by Hope Stone
Then came the barbecue. That was the part that hurt the most. Thinking about how she had charmed all my brothers while the whole time searching for clues that weren’t there.
I paused at that. I was right. There hadn’t been any clues. Not even a hint of anything off about Outlaw Souls. If I knew one thing, it was that Claire wasn’t stupid. She had to have seen that Outlaw Souls wasn’t the type of club to dabble in criminal activity.
I thought back to this morning, as unpleasant as it was. I replayed the conversation. She had said something about Outlaw Souls. She had said they were the main suspects. She had said she knew they didn’t do anything.
But she could have been lying. She might have wanted to cover her ass and say whatever she had to in order to salvage a connection to me so she could continue her sleuthing. Then later, she had said she would keep investigating, but she hadn’t said she would keep investigating Outlaw Souls.
I growled in frustration. I couldn’t trust anything she said, but even now, I wanted to think that she no longer suspected us. I tried to remember the notes. She wouldn’t have lied in those notes. They had been detailed and precise and without bias, at least I could say that for Claire. She had written down a lot of no’s in regard to Outlaw Souls: no drug paraphernalia, no mention of drugs, no signs of addiction.
So maybe she had cleared Outlaw Souls, but that didn’t change the fact that she had been using me. I couldn’t think in detail about the night before. Each memory of how I had held her and slowly undressed her was like a knife to the gut. She had responded to my touch, had given back to me, but it had all been in the relentless pursuit of her investigation. Even if she no longer suspected the Outlaw Souls, she had only agreed to be with me because of her job. That tainted her actions.
Another line she had said this morning came back to me in startling clarity: “I wasn’t faking my feelings.” She had said that. She had also said that last night was real for her, but I had responded with anger and hatred.
“Lies,” I muttered. “She was lying.”
But I was no longer as certain. The self-righteous fury of the morning was beginning to trickle away. I was just sad now. I felt empty. I had lost something, and I was beginning to fear that I had even had anything to begin with. A small stupid part of myself hoped that maybe she had meant it. Maybe she hadn’t been faking.
I turned and got back on my bike. I couldn’t think like that. Outlaw Souls was the priority right now. I had to push my sadness to the side and go to my brothers. There was no going back and correcting my mistakes. I had to keep moving forward. And if that meant freezing my heart forever, then so be it.
I reminded myself that I had recovered from betrayal before, I could do it again.
Only I had a sneaking suspicion that I was the one telling lies now.
Claire
I wished more than anything that I was the type of girl who could heal by eating her weight in chocolate and sobbing over a romantic comedy. Or a documentary about serial killers. I wasn’t picky about what I watched while consuming chocolate, as long as it worked to distract me.
But that wasn’t me.
Wallowing had never been my style. I had to take action. I could only heal if I stayed in motion. Maybe it wasn’t healing. Maybe it was just forgetting. I didn’t care. I just needed to move.
So I finally got up off the floor. I yanked on jeans and a T-shirt. I picked up my notebook from where Pin had slammed it on the table, and I held it in my hands. There were still two missing teenagers. There was still a drug ring. I still had to solve this investigation. It was all I had left.
Was it a fair trade? Was losing Pin worth this case?
“No,” I whispered.
I shook my head and sat down on my couch. I couldn’t think like that. I couldn’t think about Pin or myself at all. The only way I could look at this investigation was if I cut myself completely out of it. I had to eradicate all my personal feelings and all my pain from the case.
Every moment I spent with Pin that wasn’t somehow connected to this investigation, I had to push aside. Which meant most of the time with Pin had to be forgotten. When it came down to it, we really hadn’t spent that much time thinking about Outlaw Souls. We had spent most of our time together sharing stories about ourselves, not to mention having passionate sex.
That had to be forgotten too. Pin could call me a whore all he wanted, but I knew that I had not been thinking about my job or the investigation at all when we had been intimate.
I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. No more thoughts about me. I had to erase myself. I wondered if maybe I should have taken up meditation years ago to prepare for this moment. It was too late now. All I had was willpower, and that was going to have to be enough.
I opened my eyes and flipped open the notebook.
“The facts,” I muttered to myself. “Just the facts.”
Zoe had been dating a biker. Hector had been into bikes. They both ran away three months ago.
Outlaw Souls was a biker club, but they didn’t deal drugs. At least most of them didn’t, I was sure of that. I could not rule out the possibility that they had a few rogue members. As a whole though, they weren’t that kind of club. Pin had told me that once, early on. But that statement implied that some biker clubs were that kind of club.
I gasped as I thought back to this morning. He had said something – what was it? I didn’t want to think about this morning. I didn’t want to be reduced to a sobbing mess again. But he had said something, right after he discovered the notebook.
It came back to me in a flash: “We didn’t take anyone, we would never. We’re not –”
And then he had said a name. He had been speaking so fast, and I had been so upset because he wasn’t listening to me. And then right after he had accused me of being bad at my job, but I couldn’t think of that.
It had been a name, I was certain. But it hadn’t sounded familiar to my ears.
Las Balas.
It had been Spanish, I realized. I had lived in Southern California long enough to recognize that at least, but I had no idea what it meant. I leapt off the couch and ran to grab my computer from my desk. I opened it and typed the words into my search engine to find a translation.
The bullets.
That did sound familiar. Where had I heard that before? Had Pin mentioned it? I didn’t think he had ever said something about bullets or guns. I would have noticed if he had because I was listening for that kind of language.
But I had heard it. I ran through my memories, trying to fast forward the more painful ones, until I paused at the barbecue. I had been in the bathroom, frustrated because nothing was making sense. I ran into Pin (fast forward through that), and then we had walked back out and seen Moves.
Who was leaving. Because there were some bullets that needed to be taken care of. Or something along those lines.
Had he said anything else? He had been tense, I remember, the lines of his face hardened. Pin had lowered his voice as well, but hadn’t felt the need to discuss it at length. Instead, Pin had sat down with me and told me… other things that I didn’t want to think about.
Bullets. Las Balas. The Outlaw Souls were not like Las Balas.
Another biker club. I could have slapped myself. Of course, I had considered that possibility, but all the parents kept chirping up with Outlaw Souls. But that could have been because that was the only biker club they had even heard of.
I turned back to my computer and threw myself into more research. It wasn’t easy to find anything. It wasn’t like biker clubs had websites or got mentioned in the news all the time, but the internet was a vast place and the mentions were there.
Las Balas was another club in La Playa. And they were trouble. All the things that had been missing when I was scouring the internet for details on Outlaw Souls were present. Las Balas were mentioned in a few police reports for assault and battery. Some neighborhood watch blogs mentioned them hanging around, possibly dealing drugs.
I stood up and began pacing around the room. Las Balas. I had to find them. I had to finish this case as soon as I could. I wasn’t naive enough to think that if I took down Las Balas then Pin would take me back. What I had done was unforgivable. He had made that perfectly clear.
I wasn’t going to get Pin back, but I could solve this case. I could at least redeem the Outlaw Souls’ reputation. And get Zoe and Hector back home.
I was buzzing with adrenaline. I had to keep moving. My mind whirred through ways to get in touch with Las Balas. At last, I decided to not overcomplicate it. One of the comments on a Reddit thread mentioned that Las Balas liked to hang out at a bar called Fisherman’s Wharf (which was strange because it was nowhere near the beach). I mapped out a route and started to plan.
I didn’t have to do anything stupid, but I needed to do something. If I just popped over to that bar, grabbed a drink and made some observations, I would be much farther along than I had been this morning.
It was a public place, after all. I was a smart girl, I could handle this. Besides, there was nothing to be gained by waiting. Tomorrow, the situation would be exactly the same.
I raced around my apartment, grabbing supplies and clothes while I dialed Veronica’s number.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I’m doing some recon tonight,” I said. “A place called the Fisherman’s Wharf, just to see if I can get eyes on bikers for the missing teens case.”
“The ones you were with last night?” Veronica asked.
We always kept each other appraised of the general details in our cases. It was good to have someone in the know. “No, it’s a different club. Las Balas.”
I heard clacking on the other end. Veronica was on her computer.
“Ok, I see it on the map,” Veronica said. “Sketchy area.”
“I know, I’m a big girl,” I said.
“Don’t need to remind me,” Veronica said. “Just be careful and stay in contact. If you don’t text for a while, you know I’ll call out the hounds.”
“Of course,” I said.
After we hung up, I prepared for my role for the night. I pulled on an itty-bitty black leather mini-skirt and a low-cut camisole blouse. Then I decided on a long black blazer. It was a little formal, but it had deep pockets so my mace could be easily accessed. Besides, I wasn’t going for the total bimbo look. I couldn’t really pull that off, so I wanted to just look like an inebriated secretary who was looking for some thrills to spice up her drab life.
It’s hard to fake drug addiction, so I wasn’t even going to try. And I definitely wasn’t going to stroll into the bar and ask for some heroin because that was about the same as screaming that you were an undercover cop.
I spent more time than usual on my makeup. I didn’t usually wear a lot, but makeup could serve as good armor. A good amount of shimmery eyeshadow and dark eyeliner can go a long way towards masking expressions. Not to mention that red lipstick is a killer distraction. I didn’t do anything attention-grabbing, just enough to hide behind.
I finished the look with some high-heeled boots. Not great for running, but I had no intention of needing to run tonight. I threw my notebook, an extra bottle of pepper spray, and a taser into my purse. I grabbed my phone and fiddled with it. I had the strangest urge to text Pin.
I would never expect a response, but I wanted to tell him what I was doing. I wanted him to know that I was at least trying to make things right. That now knew it was Las Balas. I had at least been a good enough PI to figure that out.
I also wanted him to know where I was. It was stupid, but I felt like I would be safer if Pin was aware of my movements. Like he cared.
But he didn’t. Yesterday, he would have wanted to know. Hell, yesterday, he might have gone with me. Today, I could walk straight into hell, and he would probably cheer.
I shoved my phone into my bag. Veronica knew where I was going, and she would have my back. I didn’t need Pin.
An hour later, I pulled into the lot of Fisherman’s Wharf. I had stopped on the way to eat a quick meal from McDonald’s in my car. I wasn’t going to go into this on an empty stomach.
My heart started racing when I saw a row of bikes parked in the lot. This was it. I knew in my gut that I was going to find something in there. It might not be Zoe or Hector, but there was going to be some sign that I was on the right track.
I touched up my lipstick in my mirror before pulling my smaller handbag (wallet, phone, and taser inside) over my head. I touched my pocket again for my mace. I wasn’t going to use it. I was going to walk in, order a drink, look around, maybe flirt with a guy, then hightail it out of there.
I knew Fisherman’s Wharf was a whole other level of sketch as soon as I walked through the door. The bartender was a dead giveaway. At Blue Dog Saloon, the barkeep had been grimy, perhaps a bit grouchy, but he had been upfront and focused on his business. The bartender at Fisherman’s Wharf took one look at me and gave me a lecherous smirk.
If I hadn’t already seen a group of leather-clad men huddled in the corner booth, I would have turned around and walked right out. But I was too close to give up. I walked up to the bar and hopped on a stool. I didn’t keep my head down or try to be subtle. The bar was slow, so there was no use trying to hide.
“Haven’t seen you before, sweetheart,” the bartender said.
His voice was slick and oily, and he stared at my cleavage without shame. I gave him a small shrug and pouted my lips. As if I had a really rough day, and maybe I was slightly ashamed that I had a taste for bad guys.
“Just thought I’d try someplace new,” I said. “Is that a problem?”
He snorted. “No problem at all. What can I get you?”
“Gin and tonic, please,” I said. I was going to take one sip, that was all. Then I would pretend to get a text from an ex.
While the creep of a bartender went to make my drink, I glanced around the room. A few of the bikers had clocked me, but they didn’t seem that interested.
No one resembles Zoe. No Hector, either.
But there was one young woman. I recognized her at once. Grace Vasquez. The older girl who had played volleyball with Zoe before getting involved with a biker and running away a year before. She was eighteen by now, so not really my problem, but Zoe’s parents had suspected she had introduced her daughter to the bikers.
It was definitely her. She had bleached the ends of her dark hair, and her skin looked a lot more sallow than it had in her yearbook photo, but it was Grace alright. And she had been using. I would bet the contents of my wallet on it. I didn’t think she was high just that moment, but her addiction was evident in the dark circles beneath her eyes that no amount of concealer could hide and the puffiness of her cheeks. I knew if she were to roll up her sleeves, I would probably see puncture marks on her arms.
I looked back down at the table. I had what I had come for. Grace was here, which meant that Zoe was tied up with Las Balas. Hector too most likely. I would need backup to start trailing them, but now I knew where I could start.
The bartender placed the gin and tonic down, and I paid as fast as I could. I was pulling out my phone, all ready to do a small fake reaction to a booty call, when my neck prickled. There was someone behind me.
I told myself to remain calm and turned. It was a tall guy with messy brown hair. He gave me a smile that made my blood curdle. He wasn’t bad-looking, quite attractive even. But I could tell whatever he wanted with me wasn’t anything good.
“Hey Claire,” he said.
I froze. I flicked my eyes around the room and saw that now all the bikers were regarding me from their side of the room. The three other customers had their heads down while the bartender was still smirking on the o
ther side of the bar.
He knew my name. It was time to run.
I scooted off the chair and turned for the door, but the man grabbed my arm. In a matter of seconds, he had ripped my purse over my head. I started breathing heavy. This was bad, really bad. No one in this bar was going to help me, and he had just acquired my phone, my wallet, and my taser. All I had was my pepper spray in my pocket, but if I whipped that out now, one of the other bikers was going to yank it off me before I could get to the door.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. How the hell did they know who I was?
“Oh no, you’re not leaving so soon,” the man said. “We’ve been wondering when you would show up here.”
I looked up and froze. He had a scar on his cheek. Liz had said Zoe’s older boyfriend had a scar. Fuck, this was bad. This was really bad.
He reached up and placed a finger in the middle of my forehead, where my brow was creased. I flinched away, but he only smiled.
“Oh Claire, we’ve heard all about you,” he said. “Sniffing around asking questions about Zoe and Hector.”
“How do you know my name?” I snapped.
My voice came out somewhat steady, much to my relief. I was desperate to know how they knew me. It was also dawning on me that the only way I was getting out of this was by keeping them calm and waiting for an opportunity.
“You really thought you could run around asking Hector’s old friends about him and start fucking an Outlaw Soul, and we wouldn’t notice?” he asked. “How dumb do you think we are?”
My heart sank. He knew a lot. Hector must have still been in contact with one of his stupid friends who was probably about to run away to deal drugs as well.
“By the way,” the man said, his hand still gripping my arm as he pulled me across the room. “I was impressed by how quickly you hopped in bed with Pin, he’s notoriously hard to get.”