by Avelyn Paige
But that means I have to break into it, and there’s only two ways I can go about it. The easy way, with Shelby giving me enough information about her for me to crack it, or the hard way, by powering it off and using command prompts to back door my way in, risking the possibility of triggering an internal hard drive wipe, taking everything I’d need with it.
“Tell me something she likes. Television shows, movies, names of her pets, anything you think she would use as a password.” My fingers dance over the keyboard, waiting for an answer.
Shelby’s lips twist to the side as she thinks. “Oh! We watch The Bachelor together.”
My head falls. “She’s twelve, and she watches that kind of shit? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. What else?”
“Marvel movies. She really likes Iron Man.”
I try a couple of things: Tony Stark, Iron Man, Jarvis, Happy. I get nothing, except for a warning after the last try. We’ve only got a couple more tries before it locks me out. Shooting in the dark is now just as risky as trying to back door my way in.
“I’m going to have to try to do this a different way. It’ll take time.” Shelby’s face falls. “I wish I had a magic wand, but I don’t. If I rush this, the hard drive will be wiped, and we’ll be up shit’s creek.”
She tries to hide how anxious she is, but fails. “How long?”
“I should be able to get in there by morning. You can swing back by…” I try to get out before two of the club girls come crashing into my room.
“Hey, Hashy,” one of them coos. “You wanna party?” Both of them are drunk as hell, barely able to hold themselves up. Shelby looks between me and the girls with disgust and pain. I start to tell them to leave, but Shelby cuts me off.
“I can’t do this. I thought I could for Hayden’s sake, but I can’t.” She bolts for the door, and I try to catch up with her, but the club girls are in the fucking way. I zig and they zag in an attempt to trap me in here with them.
“Move your asses!” I snarl. They jump at the volume of my voice, and scatter from my room like mice running from an exterminator.
By the time I get around them, she’s already out the door.
“Haven’t seen a piece of ass run away from you that fast in a long time,” Karma yells out from across the room. “What did you do? Try that nerdy cosplay out as foreplay?”
“Shut up, asshole. Where’s Judge?”
“Something wrong?”
“Yeah, man. My kid’s missing.”
Karma tilts his head to the side. “You don’t have a kid.”
“An hour ago, I’d have said the same thing, but shit’s changed.”
No truer words have I ever spoken. Shit had definitely changed, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
Shelby
The tears are dried on my cheeks by the time I pull into the house I’d grown up in. No more, I scold myself. You’ve given that bastard enough of your tears.
But seeing those girls burst into Wyatt’s room was a sharp reminder of why I’d left him in the first place. Of why I couldn’t have my daughter anywhere near that kind of lifestyle. The club has been in the news enough as of late, proving that I’d made the right decision for me and my daughter. The reporters never mention them by name, but their calling card is evident. Once you’ve been on the cusp of their lifestyle, you know exactly who’s behind the mayhem.
The look in Wyatt’s eyes when I’d told him about Hayden, though… that had just about broken my heart. Such pain, anger, and confusion. Guilt has always niggled away at the back of my mind for keeping Hayden a secret from him, but I’d always managed to find a new excuse for why it had been the right choice. I still think it was the right choice.
But it’s not anymore. Something has changed. As much as Wyatt’s life—and the women who seem to take up permanent residence in it—hurt me, even I can’t deny the intensity he’s already shown when it comes to finding our daughter.
Though I’d told my story to several officers, it wasn’t until I’d told him about Hayden going missing that I’d finally felt even a modicum of relief. Relief that he was looking. Relief that I wasn’t alone. Relief that he had learned about our child and loved her instantly without even meeting her.
When the front door to the house opens, I swipe at my face and fluff my hair before climbing out of the car.
“Hey, Lorna,” I say, greeting my stepmother with a false smile and a half-hearted hug.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, holding me tight to her ample bosom. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Another wave of guilt washes over me, but this time, not for the way I’d left Wyatt, but for the way I’d left my dad and Lorna.
I’d spoken to them over the years, of course, but after that horrific night at the clubhouse, I haven’t stepped foot back in this town, until now. Dad and Lorna had come to visit every couple of months and stayed for a night or two, but that was the extent of it. And two years ago, when my father had suffered a massive heart-attack on the job and died, even those visits came to an end, and Lorna has been here, alone, ever since.
All I can do is hug her back and force away the fresh wave of tears, praying I don’t actually drown in them this time.
“Come in.” Taking my hand in hers, she leads me inside.
I’d always liked Lorna. My own mother had deserted me when I was about three years old, leaving me with my dad. He’d raised me and loved me, and did all the things a good parent does. He taught me how to tie my shoes and ride a bike. He taught me how to bait a hook and catch a fish. He’d taught me how to drive.
But luckily for the both of us, Lorna had come along by the time he’d needed to teach me about the growing pains of becoming a woman. And sex. And bras and boys, and thong underwear. Thank God she’d been the one to handle that. I would have been mortified, as well as my dad, if we had to work that out together.
I follow Lorna into the house, and the first thing I notice is that it smells exactly the same. Even the faint smell of Dad’s cigars still lingers in the air, likely a permanent smell on every surface in the house.
“Did you see Wyatt?” she asks, leading me to the kitchen and putting the kettle on to boil.
“I did.”
For the next hour, I sip on tea and tell her all about how the police had been useless, and about how angry Wyatt had seemed. And I tell her about his promise to find her.
“Do you believe him?”
I stare into her eyes, really considering the question before I answer, “I do.” I’m surprised at the truth of that statement. “Wyatt won’t stop until he finds her. He may not know her, but I know him. He’ll bring her home.”
“And then what? What happens then?”
Dropping my face into my hands, I take a deep breath. “I don’t know, to be honest. I just don’t know.”
Lorna gives me a sad smile and places her hand over mine on the table top. “There’s still time to think about that, honey. But, in the meantime, let's collect your things and get you upstairs. You look exhausted.”
I am exhausted. The last time I’d slept was when Hayden had been asleep, safe in her bed, just down the hall from me. That feels like forever ago. How am I supposed to sleep not knowing where Hayden is?
“Go get your stuff and settle in for the night,” she urges. “I got your old room all ready for you.” Standing, she carries the cups and teapot to the sink before turning back to me. “You know, the situation may not be the best in these circumstances, but it sure is nice to have you back home, even if it is just for a little while.”
This time, I don’t have to fake a smile, because as nice as it is for her to have me here, it’s unexpectedly nice for me to be back here, in this house. It reminds me of my childhood. Of simpler times. It reminds me of my dad.
“Thank you, Lorna,” I say softly before stepping outside to get my overnight bag from the car.
Upstairs, I push open the door to my old bedroom, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
> Everything is the same. Like, literally everything. My Justin Timberlake poster is still hanging proudly next to Beyoncé. The pom poms I’d kept from my senior year pep rally still sit on my bookshelf. Even my old CD player sits proudly on top of my dresser. It’s like going back in time.
My single bed is made perfectly, with my ruffled bedspread laid out on top of it. It looks heavenly.
I don’t waste another moment getting ready. In record time, I climb into my nightgown, brush my teeth, and use the facilities. And then, in a moment of pure nostalgia, I peel back the blankets on my childhood bed and climb into it.
When my head hits the pillow, I remember the determination on Wyatt’s face as he plucked away at the keys on Hayden’s computer. That memory is the one thing that gives me the permission I need to finally fall into a deep, much-needed sleep.
Hashtag
“I need to take some time off,” I state, just as the last of my brothers take their seats around our meeting room table. Judge’s stare hardens, and he crosses his arms across his chest.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I just said. Something’s come up, and I need to focus on it.” It’s not every day that a patch asks for time off. When you take your patch, you’re dedicating yourself to the brotherhood. You can’t just walk away from it like it’s some normal nine-to-five job, but I have no choice. Hayden needs my undivided attention.
Judge’s eyes narrow. “Don’t think I didn’t see who crashed the party tonight, Hash. What kind of trouble is she in?”
“It’s not Shelby, Prez.”
“Then what the fuck is this all about? This isn’t a job. You don’t have vacation time.” His voice comes out as a commanding growl. Part of me thought I could just walk in here and request a couple of weeks off with zero questions. Clearly, that part of me is a fucking idiot with his head stuck in the Shelby Dawson fucks-up-my-life cloud again.
“Tell ’em, Hash,” Karma interjects, prodding me to spill it. The last thing I want to do is drag my club into my personal shit, but I don’t really have a choice.
“Fine,” I growl. “I want to make it clear right now that this isn’t the club’s problem. I have a kid, and she’s missing.”
“Shit, man,” GP mutters.
“That’s why Shelby came to me. She needs my help to find her, and thinks she’s been kidnapped by someone she’s been talking to online.”
“Why didn’t she go to the police?”
“She did, but they were no help. She hasn’t been missing long enough for them to take action. They won’t even issue an Amber Alert.”
“Sounds like the bitch’s problem if you ask me,” Stone Face huffs.
“I must’ve misheard you, because I know you didn’t just call her a bitch.” The fire inside of me roars to life, and it takes every single ounce of control I have not to fly over the table and lay the big motherfucker out.
“Dude, I’d shut up if I were you,” GP snaps. “You don’t want to stir that shit pot.” Damn right he doesn’t. He doesn’t know the first thing about Shelby and I’s history. Not many of my club does outside of Judge, GP, and Karma.
“I didn’t stutter.”
Before I can put the brakes on, I’m out of my chair, chest heaving, but Stone Face doesn’t move from his fucking chair. I don’t know what his damn problem is, but I’m about to fix it with my fist going down his throat. “Call her a bitch one more time, I’ll beat that word right out of your limited vocabulary.”
GP pinches the bridge of his nose. “Here we go.”
Karma reaches into his pocket and whips out his wallet, fingers a twenty-dollar bill, and tosses it onto the table in front of him. “I got twenty on Stone whipping his ass.”
“Enough!” Judge yells, shoving himself out of his chair at the head of the table. “Both of you. Sit down and shut the fuck up!”
I glare over at Stone Face as I sit down. This isn’t the end of this conversation. For a man of so few words, he sure has a lot to say about my ex, a woman he doesn’t know at all. Do I really even know her? Shelby isn’t mine. She doesn’t wear my patch. Am I really willing to put my own patch on the line to defend her?
“Now that you two have finished your pissing match, your request is denied, Hash.”
I start to argue, but Judge glares at me, lifting his palm in the air. “Do you know who has her? Any reason to believe it’s a club motivated kidnapping?”
Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that. “Doubtful they would know about her if I didn’t, but I can’t rule it out, Prez. Not until I access the laptop Shelby gave me.”
Judge nods. “See what you can find and report back. You may not want to involve the club, but I’m not giving you a choice. She’s your blood, and that makes her a part of our family.” He glances over at Stone Face. “We protect our own. If she’s really in trouble, we’ve got his back.”
“I appreciate that, Prez.”
“Anything else we need to discuss?” The room remains silent, and with a hit of his gavel against the table, we’re dismissed. A few of the guys offer their support as we file out of the room, while the rest of them return to the party. I head straight back to my room.
Stepping inside, I close the door behind me, eyeing Hayden’s pink laptop. Time to get to work and find my daughter. As I walk toward my work desk, I yell out a command to my voice-controlled sound system, and within a few seconds, Black Stone Cherry begins to pour out of my speakers.
Settling in for what could be a long night, I wait for the screen to load, type in the first command prompt, and hit the enter key. It buzzes at me. Denied.
“Okay,” I mutter under my breath. “Let’s try this one.” I type it in, and the second I hit enter, it buzzes again. Denied. “Third time’s the charm?” The third one goes in, and the wheel spins for a split second, giving me hope, until the same buzz greets me.
Fuck, she’s better than I was at her age, and that’s saying something. I was backdooring my way into my school’s aging servers to change my grades at her age. If she can do this, what else is she capable of? Pride would be swelling inside my gut again if I didn’t need to get into her laptop so badly.
I crack my knuckles before I key in a different prompt, one I haven’t used in years. “Come on, let me in,” I mutter, hitting the enter key one more time. This time, the home screen pops up.
“I’m in!”
Wasting no time, I start looking through her browsing history. Her Google searches are atypical of what I’d normally think a twelve-year-old would be interested in. Alienware computers and coding online courses litter her history. I’d half expected to see YouTube videos, and even that fucking TikTok app I keep seeing everywhere. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Well, except the one search for The Bachelor spoilers, but I ignore that. A few scrolls more and I hit pay dirt. A message board for an online video game starts showing up repeatedly. Clicking on the most recent link, I find a conversation about cheat codes for a game called Blox World.
I switch over to her desktop and find a link to the application there. Clicking it, the game begins to load, and while it does, I open up my cell phone and pull up the information about it. Blox World, it turns out, is an interactive game for kids with interests in game development and coding. They can create their own worlds, and allow other users to test out their creations. Its setup allows even the most uneducated kid the opportunity to dip their toes into creating a world of their own. I’d have loved this kind of thing growing up.
Peering back up at the computer screen, I see the game has finally loaded, thankfully logging directly into her own game without the need of another password. A few chat windows pop open.
BearClaw220: Nice world building.
DrewD21: Can you meet me tomorrow before summer camp? I need help with programming my rocket launch sequence. Please, H?
It’s the last one that piques my interest, dated for this morning, hours before she disappeared, per Shelby.
P4r4
D0X: Can’t wait for later!
Bingo. I pull up her account history and see that she’s talked to this particular user a lot. More than a lot—every single day. I try to open some of the past conversations, but an error pops up when I click on them. I click on his username, but the information is blank, which isn’t surprising, since nowadays, game developers have built safeguards for kids from sharing their personal information, which begs the question: how did they go from online to offline?
Mulling it over, I lean back in my chair. If there are safeguards, like I assume, she had to have figured out a way to get around them. I pull up the chat with BearClaw220 to test my theory. I type in a fake phone number, and as soon as I hit enter, the number is replaced with stars in the chat box. I try a fake address this time, and the same thing happens. How did they go from online to offline if Shelby’s suspicions are right? Furthermore, why wasn’t she monitoring her computer time? No child at Hayden’s age should have free access to a computer without some kind of parental lock or supervision. The online world is dangerous for kids. If Shelby is right about where Hayden may be, there’s only one question I have.
Why didn’t she protect our daughter?
Shelby
I’m sound asleep when the door to my bedroom crashes open, causing my heart to nearly leap out of my chest. “What the hell?” I cry, sitting up in bed, suddenly wide awake.
Lorna stands in the hallway, barely visible over a hulking Wyatt, who’s already moving toward my bed. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I tried to stop him.”
“I’m done being stopped by you fucking people,” Wyatt snaps at her, flinging the door closed.
I scowl as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”
Wyatt snorts and folds his arms over his broad chest. “Like hell. That old witch is part of the reason I don’t know about my own damn kid. Besides, you have to show respect to get it, and she’s never shown me any of that.”
I suddenly become aware of the situation I’m in at this moment. A tiny room, a single bed, wearing nothing but a white tank top and pink panties. “Can you wait in the hallway?” I rasp, pulling the blanket up to cover myself.