“Do you trust me?” I ask, causing her to lift her head, bringing her lips against my ear.
“No,” she firmly replies.
“Morgan, let it all go. I promise you, I’m doing everything I can for your sister. For the next half hour, be in this moment with me. Feel the wind around you, feel the power of the bike under you, and just live free with me.”
She nods against me, her cheek brushing against my ear, causing my cock to press harder against my unforgiving zipper. As we pull off, the first jerk of the bike beneath her has her hands gripping my stomach tightly.
We travel down the road, and the scene to our right becomes the open beach filled with people who have not a care in the world. They lie out on their towels, not giving a second thought to the missing women. They aren’t facing the challenge of keeping hope inside that their sister is still alive. No, they lie on the soft sand, letting their minds drift freely into whatever fantasy should decide to take root and grow there.
To our left is the hustle and bustle of the city businesses. People are shuffling around to get their souvenirs, their Cuban espressos, or get to their jobs. Whatever their purpose is today, they don’t feel the pain and helplessness Morgan does right now.
I want some of this tranquility to seep into her. I know she is literally in knots, making herself sick over her sister, but she can’t do this to herself. She has to keep from going insane while I look for Madyson. I know it seems hypocritical of me because, if anything like this ever happened to Brooke, I would tear the entire world down in a rage looking for her. I can’t be worried about Morgan slipping further away in despair while I am trying to find Madyson, though. I also can’t afford to come save her from dangerous situations she unknowingly puts herself in.
Morgan may not trust me, but I am going to prove to her, one way or another, that she can. I am going to find Madyson if it is the last thing I do.
It takes her a bit before she finally relaxes behind me. Her hair whips around us both. Usually, this would bother me. I don’t let many women ride bitch, and even less get to ride with their hair down, but with Morgan, all that matters to me is giving her this moment to have a release. I want nothing more than to liberate her from all her problems, if only for a little while. I can give her that.
A momentary escape.
A reprieve from unrealistic expectations.
A time to find herself, be herself, and not have to worry about anyone else.
I hope she takes it. There are times in my world where everything crashes down. Good men die, bad men live. People change, mistakes happen, and nothing is what it once was. My bike, the open road, and nothing except me along with the air around me are sometimes the only solid things I can find.
Dropping my left hand, I give her thigh a squeeze. Her grip on my waist tightens and her thighs come in closer to mine as she reacts to my touch.
Does she feel it? Even for a moment, can she find the release?
Morgan
We ride for what seems like hours, but in reality, it is only an hour to an hour and a half before Ice pulls up to his house.
As he cuts off the bike, I reluctantly unwrap myself from holding so tightly to his waist and drop my hands to his hips.
Somewhere along the ride, for just a little while, I forgot everything. I let myself be consumed by the salt in the air, my hair blowing freely in the wind, the rumble under me, and the man in front of me. Out on the road, the tension between Ice and me shifted. I gave him a piece of myself during that ride, whether he will ever realize it or not.
I took a part of him, as well. No matter what the future holds, I will forever be indebted to him for giving me a little sliver of peace. He allowed me a chance to get lost in the sensations around me, not remain stuck in my head. After this ride, I can see why women want this. There is a bond shared.
He sees inside of me. I don’t know how he does it, but he does. Even when I didn’t know I needed to breathe, to escape for only a little bit, he did, and he gave me that. He has asked me multiple times if I trust him. Until today and this ride together, my answer has been no. Now, I don’t know if I would trust my darkest secrets with him—he is far from being my best friend—although I do trust him to keep his word and to take care of everyone around him.
When he slaps my thigh gently to signal for me to climb off, I pause because I cannot seem to find a graceful way to remove myself from the bike. My legs feel like jelly. It takes some maneuvering before I manage to awkwardly climb off the bike and steady myself in his driveway.
Ice merely stares at me without moving or saying a word. Feeling insecure, I run my fingers through my hair, only to find it is more than a mess. From the knots, the texture, and the overall feel, I can only imagine it sticking out in every which way. No wonder I usually see women on bikes wearing braids. Great, now I can add this to the list of my weird moments with Ice. At least I am wearing jeans and a pair of Madyson’s chucks. Otherwise, I would be really overdressed for our unexpected ride.
While I nervously roll back and forth on the balls of my feet as I stand before him, he blinks as if he is shaking off a daydream.
“Go on inside. Brooke can help you straighten out your hair and shit.”
“I need my car so I can go home,” I say quietly and nervously.
“You can stay here. Give me your keys and one of the boys will go get your car and deliver it to you. I doubt you want to be alone right now; stay here with Brooke. Plus, if you’re here, I can keep track of you easier, and I don’t have to stop searching for your sister to come get your ass from some ghetto.”
“Oh, shit!” I exclaim, covering my mouth with my hand. “I didn’t think you were really looking for her. I’m sorry.” I didn’t take it seriously that he would work to find her. Knowing he put a tracker on my phone shows he is more than serious, and although I am slightly ticked off that he was tracking me without my knowledge, I do understand it. Given my earlier encounter, I am even thankful for it.
“No apologies, not with me, ever. I take you as you are, and you get me as I am.” Something flashes in his eyes, making me wonder if his words mean more than the here and now.
“What are your expectations?” I ask nervously, wondering what he wants me to do while he is looking for my sister.
“No expectations. They lead to resentments, as no one can ever measure up. You start with one set of expectations or requirements, and once someone meets those, the bar always gets raised.”
“Let me rephrase then: what do you want me to do?”
“Trust me,” he states simply, as if it is as easy as changing your panties in the morning. My face must have given away my skepticism because he asks, “You can’t trust me?”
“I do trust you to try to find Madyson.”
“Trust me to take care of you, too.” He meets my gaze and extends his hand, making me feel like this is building up to something more than I am prepared for. With my small hand inside his large calloused one, he squeezes gently, and there is a monumental shift in the dynamic between us.
“Okay,” I whisper back. “What do you need me to do?”
“Stay here until I get back. Hang out with Brooke. Do girlie shit. If you make some more of those cookies, I’ll be sure to choke on them again.” He winks.
I nod my head in agreement as he lets go of my hand. Reaching up, he tucks a piece of my tangled hair behind me ear. “Hang on, Morgan. I’ll find her and the two of you will get through this.”
He then starts the bike back up while I turn to walk inside. For the first time in days, I feel like everything will be all right. He will find my sister and bring her home. I feel it in my bones.
Chapter
13
Morgan
When I go into the house, I find Brooke sitting at the table, working on her homework. Feeling the need to do something, anything, I immediately head into the kitchen to bake, clean, or whatever else I can do to avoid sitting around and dwelling on my missing sister. Brooke takes
notice of my presence as well as my need to fidget and gets up to join me.
“You know my dad will find her, right?”
“Sure,” I say. I might have convinced myself earlier that Ice would find Madyson, but the doubts are starting to creep in. What if my confidence in Brooke’s dad is wishful thinking?
“Seriously, Morgan. Things aren’t always what they seem. My dad is one of the good guys, believe it or not.”
“Your father’s moral stature is not my business, Brooke. I don’t know him well enough to make any assumptions as to whether he is good. The few interactions I’ve had with him haven’t been so great, but again, I’m not his friend, nor am I his lover, so why should he afford me such things as the common decency of polite conversation?”
“He really is a different man than you think. I know he hasn’t always been nice, but you aren’t ‘in there’ with him yet.”
“I don’t think I want to be ‘in there’ with him, sweetie. No offense, but your dad is an ass,” I state, raising my eyebrows at her.
“He’s out right now looking for your sister, a girl that, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t even make his radar. He’s put his entire club on the job to find Madyson and bring her home to you. Ever heard the saying, actions speak louder than words?” Brooke defends her father as fiercely as a mother lion would defend her cub. It is surprising and admirable.
“You are a wise one, Brooke Grady.” I genuinely smile at her.
“Wise enough to know my dad put you on his bitch seat. That means something has changed.”
“Huh?” I question, confused as she laughs at my reaction. “What’s a bitch seat? And how does that change anything?”
“Rather than you bang around in the kitchen, let’s go get you a hair tie, hair brush, and some serious detangling spray. Once we do something about your hair, I’ll clue you in on biker life.”
Taking me by the hand, she drags me to her bathroom, which frankly, anyone who isn’t blind would be able to tell is Brooke’s bathroom. The entire room is decorated in fuchsia pink, purple, and black. It is bright enough for me to wish I was blind. It makes me wonder if Ice is able to step in here without breaking out into some sort of hives.
Brooke sits me down on a chair in front of her vanity, and when I finally look up into the mirror, I gasp and cringe in horror. My hair is tangled and trying to stick up in every direction. It almost looks as if a couple of birds attacked my head and tried to make a nest out of it. I wonder if it would be easier to cut it all off instead of trying to detangle it.
I almost tell Brooke to forget it, that we will drive to the closest hair stylist to shave my head bald, but I look up and see her determined face. She has a bottle of hair detangling spray in one hand and a wide tooth comb in the other. Fifteen minutes later, I am absolutely positive that this young girl has had entirely too much practice fixing women’s motorcycle hair gone wrong.
A small part of me starts to wonder if Brooke has had to do this for some of the women Ice has shared his bed with, though I cut the thought off quickly. Part of me knows, without a doubt, that Ice would not bring women home to meet his daughter. It is obvious the man goes out of his way to protect her, and I would assume it includes limiting that aspect of his life to her, as well.
Furthermore, why should I care about Brooke detangling the hair of any woman Ice might bring home? He is not my man, and he never will be. As such, it is none of my business if he does bring a woman home.
Grabbing my hand, the sweet and adorable daughter of the hard-ass biker who seems to haunt me, drags me out of the bathroom and back towards the front of the house. “Now that I can look at you and not want to laugh, let’s go to the living room and have some girl talk.”
We sit down beside each other on the couch, and a sadness creeps over Brooke almost instantly. “I miss her like crazy, you know. I get this has to be crazy hard for you because it’s crazy hard for me, too.”
I have been so wrapped up in my own hurt and fear that I have completely forgotten how my sister going missing might affect her best friend. “Yes, sweetie, it is. We have to keep holding on to hope that she will come home soon.”
“I don’t want to scare you, but I don’t believe she ran away. Madyson may be a little crazy, but underneath it all, she has goals and aspirations. She wants to do so much in the future. She wouldn’t risk not graduating.”
My heart hurts a little more at Brooke now defending my sister the way she has her father. It is obvious this girl knows more about Madyson than I might ever know, if Ice is unable to find her. That realization burns. It is a stark reminder that I should have done more for my little sisters growing up. I should have tried harder to get to know then instead of pasting on a fake smile and doing whatever I had to do to appease the adults.
“Mady and I aren’t all that close, Brooke. With her living with me, this is the most she’s ever let me in,” I finally reply sadly.
“She wants to be a marine biologist. She even has two partial scholarships for college lined up. They aren’t much, but it’s something. We only have one class together this semester, but we had two last. She studies hard. She doesn’t even get into trouble at school.”
“How do you have classes with her if you’re a junior?”
“I’m kind of a nerd, I guess. I’m one of the smart kids. My dad is an ass, and if I don’t bring home straight A’s, he’ll ground me. Dad’s version of grounding is torture. He takes everything away, and I mean everything. I’m not allowed to leave my room, a room he takes down to the bare essentials. He literally leaves me with four empty walls, a bed, and a dresser with my clothes set out to the ugliest outfits I own. No TV, no books that aren’t school related, no fashion shows, nothing. I get nothing.
“Hell, once he took all my makeup away. He said it was because I was spending too much time ‘primping’ and not enough time studying. Truth is, I think he can’t handle me wearing makeup and growing up. Mady and I have been trying to be more social; that’s why we went to the parties. Kids at school are afraid of the Regulators, and Mady doesn’t want to bring anyone around your parents.”
Shifting in my spot, I turn to look her in the eyes. “You know fitting in isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of life, right? High school passes and life begins. What any of those people in school think of you or my sister doesn’t matter.”
Brooke’s eyebrows furrow a little and she grouses, “We know that. Still, it would be fun to be popular.”
“I suppose it would, but at what cost? Mady was drugged at the last party. What if you had been, too? Then you wouldn’t have been able to save either one of you,” I chide her gently.
“I guess I didn’t think of that.”
“Look, my parents are superficial. There are a lot of things they’ve done that I don’t agree with. But the thing is, my upbringing made me who I am today, and I’m okay with me. I may not be one of the ‘cool’ people, but I have a great job, solid income, and I have a good foundation for my future. The people around me love me for me, faults and all. Surround yourself with people who accept the nerdy you, like Mady. Find people who aren’t scared off by your biker dad, if that’s even possible. Most importantly, be you and love you just as you are.”
“Madyson always said that about you,” Brooke whispers.
“What did she say?” I need some reassurance that I have been a positive influence on my sister somehow, because I feel like I have failed her in every other aspect.
“Even though you did a lot of things just to keep your parents quiet, you always find happiness in whatever situation you’re in. She looks up to you.”
My eyes sting with tears threatening to build. “I don’t know what to say.” Really, I don’t. I am not happy. Have I put on the façade for so long no one can see through to the real me? I can’t say I am unhappy, though. What I am is lonely.
We talk for a little while longer. Brooke has some great memories with her grandmother. It hurts my heart to know she ha
s no memories of her own mother. My heart aches to have more time with her and to do things like this with my sisters.
Madyson, when you get back, we are going to have quality time together. I am going to know all about your dreams and be there to help you make them come true.
Ice
“Are you sure it’s her?” I ask Screech as I stare at the screen in front of me. For two very long days we have had a man watching the four cameras.
“Her tattoo—”
“Tattoo, what tattoo? She’s a damn kid,” I bark out.
“Apparently, she had a friend tattoo a Japanese cherry blossom on her side with her initials weaved into it. Her file states that it was done a little over a year ago.”
“Do we have a location yet?” Hammer asks the most important question.
I stare at the vision before me of Madyson Leigh Powell, naked and slumped down in a cage. She is moving; at least I know she is alive. Has she mentally checked out? How drugged is she? Have they violated her yet?
My stomach turns at the thought that this case is hitting a little too close to home. Staring at my baby girl’s best friend exposed, defenseless, and probably scared out of her mind makes me think an ugly truth that I do not want to face. That could easily have been Brooke, instead.
From what we have gathered, it takes a while before they start using the girls for sex. They spend the first parts of their captivity being drugged to the point of addiction. Once they have them hooked, the bastards whore them out. Consensual my ass. Sick fucks have a system going. How Madyson caught their radar, however, we are still unsure. It seems like it was a matter of wrong place, wrong time.
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