Brain (9 page)

Brain

I started cussing when I returned and saw the Expedition gone, and didn’t stop for a long, long while. I could see where Duke was with an app on my phone, as all of the RTMC vehicles have tracking devices so I can keep tabs on all of us, make sure we’re all safe, and send men to come to someone’s rescue if they get in trouble.

He didn’t answer his phone, though, so I knew he intended to take her somewhere I couldn’t find her.

McGyver was running the control room, and he was no help, though I hadn’t expected him to be.

I was on my own.

I mounted my cellphone on my bike so I could keep an eye on Duke’s location, and set off after him.

He had an hour on me, though, and I knew he’d have a plan. No one knew me better than Duke.

When he got off the interstate in South Pittsburgh and then back on it, I knew he’d handed her off to someone else. I also knew it would be someone I couldn’t follow electronically, so I went to the compound to confront him.

Duke’s smart, and he’s also a bad-ass, with the muscle to back himself up. I’m smarter than Duke, and I can kick any human’s ass, anywhere, anytime… but against the other wolves? I can hold my own with most of them, but against the best, I’m no match.

That didn’t stop me from storming into the clubhouse and taking a half-dozen swings at Duke before the other men could pull me off him, though.

“Where is she!”

“You’re too close, Brain. Let us handle her.”

“She’ll be in the wind before morning!”

“No. Precautions are being taken, and no one will lay a hand on her. She’s safe.”

“Stupid fuck! Took me a week to catch her, and you just…” I threw my arms up and stormed out of the clubhouse, got back on my bike, and rode home.

I have a room in my house not even my brothers know about. I could cause world war three from this room, and no government in the world would know a piece-of-trash biker had instigated what would probably be the end of the world as we know it.

Not that I considered myself a piece of trash. I’d grown up with money, was raised by people who had an actual say in how the world was run, and I knew
they
were the true scum of society. I went downstairs, opened the bookcase door into my weapons room, and then the fake wall at the back into my control room.

I cranked everything up, and within moments had monitors showing me the clubhouse interior and exterior, and speakers giving me audio from each place. I made sure I was jacked into Duke’s phone, and sat back and watched.

Of the people Duke trusted most, Gonzo was missing, so I did a search on all of his vehicles. None of them were somewhere they shouldn’t be, but Gonzo’s phone was at the clubhouse, and he wasn’t.

I hacked into Gonzo’s bank account, saw he’d just written a sizeable check. Ten minutes later, I discovered it was for a used Mustang.
Damn
.

Meeting Duke off the interstate in South Pittsburgh told me nothing, it was more about where to quickly make the change than about where Gonzo was taking her. Still, I could think of a half dozen likely spots.

I checked the routers at the places they’d most likely take her, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary at any of them. Wait… Duke would want a nice cage. The Atlanta chapter had a house in North Georgia they used for new werewolves, and it would only be an hour or so drive from South Pittsburgh. I went back into my records, pinged the router, and wanted to dance when it didn’t respond. Gonzo had unplugged it, just to make sure there was no internet access.

I lived in Fort Oglethorpe, and could make it to the cabin outside LaFayette in under thirty minutes on my bike.

I forwarded my calls to a burner phone, and jumped on a bike not jacked into the RTMC control room. They’d think I was still home, brooding.

It’d taken me a lot longer than it should’ve to figure out where she was, and it was after midnight. I made good time, but it was still nearly one in the morning when I pulled my bike off the road five miles from the cabin and hid it in the woods.

I didn’t want Gonzo to hear me coming.

I knew, when the cabin came into view with no Mustang in sight and Gonzo sitting on the front porch steps, she’d escaped.

I stood twenty yards from him and demanded, “Tell me everything that happened.”

He shook his head, told me how well things had gone, at first. When he got to the part about telling her to use the bathroom on the floor while he went and fixed food, I wanted to deck him. When he told me how it’d smelled, and the anger and violence coming from her when he cleaned up her mess, I didn’t realize I was going to hit him until my fist impacted his jaw.

Ten seconds later I was on my back, on the ground, looking up at him. “Dammit, don’t make me hurt you. She’s in my car, and she’s only been gone a half hour. Bash is on his way to get me, but you can go look for her,
now
, before she gets too far.”

“How much gas was in the car?”

“Half a tank. I heard her as the front door opened, and was on the front porch as she pulled away. She’s naked, with no money, in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t have a lot of options.”

“She has options you can’t fathom, you stupid
fuck
.”

“Well, if you aren’t going after her, maybe you can tell me where I screwed up. She was naked in the cage, metal shackle on her ankle. How in the
hell
did she get out?”

He followed me into the house, and I had to smile as I saw she’d used her fingernail as a shim. I showed Gonzo, and he crossed his arms, pissed. “How did she get out of the cage? It was still locked! And I’d have heard it open, and the alarm would’ve gone off, to wake me.”

“She’s tiny, and you’re an idiot. This cell was built for big guys we turn into werewolves, not a little slip of a woman.”

I walked out of the house without another word, and thought about my best option as I jogged back to my bike.

She’d have to drive until she found signs directing her to civilization, and with no clothes, she wasn’t likely to drive into a populated area.

I knew how she’d think, but she knew how I’d chase her, which nullified pretty much everything I knew. However, even though my chances of finding her on these endless country roads were practically zero, I still wandered around on them until nearly daylight.

Ice

I followed the signs to Dalton, Georgia, and made my way to a truck stop. I looked them all over, and settled on a privately owned setup, with a late thirties driver who didn’t look exhausted.

I opened the jacket, which came to just below my ass, and flashed him as I approached his truck. He rolled his window down to talk to me, and I told him, “For thirty bucks and a ride to wherever you’re going, I’ll give you the ride of your life.”

“You running from the law, your family, or your man?”

“A man. Not mine. Not anymore.”

“You a cop?”

“Nope.”

“Get in the passenger side and we’ll discuss terms.”

This would be the third time I’d been forced to sell my body to get out of a tight spot, and the RTMC would pay dearly for pushing me to it, though they didn’t know it yet.

I climbed into the passenger seat and the guy said, “I’m Dave.”

“Trinity. Where are you headed?”

“Maryland, with a few stops along the way, in Knoxville and Lexington. What kind of trouble you in?”

Yes! I’d put some stuff in storage in Knoxville so I could travel lighter on my way to Pigeon Forge. I’d be home free once I got to it. Identification, cash, credit cards, clothes, and contacts, so no one could talk about my damned eye.

I shook my head and answered, “Nothing that’ll rub off on you for taking me. I got no phone on me, no way for anyone to find me.”

“And nothing to barter with but your body? What happens when I get you to Maryland?”

“I have a friend in Knoxville, if you can let me use your phone I can get her to meet us either where you get gas, or wherever you’ll be stopping to unload or reload or whatever. And the sex is me riding you, me on top. No missionary, no doggie.”

He nodded towards his phone as he put the truck in gear. “Don’t want sex from you for the ride. Call your friend.”

“I’ll need to email her, so I don’t wake her husband. He works swing shift and I never know if he’ll be home or not, asleep or awake.”

“Whatever you gotta do.”

I knew a credit card number by memory, and could use it to go online and order a cab to meet me wherever we’d be, but since Brain had my laptop, he’d have the number and would likely be watching it, so I’d wait until the last possible moment to order the cab.

Brain

Duke didn’t think Ice would turn on the MC, but Gonzo convinced him she was mad enough, she might. He was also convinced the data she’d given him before he humiliated her had been good stuff, so the club went over it, modified their original plan where it made sense, and attacked the next night.

I was in Knoxville, Ice’s last known location, in a hotel room watching all of her credit card and email accounts, hoping she was still here.

I had an ear in the RTMC clubhouse, so I knew what had gone down, but I hadn’t answered Duke’s phone calls.

However, when the president of the Atlanta RTMC called, I knew I needed to answer.

“Talk to me, Brain.”

“I’m sure you know the story, Bud. Nothing else to say.”

“Never figured you for putting pussy above your brothers.”

“I haven’t fucked her. She isn’t pussy. Not like that.”

“Yeah. I know she grew up rich, turned her back on money, same as you. She’s also as smart as you, and a hacker. I get that ya’ll have a lot in common, but your brothers need you.”

“It took me a week to catch her before, will take longer this time. I warned them they weren’t smart enough to keep her captive, but they thought they knew better. Stupid fucks.”

“There’s no need to go after her, Brain. She helped make things right, all the data the Disciples got was destroyed, and they’ve learned once again it’s a bad idea to fuck with the RTMC. Let her go.”

“No.”

He sighed. “Okay. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still a member in good standing. You get in trouble in a city with a chapter, let me know and I’ll pave the way for them to help you. Duke’s pissed, and you’ll need to find a way to make things right with him, but you’re my brother and I want you to stay safe.”

“Thanks, Bud.”

I chased her through seven states before the trail disappeared and I was forced to go home, but I only went back long enough to pack my shit, sell my house to a new member, and officially rejoin the Atlanta RTMC. Bud sent me to help the new South Carolina chapter, and within a few weeks I’d brought them into the current century, and taught most of the men how to use the security I put in place. I also installed some new equipment for The Swan Queen, and trained her guys in how to use it.

Once again, I found myself in the control room most of the time, which was fine with me because it also let me keep an eye on all of Ice’s accounts, just in case she checked one. I also kept track of the auctions, because now that she knew about them, it was only a matter of time before she worked a deal on her own for a new identity.

After a few months, the South Carolina guys were fine on their own and I was back in Atlanta. I lived in the clubhouse, with most of my things in storage until I figured out what I was doing.

Months after I’d last seen her, I finally saw activity I was certain was Ice bidding on a soon-to-be-available identity, and lucky for me, the dying woman lived just north of Atlanta.

Ice

The woman was eighty pounds heavier than me, and had been fat all of her life, so there were no skinny pictures of her. She looked enough like a fat version of me, I could easily pass for her if I claimed to have lost weight. Her driver’s license came due in two years, and with four years between renewals, she could’ve lost it since the last picture.

She had one living brother, but they were estranged and she said it was likely he wouldn’t even realize she’d died. If he ever decided to look for her, she asserted he’d be easy enough to avoid. She worked in a high-end restaurant as a waitress, and one of the nurses in her oncology unit had suggested she go this route, so she could spend the last good months of her life enjoying herself.

What must this woman think, when she discovered her identity, her
life
, was worth twenty-four thousand dollars?

Technically, nineteen thousand, as the auction house charged ten percent, with a minimum of five thousand.

I would spend more, though, as I’d be in charge of housing her once she was too sick to care for herself, as well as footing the bill for an auction-approved hospice nurse to make her final weeks as pleasant as possible, not to mention the off-books cremation. I’d only need a chin implant, reshaping my eyebrows, and a slight adjustment to my eyelids from a plastic surgeon, though — enough to alter my face to hide from the government, and not the extensive work needed to make me look like the other girl. Also, there would be no need for the fake accident.

This woman’s identity hadn’t gone for much on the auction block because she had a horrible driving record, a dismal credit rating, over twenty thousand dollars in credit card debt, ten months left of a one year lease on her apartment, and she owed more on her car than it was worth.

All of this would be mine once I took on her identity.

However, her name was Harmony Alexis Johnson, and I
loved
the name Harmony. I also appreciated the common last name, as it would be easier to get lost in a sea of Johnsons.

She lived in Kennesaw, Georgia, which was a lot closer to RTMC territory than I wanted to be, but it was far enough I shouldn’t run into them. Besides, Brain had walked away from the Chattanooga chapter — sold his house, spent some time with the Atlanta chapter, and then gone to Charleston, South Carolina. I’d had to ditch all my old identities and accounts in order to finally lose him, but he hadn’t gone on the road looking for me in months, and I hoped he’d finally given up.

I sent money to repair Gonzo’s steering column, and I knew he’d gotten his car back. I also knew the RTMC had taken care of the Disciples. I’d sent Duke an email telling him I wouldn’t hold the RTMC to the deal to give me a new identity, and noted if I ever saw Gonzo or Bash again I’d make them pay for humiliating me, but as long as the RTMC stayed out of my life, I’d consider us square. I’d closed the email account as soon as I sent it, so I had no idea if he’d tried to respond or not. No one had come after me except Brain, though, and he’d been alone, so I hoped I was in good standing with the MC.

I’d researched Brain, extensively, once I was free and clear and had time to do so. His real name was Thurston Silas Alexander the Fourth, and he grew up in the sickeningly affluent Chevy Chase, Maryland. His grandfather was a Supreme Court justice, his brother is a senator, and his dad works so high up in the Treasury Department, I got the idea he actually runs the nation’s economy while the appointed cabinet position is just a media spokesperson and figurehead. I found conspiracy theorists who basically said if a President doesn’t do what the man wants, the economy takes a dive the next day, and continued on the same track until the President reversed his decision.

Before he became Brain, Thurston Alexander had been accepted at all the top colleges, but he decided to take a year off and travel Europe, live a little. Something happened during his trip, and when he started college the following fall, he took ethics, rhetoric, and philosophy classes at Harvard, instead of the law classes his parents intended. It seems there was a big fight, they closed the purse strings, and he used the money he had in his account to buy a Harley and a cabin in the north Georgia mountains. He’d known how to hack since he was in junior high, and he perfected it and became Wulff.

I grew up with money, and thought I was better off now, outside of the life of vapid consumerism. I still have plenty of money, but it goes towards living my life as an adventure, which for the past five years has basically meant trying to stay alive.

It figured, though, the first guy who’d interested me in a long time had been my kidnapper and captor, and could never be anything more.

He’d left some messages online for me, in places he figured I’d find — apologizing for the way I was treated and asking me to let him make it right. I hadn’t responded.

At first, I’d been set on revenge — fucking them over, causing them pain, but I’d quickly decided I didn’t want them as my enemies, and had sent the email to Duke. I’d fucked them over with the Disciples, I’d been paid well, they had a reason to be pissed, and now the Disciples wanted a piece of me, but as far as I was concerned they could get in line behind the Russians and Homeland Security. Brain was the only person who’d managed to get close, and now that I knew how he thought, even
he
couldn’t find me.

So now, I was ready to take on a new identity, move to an as yet undetermined city, and buy a restaurant under another of my identities. I’d hire my new identity on as manager, and within a few months begin the process of converting it to a nightclub. Eventually, it would become a male strip club, with my new identity running the place. With her credit history, I’d never pull off owning it. Not in the next ten years, anyway. My original dream had been to buy a horse farm one day, but Harmony Johnson had only ever been a waitress, and I didn’t need to do anything to alert the authorities her identity had been taken over by someone else.