Meyah (The Club Girl Diaries Book 9)

by Addison Jane

  I looked down at the envelope. It was thin, there wasn’t much to it. It wasn’t addressed to anyone, so I knew immediately it hadn’t been mailed to him from a DNA testing lab. I pulled nervously at the sealed flap, tugging it open inch by inch.

  “Where did you have this done?” I asked as I tore the last bit of paper.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does if you gave my DNA to some dodgy fucking laboratory that’s going to use it to make an army of clones one day,” I rattled nervously as I slipped the letter from its packaging and let the envelope float to the floor.

  “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, throwing his head back. “You are your fucking mother. Have to question everything and talk shit about nothing.”

  Before I could even unfold the letter and read what it said, I felt this warm wave wash over me. It initially made me smile, to think he and my mom had this three-day fling where she would have seen a different side of this man. The man who made her smile so wide in the photo and laugh and act so free. That he had that kind of effect on her.

  Then I thought about how different that woman was from the woman she had become. I wondered if he would even recognize her now? I wondered what happened for her to lose that carefree nature, or whether he was the one that brought that out in her. The warmth that had filled me so intensely was quickly replaced by a chill.

  I looked down at the words on the letter and felt the air leave my lungs in a sharp whoosh, my shoulder slumping as I fell back against the dorm room door.

  Huntsman was my dad.

  He was the missing part of my DNA.

  He didn’t even ask the question.

  He was right, and I think a part of me already knew too, but just needed someone to back it up, so I wouldn’t second guess myself and think maybe I was just desperate to have a father figure in my life and that I’d settle for someone like him.

  Nope. That’s not what this was.

  He was really my dad.

  “I’m gonna need you to come to Vegas and meet the club and family,” he all but ordered, like I was one of his men. He started to walk toward the door. “I’ll pick you up in a car, and we can head out in a couple hours with the rest of the boys.”

  My eyebrows shot straight up, my eyes widening dramatically. “Um…” I started, trying to find my words after he’d basically just blown off the fact that it was Monday, and I had classes and responsibilities here. “Slow down there. You can’t just start throwing around plans and orders and expect me to drop everything. I have school. I have a job.”

  “Meyah,” he started, but I shook my head and held up my hand.

  “No. You don’t get to walk in here and start telling me what to do,” I argued, standing up straight and pushing my shoulders back. I walked forward until I was standing directly in front of him, looking up at this scary looking asshole that was my father. I slapped the letter against his chest. I’d finally found my feet, finally managed to be able to stand on my own and refused to let anyone make my decisions for me. “I am not one of your club members. I take opinions, not orders. Suggest your fucking life away, but don’t expect me to stand here and snap a salute like one of your boys.”

  I wasn’t going to let him walk in here and throw away all the shit I’d gone through to get to this point.

  “I have to sit down and explain this shit to my men,” he argued, his eyes lighting up like I’d struck a match and doused it in gasoline. “They will expect to meet you. Especially your two elder brothers who’ve just discovered they possibly have a fucking little sister.”

  I tried not to let the warm fuzzy feelings that filled me stop me from standing my ground. I steeled my spine and fought the urge to smile, thinking about the fact that I had another family out there. Older brothers that I hoped were less douchebag-ish than our father, but I wasn’t holding out much hope.

  “Fine,” I conceded, holding up my finger for him to listen before he thought he’d won this round. “This is what’s gonna happen. I’m going to continue going to class. Then on Thursday afternoon after my morning class, my friend Dakota and I will travel up… with or without your club… we will stay and drive back here Monday.”

  He clenched his jaw. I could tell he wasn’t used to this.

  Apart from his wife, he’d probably never had another woman talk to him like I was. The instant I thought about her, my body shuddered and my nose crinkled. The thought of meeting her wasn’t high on my list of things I wanted to do, given she was partly responsible for why I hadn’t had the chance to know my father for eighteen years. But this was all part of being an adult and owning my decisions.

  Huntsman stood a little taller and folded his arms across his chest while his frown grew deeper, and the tick in his jaw became more prominent. “I don’t let my own sons get away with talking back to me when I’ve told them to fucking do something. What makes you think I’ll let you?” he challenged.

  I folded my arms, matching his stance. “Welcome to the fun world known as having daughters.”

  The tenseness in his body released instantly, and I saw the moment he realized just what that meant. He was thrown. His perfect confidence slipping for just a second.

  But I was happy it did because in that moment he wasn’t this MC President, hard, stern and almost emotionless.

  He was human.

  “Fucking hell.”

  “That was a lucky fucking shot,” Romeo grumbled as I sunk ball number four while he continued to miss every single fucking shot.

  I laughed, moving around the table, my eyes scanning for another winning play. “You suck so hard at this.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Good comeback, little brother.”

  “Hey, Romeo,” Wrench called as he reached the bottom of the staircase, holding a single paper in his hand. Romeo stood up straight like a metal pole had been shoved right up his ass.

  Optimus got off his barstool and joined Wrench as he walked over to us, curiosity on his face. The closer Wrench got, the easier it was for me to tell that the info he’d found wasn’t useful. I looked over to see my little brother's jaw clenched, the muscles twitching in agitation telling me that he knew too.

  “What you got?” I asked when I realized Romeo wasn’t going to make an attempt to ask. He probably didn’t want to know, he was probably regretting even asking the club to help him.

  Wrench took a deep breath. “Not a lot, to be completely honest, but I do have something I’m looking into.” He lifted up the piece of paper in his hand, and at the same time, took a deep breath. That alone told me everything I needed to know. We weren’t going to like the answer. He held it out, and Romeo slowly reached out to take it from his hand.

  I moved closer to my brother, narrowing my eyes on what appeared to be a screenshot of a website. There were only a few words—details I think, describing something.

  Then I realized, it wasn’t describing something.

  It was describing someone.

  And the small picture in the left-hand corner was of a young girl. She had red hair, freckles across her nose and cheeks making her look really young, and she appeared like she was scared to death.

  “How old is this?” Romeo asked through gritted teeth. His hand was shaking, the sheet of paper rustling.

  “I ain’t gonna lie. We’re talking old. I pulled it from an FBI database. After you said the sheriff had dabbled in selling young girls, I took a chance and wondered what he would do if he were desperate to hide someone,” Wrench explained before reaching over and pointing to a date that was stamped across the bottom of the page. “The FBI is constantly taking down these pages. A lot of them are established quickly. A time and date are usually set up for it to go live, and it’s only up for an hour before it’s taken down and a new one’s created the next day. They do what they can, which usually means just taking screen snaps of each of the girls and filing them away to match with missing persons that flood in.”

  Romeo started to scrunch the paper in his hand
so I grabbed it, pulling it away before he could ruin it. He didn’t fight me or argue. Just let me have it.

  “That date was only a couple days after I put her on a bus to Seattle,” Romeo mentioned, slamming his pool cue down on the pool table and shaking his head. “He fucking sold her. His own flesh and blood. His own child.”

  “Where’s her mom?” Op asked, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms. “She didn’t have a say in any of this?”

  Romeo grunted. “She died when Liza was around thirteen or fourteen. A year or two before I showed up.”

  “Died of what?” I enquired with a raised brow, something about it not feeling right.

  Romeo looked up and met my eyes. “I was told natural causes, but I know what you’re thinking and trust me I wondered the same thing.”

  “He offed her,” Wrench interrupted, saying what we all were thinking. Nobody said anything. No arguments, no protests or questions. We all knew it was true. “Okay, so here’s the thing. I don’t think you’re considering how many contacts you have.”

  Romeo turned and raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “What he means is,” Optimus cut in, pushing off the wall and inserting himself into the conversation. “We have Wrench, and he’s fucking good at what he does. But this is where the trail ends. Nothing on here will tell us who bought her. But you… you know people. A lot of fucking people. People who would spend money on a girl like this. People who would know people who’d spend money on a girl like this.”

  I saw what Optimus was getting at.

  “Assholes like John Visser… they like being reminded of their own strokes of brilliance. In some strange fucking way, a part of them wants to get caught so they can explain how they got away with things and laugh like a fucking evil villain off some bad Disney movie because they think they’re smart.” Wrench’s explanation was confusing, but also made a lot of sense.

  “What are you getting at?” Romeo demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

  Wrench rolled his eyes and sighed. “You know every criminal in Las Vegas fucking personally. He’s gonna use the most obvious, so when you figure it out, it’s like it’s been under your nose the entire time.”

  “He’s right, you know. You’re the one with the contacts. You’re the one who knows Visser better than anyone. You just need to think harder,” Optimus insisted.

  “Who’s the first person he’d go to if he wanted to hide someone?” I asked, trying to prompt my brother to use that fucking brain of his.

  “Better yet, who’s the first person you would go to if you wanted to find someone?” Optimus added, looking at Romeo who was gripping another chair in his hands, looking like he was going to lose his shit.

  This could be how we find her, but he needed to dive back into that world, and he needed to remember that John Visser wasn’t around anymore. Romeo didn’t have to be scared of people discovering their connection, or John going after the people he cared about when Romeo got too close to the truth. He was still in that captive mindset which had everything he touched turned to death.

  “Visser isn’t around anymore. He’s not gonna hurt you for looking for her, or better yet, he’s not going to use her to hurt you if you start asking questions.”

  I could see the moment it clicked in his head. He didn’t have to sneak around or get the club to find the information for him. It was at his fingertips, and there wasn’t someone staring over his shoulder making threats now. He had the contacts. He was in control.

  “Unfortunately, I know exactly the asshole I need to see.” There were plenty of high profile players out there who bought girls to have at their home. It was fucking disgusting, but unfortunately, it wasn’t uncommon. “Guess it’s time for me to head back to Las Vegas.”

  “Well, that’s convenient.” We all turned to see Matt, the club lawyer, walk through the front door with Blizzard. He held up an envelope in his hand.

  Romeo groaned. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? What now?”

  “Guess who was named the beneficiary of John Visser’s will?” Matt announced like we were on some stupid ass fucking game show. “Come on down, Romeo Matherson.”

  “No fucking way in hell,” Romeo roared, picking up a chair from the nearest table and tossing it across the room. A couple of the women over by the bar screamed, but we all just stood there and watched as it splintered against the far wall. “You can keep that fucking shit the hell away from me. I don’t want it. Don’t fucking need it. No.”

  Matt rolled his eyes like he was undeterred by Romeo’s dramatics and continued forward, dropping the envelope onto the table beside us. I waited for Romeo to pick it up, but the stubborn-ass shithead wouldn’t even look at it. He continued to stare Matt down like he was the enemy.

  “I’m going back to make a name for myself.” Romeo cracked his neck and then started on his fingers. “I ain’t going to let his name tarnish my fucking shit. If people find out I was working with that asshole this whole time, there’s going to be hell.”

  “Well, good on fucking you. But what I need… is for you to get this shit sorted and tell me what you want me to tell Visser’s slimy, sleazeball fucking lawyer, so I don’t have to speak to his dumb ass again,” Matt continued, not for one second letting Romeo cut him down.

  Matt was a strong, take no shit, don’t fuck with me because I’ll shove my cock up your ass ten times harder, kind of guy. I had wondered several times why he wasn’t a member of the club. He’d fit in fucking perfectly here. But then who would take a lawyer seriously if they were affiliated with criminals.

  “I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want anything to do with him,” he murmured through gritted teeth.

  “You don’t have to take anything from him, but I noticed they’re offering you the opportunity to get anything you want out of the house before the bank forecloses on it and everything inside is sold,” Matt explained, walking over and picking up the letter off the table and holding it out again. “Everything else, I’ll write up to be given to charity if you don’t want the money…”

  I knew as much as we knew someone like Phee could use it, or even the company that owns the home she lives in could use it, that it would most likely be dirty. Real blood money. And there was no guarantee someone wouldn’t come looking for it later.

  Romeo nodded.

  “Give it to a charity. Try to fucking hide it as best as possible,” Romeo agreed. “Something to do with animals where no people are gonna get hurt.”

  Matt nodded, spilling a pen and a small pad from his pocket. “You’ve got two weeks to go down and take any belongings out of the house. Or whatever you choose to do. Let me know. I’ll get you to sign the papers waving your acceptance of anything and let them know you’ll be down to see the house.”

  Romeo nodded sharply and turned back to the pool table.

  “Thanks, Matt.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Optimus offered.

  Optimus and Wrench headed for the door with Matt and left us alone in the room. Tension was thick, and Romeo was angry. It didn’t take him long, though. Now we were alone to admit what was bothering him.

  “Convinced myself I’d never have to go back to that place again,” he mumbled, lowering himself into a chair. “After I went to jail, courtesy of his dumb ass, then you showed up…” he paused and continued, “… I convinced myself I wouldn’t have to see that fucking place ever again. Wouldn’t have to relive the memories that haunted me from there.”

  “I hear you,” I told him, sitting myself on the edge of the pool table with a bright idea striking me. “I vote we do it. We go back, and we’ll make new fucking memories.”

  He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “We gonna sit around and namaste some shit?”

  I smirked and shook my head. “Nope. We’re gonna burn that place to the fucking ground.”

  It took a couple moments, but I saw the way that processed in his head, and how he star
ted to smile when he realized he could get rid of that hellhole and take back control again. He was going back to Vegas, and he would always know it was there. And I knew Romeo, I knew part of him would wonder whether there were secrets in there, and whether someone would find them, and whether they would use them against him.

  He stood, placing his pool stick to the side. “Best we get some flights to Las Vegas then.”

  The drive to Las Vegas took six hours. It was long, but with Dakota, I couldn’t say it was boring.

  Mainly because we had the same taste in music, and we both had a love for singing extremely loud on road trips.

  A couple of motorcycles followed behind us the whole way, but not directly. I couldn’t decide if Huntsman had asked them to be discrete, or if they just didn’t want people to know we were associated. It was only when we reached Las Vegas that they pulled in front, one motioning for Dakota to follow them. Which was fair enough, given I hadn’t bothered to ask Huntsman for directions or ask for his cell phone number.

  The riders weaved through traffic, Dakota kept right on their tail. I don’t know if they were impressed or scared with the way they were ducking and diving between vehicles until we finally reached an off-ramp at the edge of the city and pulled off into an area that looked like train yards and old style factory brick buildings.

  We drove past a few construction sites with cranes and the metal structures of new buildings, a couple of club members pulling out of one of the sites and watching us pass by before pulling in behind us.

  Two streets down, we drew up in front of some large metal gates. The kind with spikes that looked almost impenetrable. It was like entering a fortress as they eased open, and the guy standing outside watched us carefully as we pulled in.

  The club members all roared past, each finding their place in the line of twenty or more sparkling Harley’s which sat outside an old school orange brick factory. The style was old, but the closer we got, I started to realize that the structure looked reasonably modern. The windows, the large roller doors that opened the space up. There were double roller doors out the back too, which looked like it opened onto some kind of concrete patio and backyard.