I find my pants and the rest of my outfit by the doorway and quickly put them back on. It’s not like any club member to interrupt a fuck session. But with being on high alert from the last Coyote attack, it sends both Helena and I racing towards where we last were.
Back inside the bar’s main room, everyone is gathered in a circle around Jager. He’s standing on a chair as he reads off a phone. I don’t catch what he is saying over everyone’s commotion. I push past some of the younger men ‘til I get to his feet. I realize quickly that no one is looking at Jager anymore. They are all staring at me with horrified, angered faces.
Jager looks down towards me jumps from his seat. He takes me by the shoulder and turns me away from the crowd cramming in to eavesdrop on whatever he needs to tell me. He mutters as he says, “Cal, it’s Maddie. They took her.”
I shake my head, asking him to repeat himself. Surely, what he is saying isn’t true. It’s some joke, some sick joke being played on me by one of the guys. Maybe it’s a test from one of my rivals loyal to Ryan even in his death.
But Jager doesn’t seem to be in on it. And the longer it takes me to process it, the more he slows his voice, “Maddie, Michelle, the roommate. They’re gone.
My mind goes blank as I force myself to see this as a reality. I stammer as I try to process what I need to say. I want confirmation, “They took her?”
Jager nods as he explains, “The Coyotes. Her and that teacher that’s watching her. The patrol just found our pledges outside of their posts shot dead, their bikes and jackets stolen. When they checked over at the teacher’s house, there was an open door and a note.”
Jager places the phone in my shaking hand as I lean down to read the tiny digital picture of the crudely handwritten note, “This is for Chris and the night of the attack. Don’t fuck with the Coyotes again. Blood for blood. -- Addison Bell.”
I drop the phone to the ground, and look around. The faces are somber and cold. No one is quite sure what to do. Ace and Red Dog are at my side almost immediately as they begin to shout about revenge and promises to find her as soon as they come up with a plan. Jager joins in, bringing the war cries to a fever pitch.
Despite that, I stay quiet. I have no words. All I can hear is the sound of Maddie’s voice as she is taken away from me by social services. Now, that record is on repeat, replaying each horrible moment with the added sound of Michelle’s cries to the mix. Both of them are in danger and no one here is moving on this. No one wants to go now.
But I do. Without turning back, I head out the door towards where I parked my motorcycle. With or without the Mustangs, I’m going after my girls.
Chapter 25: Fog and Haze
MICHELLE
I can’t breathe. My knees are pushed all the way up to my chest, and I am struggling to catch fresh air over the dank smell of the exhaust seeping in through the trunk. Erin is rolled over partially on top of me. From the dim flashlight rolling around by our feet, I can see that her eyes are still closed and the little trail of blood from her forehead has stopped actively bleeding. I have no idea if she is alive or dead. I close my eyes, trying to remember what exactly is going on.
It comes to me in flashes. Three days ago, Maddie and I were upstairs working on a history project for her alternative classroom when we heard a bang. It was the sound of the door flying off of its hinges. Then came Erin’s scream and the drop of something hard and metal on the kitchen floor. I ran to our door, shutting it quietly. Turning back towards a frightened Maddie, I tried to suppress my own fear as I instructed her, “You have to hide! Go into the closet, in the very corner. Hide behind one of my storage tubs. Don’t come out no matter what. I mean it.”
She had only gotten about halfway back before I heard them running up the stairs, shouting for us to come out. I threw the doors to the closet shut just in time – half a second later, the opened the door. There were four of them -- large, burly men, wearing black jackets with patches just like Cal’s. At first, I thought they may be with the Mustangs, but when they began to instruct me onto the ground, I knew instantly who it was.
“Where’s the girl?” the leader of the group with his long, stringy beard stared me down from behind the barrel of a handgun. “Tell me where she is!”
“What girl?” I played dumb. It was my only defense.
He motioned to one of his friends and he walked over, grabbed me by my hair, and yanked me down to the ground. I was inches from the leader’s boots when he screams it again, “The girl! Where the fuck is Cal Ross’ daughter?”
I looked up at his pant legs and said defiantly, “I don’t know who you mean.”