs are inside me, or maybe she really is high off her ass on power, but right now, this girl is scaring the shit out of me. At least I know she’s not going to try and kill me, at least not until my dad gives her the go-ahead.
She slides a brown paper bag through the bars of my cage.
“Open it,” she says. There’s a can of Diet Coke and a bag of beef jerky inside, along with a sandwich. My favorite things in the world. “See, I’m not a complete monster. I know what you like.”
“Suck my dick,” I say, throwing the bag across the cage.
“You’re lucky I don’t have the key to this fucking thing,” she shouts, making a fist at me.
“You know you’re on the wrong team, right? You think my dad has the power? You think latching on to him is going to get you whatever this title is that you’re looking for?” I yell, hoping to get through to her on some level. “Look what he did to me! Not just this, right now, either. I mean my life. He sold me as a sex slave when I was eighteen. Is that the life you want? Is that what you’re so jealous of?”
“You and Brooks did the same damn thing to me,” she laughs.
“And yet you came back. You could’ve had a comfortable cushy life. You could’ve had anything you asked for.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Esther,” she says. “I’ve never wanted that. I wanted to prove my loyalty to the club. I wanted to show everyone that this is where I belong, that I would sacrifice myself however I needed to. Like you.”
“Oh, knock it off, Morgan. You don’t want to be like me.”
“You’re right,” she says. “I don’t want to be like you. I want to replace you. Hell, I’m going to replace you.”
“Where’s Brooks?”
“You just don’t worry about him. I’m not after him anyway. He’s not the one in charge around here. He’s just a good fuck, isn’t he? I mean, between you and me. You already know I’ve fucked him before, though. I’m definitely kind of bummed I had to let him slide through my fingers. It’s a shame he’ll probably completely lose his shit when he sees the note you left him. What a waste of a perfectly good cock.”
“I didn’t leave him a note,” I snap.
“Sure ya did. You’re dead now, you know?”
“He’s not stupid, Morgan. He’s going to see right through it. Moses pulled the same shit with his dad. Don’t you think it’s a little ironic that all the people the man cares for end up killing themselves?”
“What?” she stammers.
“And when he does see right through it, and he will, do you really think the rest of the club is going to turn their back on him in favor of their fucked-up president, who, at this rate, could keel over and die any day anyway?”
I crawl across the floor and pick up the bag of beef jerky, tearing it open, gnawing on a piece of it while I just smile at her. I can almost see the wheels in her head turning, and I wait for smoke to come out of her ears as she paces back and forth, nervously wringing her hands. I feel pretty satisfied with my rant. The salt of the jerky doesn’t feel good on my bloodied lip, but I just chomp away purposefully, obnoxiously, chewing loudly enough that I know she can hear me.
“Everyone always tells me how dumb you are, Morgan, and I try to stand up for you, but you’re not making it easy right now. I think they might be right.”
“You’re a bitch,” she whispers.
“I know.” I smile “And you have some major work to do here, girl. I promise, if you make it right, I won’t tell anyone you were in on this scheme. Life will go back to normal. Go get the guys and tell them where I am, Morgan.”
“I’m going to have to think about it,” she says. “It’s not like you haven’t tricked me before.”
“I know. I’m sorry for that. Just know that I learned my manipulation skills from my father. You think I’m a sneaky bitch? Where do you think I got that from? That man will throw anyone under the bus the first chance he gets.”
Her phone begins to ring.
“I gotta take this,” she says. “Do you need anything before I go?”
“I need lots of things. Tell me where I am.”
“I can’t.”
“Tell me what my father is planning on doing with me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Go get the guys, then. I swear, you’ll be a hero, Morgan.”
“I’ll think about it.” She glares at me with this puzzled look on her face. She doesn’t realize how easy it is for me to see right through her. Every move she’s making is one of calculation. I can almost see the wheels in her head turning. What move is going to get her the most of whatever she wants. I don’t care what her motivation is. The real motivation I worry about is my father’s. Obviously he’s not going to kill me, or I’d already be dead.
Being kept alive means I probably have a fate much worse in my near future. I shiver at the thought of what kind of sick punishment this man has planned out for me. Morgan turns and walks off, and after the steel door swings shut, everything is silent and dark.
All I can do is sit here in this dark, damp basement and pray like I’ve never prayed before. Pray that Brooks knows what’s going on and knows exactly who did this to me. I wrap myself in the comforter that still smells like him, still feels like home, and hope that he knows I would never do anything to hurt him. I pray that my love for him is strong enough to guide him right here, guide him where he needs to be.
At the very least, I pray that Morgan actually has a soul, and that, perhaps, she will come through for me.
Chapter 38
Brooks:
“Baby, you need to come back to the house,” Trixie pleads into the phone. It’s been dark for hours, but I have my spotlight. Me and the entire club have been searching the woods all day for Esther. I don’t think she could’ve gotten far, especially drugged up and shoeless. The only hope I have is that she’s still alive, passed out somewhere, safe from the threat of wild animals roaming the forest.
Even if I do find her, if what she wrote in the note is true, then my life is about to change in a big way. I’ll probably have to leave the club, and definitely have to leave the mountain. I give no fucks about facing that, though. I just want her home and safe. I’m not worried about me right now.
“I can’t,” I tell Trixie, struggling with keeping my voice from cracking. “Not ’til I find some sign of her.”
“There’s somebody here at your house who wants to talk to you. I think you’re going to want to get back here as soon as you can, kid.”
“Is it her?” I ask. She’s the only person I want to talk to right now.
“No.”
Everyone we know is out in the woods right now, searching for her. There’s no reason why they wouldn’t be. Esther is important to each and every one of us in her own way. Gavin has Sloan and Olive in the side-by-side, the other guys took their four wheelers or hiked, and we even brought the dogs out with us. I have Trixie stationed at my house, and Heat is at Esther’s trailer in case she decides to return to either place.
Nobody has seen even a trace of her, even in the daylight. No footprints, no blood, not even a scrap of fabric from the giant comforter of our bed that I assume she’s been dragging around with her.
“I’m sorry, Trixie,” I tell her. “I’m not coming back until I get some answers.”
“Brooks,” a man’s voice says on the phone. I haven’t heard his voice in months, but I recognize it clear as day. “Come back, bud.”
“Goob, what are you doing up here?” I ask.
“You think I don’t care about my big sister as much as you do? I just got back from the airport. We’re at your house.” Goob had a rough life, rougher than most of us misfits, and when he left to get clean and figure out what he wanted to do with himself, we all thought it was a great thing. The fact that he’s back here right now, back amongst the life that almost destroyed him, shows once more how important Esther is. “She showed me the note.”
My stomach turns over just thinking about it, and if I had eaten or drank anything today, I’m sure I’d be losing it right now.
“You need to come back here and take a closer look,” he says. “She didn’t write this.”