Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I know how it works. It’s the same way with the club. There are certain things we can’t and won’t share. Not with anyone. It’s how we keep the family safe.”
“Then, you know I would be putting everything on the line if I shared something from a case with you.”
“Yes, Brooke. I get it.”
She looked at me for another long moment, then grabbed her phone from the coffee table. “I have something I need to show you.”
I had no idea what was on that phone.
But if the worried look on her face was any indication, it wasn’t good.
16
BROOKE
My stomach had been in knots since I walked out of Jimmy’s house, and they had only grown tighter since I’d pulled out my phone. I trusted Brayden. I knew he’d meant it when he said he wouldn’t put me or my job in jeopardy, but he hadn’t seen what I’d seen.
“Daniel and I did a home visit today.” I turned my phone over in my hands, staring at the black screen. “It was for a boy who’d caused some trouble for another case of mine. The specifics aren’t important.”
“Okay. Keep going.”
“We were there to make sure he was safe after everything that happened.” I looked up at him as I continued, “The house wasn’t good, but it was far from the worst I’ve ever seen. It was dirty and dusty with ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts and empty beer cans strewn on the floor… It looked like only men lived there.”
I expected a reaction from him on that, but he didn’t even flinch.
He just sat there, silently listening as I went on, “There were two bedrooms with actual beds. Again, they were messy but livable. There was food in the kitchen and the fridge, and we didn’t see any weapons lying around, which was the reason for our visit”
“So, the place checked out.”
“For the most part.” I held my phone a little tighter as I told him, “Daniel was jotting down some notes in the kitchen while I checked out the basement. It looked just as I expected. It had an old, beat-up sofa and an old TV in the center of the room. There was a gaming system and tons of games, but nothing that stood out as a problem.”
“I’m not seeing the issue, babe.”
“I’m getting there.” I swallowed, hoping to ease the lump in my throat before saying, “There was a table in the back corner. I almost passed it by, but something drew me over to it. At first, I thought somebody was working on a scrapbook or something.”
“A scrapbook?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous, especially now that I know what it was.”
“Brooke…”
“It was a bunch of pictures of men, and their names and addresses were on the back, along with a list of everyone in their family.” His eyes never left mine as I told him, “I wouldn’t have thought anything about them… it wasn’t like I knew any of the men, but they were wearing cuts.”
Every ounce of color drained from his face as he asked, “What do you mean?”
“The men in the pictures, with all the information written on the back of them, were wearing Satan’s Fury cuts… just like yours.” I opened my pictures and turned the screen to face him as I added, “There was a picture of you, too.”
“Holy shit.”
He started flipping through the various screenshots, pausing whenever it showed the writing on the back of the photo. His grip tightened around the phone when he came up to his picture, and he swallowed hard as he read what was on the back. I watched every emotion cross his face.
Recognition. Confusion. Disbelief.
And then something darker appeared when he came across the image of one of the older men. I leaned in closer and saw the name Preacher. Something about that particular brother had him on the edge. His shoulders grew rigid as he swiped again and again. He zoomed in on one of the pictures, and his breathing slowed until it was unnaturally calm.
Curious what he’d seen, I asked, “What is it?”
He didn’t answer.
I couldn’t make out everything from where I sat, but he seemed more concerned with the writing on the back of the picture than the image itself. He remained silent until I pushed, “Brayden?”
He finally looked up and asked, “Where is he right now?”
“Who?”
“The father of the kid”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s for us to worry about.”
“I risked my job showing you these.”
“I get that, but the less that’s said the better for both of us.” He kept his tone low and steady, trying to seem unfazed as he told me, “We’re not sure what we’re dealing with here. No sense in jumping to conclusions.”
He was saying all the right things, but his expression told me everything I needed to know. He was worried. Actually, it was more than that. He seemed truly rattled. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket as he announced, “I need to get this to Shep.”