Jayce (The Chaos Chasers MC Book 2)

by C. M. Marin

  I turn around toward it as he speaks, “Her phone is no more than twenty feet away from where you guys are standing. Behind Brent and Ben,” he gives us some vague directions before adding, “Move in that direction and I’ll guide you.”

  Since he knows exactly where we all are because of our phones, it’ll be easy for him to do. But I can’t move. My eyes land on that parking lot full of cars, and fright swells inside me. Until this moment, I’ve been clinging to the hope that locating her phone would mean locating her. But now… Now I’m wishing that she isn’t near her phone, somewhere in this parking lot. Because if she is and we can’t see her, it means…

  My brothers move, and I let them go without me. I don’t say anything. It would be impossible to talk around the large lump of sickness in my throat anyway. I bend over, my hands on my thighs, and I feed my lungs with several breaths to keep the nausea at bay. But it’s barely feasible with the unfading image of Alex’s lifeless body stuck in my mind. The very thought is horrific. It’s like I’ve already found her lying somewhere on the ground, her chest unmoving and a bullet lodged in her head.

  Too many things clash in my mind. Fear is the main feeling. I can’t help thinking that if a Spider lured her out of the hospital, it was for one reason and one reason only. One that barely allows me to breathe. And then there is the guilt that punches me in the gut relentlessly. Guilt about how the day turned out. If back at her place was the last time I talked to her… Kissed her…

  I breathe in. Then I breathe out. My body trembles, I can feel it. I solely concentrate on breathing in and breathing out to keep from throwing up.

  “She’s not here, Jayce.”

  As though a switch has been triggered, I step out of my own mind and look up to see Nate towering over me. I blink through my confusion as I straighten up, and I glance to Ben and Brent as they slowly walk toward us. I must have zoned out full minutes if they’ve already covered the entire parking lot.

  She’s not lying here lifeless. There’s still hope.

  But when my gaze falls on what’s in Nate’s hand, my heart goes back to hammering in my chest.

  Her purse.

  “Found it in a trashcan,” he says.

  “She hasn’t gone back inside the hospital,” Liam shouts at us breathlessly as he runs toward us. “Did Blane get somewhere with the cameras?”

  There’s no time for anyone to answer him before he comes to a spot beside us and horror twists his expression at the sight of her purse. Automatically, his attention veers to the parking lot, and I only have to catch his skin losing all colors to understand that his mind has gone right where mine was minutes ago.

  “She’s not here,” Brent repeats while I grab her purse. “And Blane’s still working on the cameras.”

  When I glimpse inside her purse, the first thing I see is the letter. I immediately snatch it and hand the purse back to Nate.

  My eyes widen the moment they land on the text I’m supposed to have written. “What in the fucking hell,” I growl.

  “What is it?” Liam asks urgently.

  “What?” Ben says at the same time.

  “How is this possible?” I think aloud while I read the letter, and only after I finish, do I answer their questions. “It’s my writing. It’s my damn writing. How the fuck is that even possible? I mean, obviously someone imitated it, but it’s damn fucking perfect.”

  Before I have the time to crush the paper in my fist, Liam snatches the letter from my hand. They all read it in turn while I try to wrap my head around what is written.

  “That’s seriously creepy,” Ben says about the letter. “Is it the easiest way CJ found to get her out of the hospital? I mean, that thing sounds a whole lot like he knows shit about you and her. Hell, is that club so obsessed with ours that they keep tabs about those kinds of things? Seriously, it’s more than a little fucked-up. The way he wrote this, it’s like he actually knows some of what the two of you told each other.”

  “It is,” Nate agrees. “But now we know why she left. With the handwriting and the things that are written, she must have believed it was from you. She probably never suspected the whole thing to be a set up.”

  “And there’s little chance CJ bet on a lucky guess to write this. Think about that notebook you found this morning,” Brent reminds us. “Maybe that’s not the only thing he had a look at when he broke in.”

  Most likely, even. But honestly, I don’t even give a shit right now. CJ’s goal was to get her alone and defenseless, and he got what he wanted. How he did it doesn’t matter to me. Not right now anyway. Getting my girl back is all that matters. Blane better find out something soon, because I won’t wait here pointlessly for long before I pay a visit to those fuckers. There’s no telling what they’ve planned to do to her. I can’t think beyond that. It’s hard enough to wonder why CJ didn’t kill her right here. The reason why he wanted her alive makes me want to vomit all over again.

  Unless…

  That’s when it dawns on me.

  “He didn’t kill her because he wants to use her as a bargaining chip.”

  One glance at Nate is enough for the realization to crash into him, too. “Your girl for your sister,” he snarls, his nostrils flaring as he sees as red as I do. “He wants Camryn.”

  Of course, he wants Camryn. Now, it all makes sense. He didn’t go through that elaborate plan for nothing. Only getting to a point where he could imitate my writing to perfection must have taken him forever. He carefully planned and patiently waited until he could get what he wants. And Camryn is all he wants.

  “If that’s the case, he’ll be reaching out to either of you soon,” Brent says.

  Before I can say that I hope it’ll be soon, all our phones buzz or ring at the same time. We move fast to check them, and for a split second, my stomach twists in a dreadful knot thinking about what I could see on my screen. But then I see that it’s Blane sending us a video, and it reassures me a little to know that he wouldn’t have sent me and Liam something we couldn’t have endured watching. So, I hit play and stare attentively at my screen, and a couple of seconds later, Alex is rushing out the hospital entrance, her pace not faltering as she strides presumably toward the parking lot. But then she’s gone. A few seconds, and that’s it. She’s disappeared from the screen. That camera doesn’t cover a large area at all, to say the least. The video keeps playing for a very long twenty seconds, and three people leave the building before Erin appears at the entrance. She takes a look around, shuffling on her feet with frustration for a few seconds before she looks down to fumble with her phone. Putting it at her ear, she rushes inside. That’s most likely when she called Liam.

  No more than a couple of seconds later, the video ends, and I immediately hit play again.

  Again, I watch Alex rush out of the hospital. And then I see it. I see him. Taking a closer look at the people that left the building right after Alex did changes everything I thought I knew.

  “Fucking hell! The son of a bitch!” I roar.

  “What? What is it, Jayce? Did you see something?”

  “The second guy walking out of the building after Alex,” I give him as a curt answer because I’m already texting Blane.

  My brothers seem to all go back to watching the end of the video.

  “Looks like a courier uniform he’s wearing,” Brent says, thinking that it’s what triggered my outburst.

  I hadn’t even paid attention to that detail until he spoke. Whether or not it was that guy delivering the letter doesn’t matter anyway. I recognized him, and he’s leaving the hospital; that’s enough for me. I don’t believe in coincidence.

  Now I can’t even say whether I’m more or less afraid of what I’ve just found out. All I know is that who has her doesn’t matter. I’m out for blood.

  Chapter 27

  Alexia

  I’m cold. Very cold. I feel it distinctly, but I need a few more moments to understand why nothing is protecting me from the cold air that’s stinging my skin s
o ruthlessly. Darkness is all I can see, and my mind is fuzzy, preventing any productive thoughts from being able to form. Until suddenly, brightness and clarity hit me. In the span of a short breath, the cloud of sleepiness warding off reality dissolves, and my brain commands my body to jerk upright and my eyes to open.

  My eyes narrow against the brutal lightning, but I can still see well enough to figure out why my skin is covered in goosebumps. And the reason has asphyxiating panic sneaking into me, making me forget the agonizing headache torturing my skull. Except for my panties and my bra, my clothes are gone. Air seems to become rarer and rarer around me as my gaze frantically roams around the room in search for the jeans and red shirt I was wearing before I woke up with a start.

  Tears start leaking onto my face as I bring my knees up to my chest in a ridiculous attempt to cover myself. But they are quiet. Not because I don’t feel the urge to make myself as small as possible and sob loudly until I wake up from this nightmare, but because the panic barely allows me to breathe as it is. At least it leaves me calm enough to try to weigh the situation. I know that I’m sitting on an old flowery bedspread belonging to an even older wooden bed, and that I’m only wearing my underwear. Once that’s settled in my mind, I scour my brain to find out how I ended up here. I just need a second to put aside the fact that I’m barely dressed, and then my mind can work on recouping memories of what happened to bring me here.

  The courier. Jayce’s letter. Me racing out of the hospital to get to him before he leaves town. Someone’s arm coiling around my neck so tightly that I couldn’t move. Something weird-smelling covering my nose. Me falling into unconsciousness despite fighting as hard as I could. Then, waking up in this musty smelling room.

  No, no, no… What did I do? Why did I leave the hospital by myself? How stupid…

  Stop. This isn’t the time to think about what can’t be changed.

  Just breathe, Alexia.

  I have to get out of this place. I have to breathe slowly and think about how to do that. I just need to get the fuck out of this place.

  But every hope of finding an easy solution to achieve that is crushed when I realize that the only exit to this room is a door from behind which faint sounds are coming.

  I’m not alone.

  Of course, I’m not alone, I quickly and dryly scold myself.

  As if it’ll change something, I keep my body still to the point my muscles get painfully stiff. I even quit breathing so the men behind the worn-out wooden door don’t hear me. But only briefly. Then I remember that I need to breathe if I don’t want to pass out again, and I go back to taking slow, long, and very quiet intakes of air. It calms me to keep my mind focused on this mundane task instead of on whatever is going on behind that door. Considering that the men who took me locked me up in here, keeping as quiet as possible or trying to knock down a wall to escape would be the same anyway. They know I’m here. I don’t know who they are precisely, but I know who calls the shots.

  CJ.

  Shudders run over my body as much because I still feel the cold flowing over my skin as because of the disgust coursing through me. I can only hope that the reason I’m half naked is because they believe that I’d think twice about running away with such a small amount of skin covered should I be given the opportunity. Because if they undressed me for another reason… I don’t even want to think about it. But my breathing speeds up and my heartbeat turns wild, making it impossible to let go of the panic clawing at me.

  Even more frenetically than the first time, my gaze jumps around me again. It goes from one wall to the other, then to the floor and up to the ceiling, taking in the dated purplish wallpaper with its striped pattern and the dark green carpeted floor that hasn’t been vacuumed in quite a while. The windowless room is dimly lit with one wall lamp fixed on the right side of the bed. There is another one on the left side, but the light bulb has clearly stopped working.

  What I’m seeing certainly isn’t how I would have imagined the Spiders’ clubhouse looking. They’ve always been up to their necks in businesses that are nothing but cash cows, and this is what their place looks like? Because it must be their clubhouse. There’s no way they would have brought me anywhere but there. Any MC is nearly untouchable in their clubhouse, anyone knows that.

  Unless… Unless CJ didn’t want to be untouchable.

  Oh God.

  This is a trap. That’s why I’m not dead already. I’m the bait that will lead the Chasers right here. The more I look around me, the more it becomes clear. This outdated place can’t be their clubhouse. I can’t decide if it looks more like the unused bedroom of an elderly woman or like a room meant to film some second-class horror movie, but I’m pretty sure it’s not their place. And them bringing me anywhere else has only one explanation. They expect the Chasers to find me easily―maybe they even left clues to lead them here―and come rescue me. CJ knows they will come. They’ll all come.

  Jesus, what did I do? What’s going to happen is all on me. They’re all going to come here at some point, and many could get hurt or worse. All because of me. I should have never left the hospital alone. I should have listened to Erin, but I was so upset. I was more than upset, but it’s only a distant feeling now. What Jayce did doesn’t matter. That letter doesn’t matter. I know he will come back the second he finds out I’m missing. And the prospect of him falling to the ground with multiple bullets filling his body sends chills over my already cold skin and causes bile to rise in my throat.

  Swirling into my growing fear, I forget all about the immediate danger surrounding me, and an irrepressible, loud gasp is ripped out of my constricted chest when the door bangs open in a sudden, harsh motion. Then time seems to completely freeze in the room, and my body goes rigid as my brain clouds with confusion.

  At first, an odd tiny wave of relief travels through my body. It’s barely there, but it’s deeply ridiculous anyway. Relief is the last thing I should be feeling. It doesn’t matter who is standing a few feet away from me. I’ve still been abducted and am being held in a windowless room, my clothes gone. Yet for a fleeting moment, I can’t help finding it comforting in some way that CJ’s angry features aren’t the ones staring back at me in an unnerving silence. The face of the guy who fills the doorway isn’t darkened with some twisted anger. But, the thing is, his features don’t show anything else either. They’re expressionless. Literally expressionless. Blank. And maybe that’s why the subtle relief that stupidly hit me when the resurrected Spiders’ vice president didn’t open the door evaporates like it was never there to begin with. Now that the surprise has worn off, the stony-faced man who has appeared is quite unexpectedly at least as scary as the one I was convinced I would see at some point.

  “I don’t understand,” I stammer in a whisper, my voice weak.

  I’m not really addressing him. It’s more myself I’m talking to. But at the same time, I’m unable to tear my eyes away from him.

  “That’s not exactly surprising now, is it?” he finally speaks as he closes the door behind him. I remember him being slightly arrogant, but the self-righteousness gushing out of him is so much thicker than what I witnessed back then. Since I’m not sure whether he expects me to answer him, I don’t. In the end, he goes on quickly, so I know his question was only rhetorical. “You’ve been too pathetically focused on that biker of yours to think about the mistake you’ve made.” The mistake? Slowly, I shake my head, my eyes narrowing in more confusion. What’s happening? “And your biker friends aren’t what you can call smart either, are they?”

  When he smiles, the same darkness that floods his blue eyes veils his whole face.

  His last question was also not meant for me to answer, so instead, I blurt out, “Why are you doing this?”

  I can’t keep the faint trembling out of my voice, but I’m too shaken up to even care about him possibly enjoying the fact that I’m scared shitless.

  Malcom’s eyes slide down my body and go back up to pause on my rapidly moving chest.
My knees still partially hide my breasts, but since he’s standing, he probably at least has a glimpse of their swell. Revulsion simmers deep in my stomach, and I instantly feel dirty under his lewd stare.

  When he answers me, he doesn’t even bother moving his gaze up. “Because you need to learn from your mistakes, Alexia.”

  I fight the urge to close my eyes and pretend, just for a brief moment, that this is nothing but some nightmare. As quietly as possible, I breathe in a large gulp of air, trying to figure out what this means. I could ask him directly what he’s talking about, but I’m too busy praying. Praying can only be more productive than talking to him anyway. And if I want the guys to find me, I’m pretty sure that chanting a thousand prayers is the least I can do.

  I have absolutely no idea whatsoever how long I was passed out. Which means I have no idea whether or not Liam has already gone to the hospital to pick me up―at least I assume that my brother replaced Jayce on the pick-up duty, considering the situation. If only there was a window, at least then I would know if night has already fallen. But the terrifying truth is, even if they already know I’m missing, they will never look in the right direction to find me. They’ll think it was the Spiders instinctively, just like I did. Unless they talk to Dr. Emerson and he tells them that I left of my own free will… No. They’d look for me anyway. Liam would know I wouldn’t just leave for God knows where without letting him know I’m alright. They will look for me, and they will find me. I need to believe that. I need to because I’m not going to survive the oppressive panic otherwise.

  “That biker has too much control over you,” Malcom goes on with his nonsense, totally unaware of my inner turmoil.

  Sarcastic laughter would be bubbling out of me if I wasn’t scared out of my mind. Doesn’t he realize how that sentence is the pot calling the kettle black? He kidnapped me and clearly wants me to understand that I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. And he doesn’t seem interested in asking for my opinion about it.