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I keep thinking over and over; what if they’re wrong? What if she’s somewhere else? What if…? But then I come back to Tilly’s ID. Why would they even have it?
I want to scream at the world how unfair this all is. How did my sweet, innocent little sister deserve this? And why is the world so cruel? But I never get any answers.
When we get back to the clubhouse, Cash wants an immediate debrief and since Nevada doesn’t want me out of his sight, me and Halo head to the bar.
The whole club is here, waiting to find out what went down, though I’m sure they already got the gist of it.
“Two double shots of the strongest whiskey you have, please,” Halo asks the young woman behind the bar; I think her name is Amber.
She nods and reaches behind to the top shelf.
We dropped Kyle off at his apartment on the way. I think he’s had about enough of motorcycle clubs for the foreseeable future.
Halo turns to me. “I’m going to help you get through this.”
I smile weakly. “I know. I’m lucky to have friends like you and Kyle, dragging both of you across the countryside.”
“You didn’t drag us anywhere.”
“Hey,” a dark-haired woman says from behind us. “I’m Deanna, Cash’s wife, I don’t think we’ve met.”
She’s pretty, has piercing blue eyes and a look of concern crossing them that makes my stomach lurch.
Halo, thank God, does all the talking for the both of us. “I’m Halo, this is Star.”
Deanna stills, focusing on me. “I heard about what happened.”
Amber slides our drinks across and I take mine and down it, not even wincing at the pain it causes in the back of my throat. “Could I get another, please?”
Amber nods. A sisterly-type solidarity crosses her features, like she’s heard all about my heartbreak, and even if she hasn’t, she just gets it.
I turn back to Deanna. “Thank you. For the club’s help, for everything.”
“You don't have to thank me, I didn’t do anything, though, I have someone here you may wanna speak to.”
I glance up. “There is nobody that can help me now.” I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but I’m tired. I’m angry. I can’t even face this woman who is the Prez’s ol’ lady and probably demands respect within the club. She probably means well, but I’m all outta nice. I don’t give a shit about any of that. I just want to curl up with my self-pity for a little while and let the sting settle in. Is that too much to ask?
Halo, however, looks around. “Who?”
“Woman called Diamond.”
My ears perk up. “Diamond?”
“Yeah, from the Stiletto Riders.” Deanna thumbs behind her. “She got here a few hours ago, said she needed to talk to you urgently. Nevada was on the phone to her last night…”
I frown. “He was?”
“Yeah.” She places a hand on my shoulder and I don’t know if this is gonna get better or worse, though I don’t see how much worse it could get. “I know about what they do, she filled me in, and well, you probably wanna hear what she has to say herself. Come on, we’ll talk in my old man's office.”
She doesn’t give me any option because she loops an arm around mine and Halo manages to grab my second drink and follows along behind us.
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” I start. “But I’ve had a hell of a night. We just got caught up in a takedown with another MC and I found out my sister’s dead…”
Still, this infuriating woman doesn't stop walking. I let her lead me, because at this point, what have I got to lose?
One side of my brain wants to jump up and down and remind me that hope is never lost, that Diamond may know something and it’ll all be okay, but the rational part of my brain tells me that I need to face the facts and stop deluding myself. That the reality is most women don’t survive trafficking for very long. That’s the point.
When she pushes Cash’s door open, three women look up. One is sitting, the other two leaning against Cash’s desk. They’re all in deep discussion, or were, until our presence silences them.
