Wait a second, is this her trying to flirt with me? Yesterday, a pretty dark-haired girl walked up, pressed herself against me, and asked if I wanted to fuck. This is definitely a different approach, from a different type of girl. No judgment from me—after all, I did fuck that girl yesterday, and we both got what we wanted out of the night—but I have no idea what a shy, nice girl would be wanting from me. I have nothing to offer but my dick and a good time.
Maybe I’m wrong though; maybe she’s not as innocent as she comes off. Or maybe she wants to be a rebel for the night—to see what it’s like to be with a bad boy. I’m completely aware of how women see me. I’m six foot five, built, with a dark scruffy beard and longish hair that women seem unable to get enough of. I have tattoos, and I’m rough around the edges. No one would guess that I’m on break from my double major at college. No one really bothers to look beyond the exterior.
“Nice to meet you, Elizabeth. Did you have a good time last night?” I ask, attempting to make small talk with her. I’m not very good at it, but I think it will put her at ease a little. She’s a pretty enough girl, and I wouldn’t mind spending the night with her at some point during the trip if that’s what she’s after. My gaze drops to her chest, where her small breasts are pressing against her white top. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind having a taste of her one bit.
She clears her throat, so I raise my eyes back up to hers, grinning. “You were saying?”
She shakes her head, eyes looking a little sad before answering me. “It was good, yes. The club was pretty packed though. You don’t remember me at all, do you?”
I squint my eyes, wondering where the fuck I’m meant to be remembering her from. Have I fucked her before? This could get awkward if that’s the case, because I don’t remember doing so. Then again, I’ve kind of lost count of how many women I’ve been with. I cringe as that fact is brought to light. She watches me squirm for a few moments, before laughing, shaking her head at me. “No, we haven’t slept together, if that’s what you’re racking your brain over. We both went to Miles together.”
I instantly still, my expression going blank. My years at Miles High School aren’t the fondest. I moved away from that place for a reason, for a fresh start, and never did I think I would run into someone from there, especially on vacation, in a completely different country.
“Small world,” I mutter under my breath. Then louder, “Can’t say I remember you, Elizabeth.”
“I’m two years younger than you.” She nods, grinning, her blond hair bouncing. Even her hair is perky. “Probably not on your radar, but I remember you.”
If she remembers me, she would definitely remember my reputation, which has me wondering why she’s standing here, talking to me like we’re good friends. Or like she wants to be. Maybe she wants to fulfill a high school fantasy of fucking the bad boy, the man from the wrong side of the tracks. I didn’t grow up with money; in fact, I grew up living in a trailer park, and everyone knew it. I got into a lot of fights, hung out with the wrong crowd, and was generally a waste of fuckin’ space. I graduated only because I was able to ace all my exams without any kind of studying, or even attending most of the classes. The teachers were suspicious as fuck—they thought that I cheated but couldn’t prove it.
I didn’t cheat.
I decide to change the topic away from a subject I’d rather not talk about, a part of me that I had buried. “You want to grab a drink?”
She nods, beaming. “I’d love to, Cam.”
TWO
Present
“SO she’s been missing for two weeks now?” I ask, running my hand through my hair. Two fuckin’ weeks. She’s either dead and I’ll be bringing back her body, or she’s alive and being kept somewhere and will return in who knows what condition. If it’s the former, at least she can be laid to rest, and her family can have some closure.
“Yeah, two weeks,” Faye says, her tone strictly business, as she scans the papers in front of her. I have to wonder why, out of all the cases, she chose to work on this one. Faye is a lawyer who assists the feds on cases when she chooses to. I don’t know how she got into this position, or whatever deal she has going with them, or why they need a lawyer like her, but even I know she’s a good woman to have on your side.
I decide to ask, to just put it out there. If she’s honest with me, I’ll be honest with her.
“What interests you about this case?” I ask her boldly, testing her.
She lifts her hazel eyes to me, giving me all her attention. “They suspect that a biker had something to do with her disappearance, but only because she was last seen at a biker bar.”
I can’t imagine Elizabeth hanging out in a biker bar, but it’s not like I’ve seen her in years. I don’t know the person she became after we parted ways.
Faye continues, “That’s not exactly solid evidence, but it’s something to go by. Someone in the bar must have seen something, and if I go in there asking questions, it’s going to be received a lot better than if the cops do.”
That makes a hell of a lot of sense. Faye commands a lot of respect, and she definitely has the power to push herself into situations that others don’t. Over the years, while I was with the Wild Men MC, even I heard stories about her. She’s known for pretty much being a warrior, a woman with skills to take on even the best of men, and with Sin and the Wind Dragons by her side, she’s an unstoppable force.
“I’ll admit to having another reason,” Faye adds, shrugging. “But that reason is my own. The bottom line is this woman needs help, and I’m going to do my best to figure out what happened to her. If she’s alive, I want to save her. Her cousin happens to be a police officer and is pushing for all resources to be used in the search for Elizabeth.”
“I know her,” I admit quietly, then clear my throat. “At least I did. We were friends.”
“I know,” Faye admits, cringing. “I mean, I didn’t know at the start, but I saw a picture of the two of you on her social media.”
She has a picture of us? I’m not on any social media, so I wouldn’t know, but for some reason this surprises me. Sure, she took a picture or two of us on the tour, but I haven’t thought about those photos since. I think we spoke on the phone once before I joined the Wild Men, and never again after that.
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“I was waiting for you to,” she says, resting her hand on my arm. “I’m just happy you agreed to help. We can do this, Ranger, I know we can.” She removes her arm and sighs. “Although we have to work side by side with her cousin, so I hope you’re going to be okay with that.”