Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
They’d been gone for fucking ever.
“Your girl looks bad.”
I snapped my head around to see Searcy with one hand to her ear, holding her phone, while the other was on her head, grabbing her hair.
My feet were moving before I could tell them not to.
I was standing at her side, my hand on her hip, as I tried and failed to listen to the other part of her conversation.
“What? When? Where is she?”
The terror in Searcy’s voice had my insides quivering.
The music shut off, and the entire clubhouse was quiet as we listened to Searcy’s ragged breathing as she listened to what was going on on the other end of the line.
When she wilted, I reached for her phone and placed it to my ear.
“This is Searcy’s man,” I said into the phone. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“This is Detective Carter with DPD,” he said.
Dallas Police Department.
Fuck.
“Okay,” I said.
“We found Ms. Hodge’s sister’s car on the side of 75. It was burned to a crisp and there’s nothing identifiable left in the vehicle besides the remains of four people. We’re assuming that Calliope Hodges is one of those people,” Detective Carter explained.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My arm went around Searcy’s body, which was shaking with silent sobs.
“Okay,” I sighed. “What do you need us to do from here?”
“Nothing,” he said. “The car will be impounded to the police impound lot where it’ll be thoroughly examined. Foul play isn’t expected at this time, however, we’re not ruling it out until a full investigation has been done.”
“Okay.” I rested my chin on top of Searcy’s head.
“Sorry for the late call,” he said. “I’ll keep you updated on everything as we move forward.”
After hanging up, it immediately rang in my hand.
Not thinking about it, I answered it and placed the phone onto speaker so that whoever it was on the line could be heard by both of us.
“Hello?”
“Who the fuck is this?” Calliope snarled.
Searcy gasped and flipped her head backward, her hair gracefully falling out of her eyes.
“Calliope!” Searcy cried out. “Are you all right?”
“Well…” She hesitated. “Someone stole my car while I was at a party. And, while I was at said party, some asshole tried to force me to give him a blow job, and I might or might not have bit the tip of his penis off. He’s down, but his friends started chasing me through the woods. I’m near 75 now, and I need a ride.”
A ride.
Holy fuck.
“Where are you exactly?” Searcy straightened her shoulders. “Give me your location, and I’ll come get you.”
“I’m walking to the Dairy Queen off of Newman. I’ll wait for you there. Maybe I’ll buy myself an ice cream to get this awful taste out of my mouth,” Calliope declared.
There was a snort behind me, and I looked over to see all my brothers standing there, eyes intense, as they listened into the conversation.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” Calliope hissed. “Why does this keep happening to me? First my car. Then my jaw. Oh, and bring me a plastic baggie. I want to put this penis head on ice.”
Nothing should’ve surprised me at this point, but that girl’s comment had just done the impossible.
“Just throw it away,” Searcy suggested.
“Absolutely not. This is insurance,” she said. “Bring the baggie.”
Then she hung up.
Searcy stared at the ceiling for a few long seconds before she said, “I have to call that cop back.”
“I’ll do it.” I patted her hip. “Get a bathroom break over with. This is gonna be a long night.”
I was right, too.
It was a long night.
Turns out, you can’t avoid police when you are thought to be dead.
Especially when said police happen to be at the Dairy Queen you walk to.
When we arrived at DQ, Calliope was at the front of the building with three police officers surrounding her.
I pulled the bike right up next to them in the closest parking spot and shut it down, hearing my club brothers doing the same on the other side of me.
Stepping off, I helped Searcy down, then walked up to the officers and Calliope with Searcy’s hand in my own.
“Can we help you?” the narrow-eyed cop asked.
“That’s my girl’s sister.” I pointed.
Calliope’s shoulders loosened infinitesimally.
“Good, maybe you can get her to explain why her car was seen lit on fire, her presumed to be in it, then a cop at the hospital called to tell us that this girl was responsible for maiming a poor kid.”
“A poor kid?” Searcy asked, eyes blazing. “Are you telling me that you’re victim blaming right now? You have no clue what happened tonight. None. Yet, you automatically assumed that it’s the girl’s fault?”
The cop’s narrowed eyes got even narrower.
“I’m just going off of facts right now,” he said. “She has yet to give her side of the story, so I’m left putting together pieces on my own, and what I’m finding are not good.”