Outlaw Road (A MC Romance) (4 page)

The rest... the rest of them found solace in the warm kiss of a needle.

My parents were no exception.

But like I'd said, I was used to that. I didn't touch the shit, and I could thank my mom and dad for that. You'd think most kids wouldn't emulate their parents after seeing them sleeping in their own vomit for days at a time.

Most probably do. Just... not all of them.

My older sister, for example, fell in with the wrong crowd. It was easy for her, especially when she knew the dealers our own parents used by name.

So, yeah, there's a reason I hate the stuff. I also know it's
just
stuff, it's not who these people are. Not deep down. My parents are messed up, but they really love me.

Even if it isn't obvious.

But my sister? Claudine? She
showed
me that she cared. And that was new. She was all I had for a very, very long time. That's why, even if
no one else
gives a fuck...

I'm going to find her.

Inching around the rotting wood of the doorway, I leaned into the backyard. It was the last place my dad would be, but I had to check. The air was cool, the right kind of chill for Nebraska. Especially with Fall creeping around the corner. In no time at all, October would be on us. “Dad?” My voice was stale in the late hour. “Dad, you out here?”

Tugging my jacket high around my throat, I pushed my thick, reddish hair away from my ears. My skin was already turning pink; I hated the cold.

In the low light of the fading day, the backyard was some weird combination of junkyard and museum. Old, gutted vehicles sat in the same spot they always would. Next to a rusted lawnmower, a dusty, turquoise plastic tricycle appeared out of place.

Crunching on the gravel, I watched my breath flow into existence. I never liked coming back home, no matter how many times I did it.
Will they be okay without me?
The thought alone was twisting my guts.
Of course they'll be fine. Worry about Claudine.

No one else would, after all.

It had been over a week, time had flown by. One night, she just didn't come back to the tiny studio apartment we shared together. According to her text, she was hanging out with her new boyfriend, but when neither of them answered their phones the next day... or the day after... I knew something was off.

I did the obvious thing first, the thing they tell you to do; I went to the cops. You know what
they
said? They said, 'It's just Claudine. She's always been a little messed up. Bet she ran off with some guy, and you're a smart girl, Flora. You can guess what she's so busy with.'

Yeah. That's right. Apparently, doing a bit of heroin means nothing bad can happen to you unless you do it to yourself! They told me she was an adult, so they wouldn't search for her like she was some runaway kid. It was a 'waste of resources.'

It didn't matter that I said her boyfriend had seen her last! They wouldn't even talk to him!

Small town politics can rot in hell.

My next step was my parents, but mom and dad didn't want to discuss Claudine. She'd run out on them pretty early, they'd never repaired their relationship. I could grasp their hurt feelings, sure, but you'd think—even with bad blood—you'd worry about your missing daughter?

My father kept ranting that he was too busy getting ready to go out again for another two weeks of working at the oil drill. Mom would just walk room to room, never meeting my eyes as she got drunker and drunker.

The message was clear:
Give up on your sister.

But fuck that.

Giving up on Claudine was the last thing I'd ever do. She'd done so much for me over the years. I couldn't walk away from this.

“Dad! Hey!” Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shivered. The sun was a bleeding speck on the horizon. Where
was
he?

Turning, I spotted his dented up truck on the edge of the property. The tingling in my scalp acted as intuition; it told me what I'd find, even before I jogged up to the driver's side window. “Dad,” I breathed out, tapping on the glass.

He was curled up inside, a beer between his knees. If he was out here, it meant my parents had been fighting. I didn't have time—or much of a desire—to ask what about. “Here,” I said, cracking the door a few inches.

Grunting at me, his red-rimmed lids fluttered. “Flora?”

“Take this.” Setting the paper bag on his lap, I smiled as much as I could. It didn't reach my eyes. “Food, pain meds, water. You'll need them.”

The way his forehead crinkled said volumes. I knew my father; he was showing as much thanks as he ever would.

Shutting the door, I stepped back. I realized that this was it. I was going to try and find Claudine, even if it meant leaving this tiny town entirely. My instinct blared that she wasn't here, not any longer. I could be gone for who knew how long—I had no clue, for sure—but I didn't have the heart to tell my parents.

Maybe I'm a coward.

I think part of me was worried that my parents wouldn't even
try
to stop me.

I feared their indifference, so I never said a word about my plan. Turning, I hurried off towards the road, consoling myself with one simple phrase. One that Claudine had said to me again and again.

It's for the best.

I had to believe that. I wasn't turning back, regardless. Too much time had gone by, I
knew
something bad had happened to Claudine. I'd told the police who they should investigate. If they wouldn't, then
I'd
make the effort.

On the barely lit streets, I made a fast path towards Fiddle's house. Yes, Fiddle. The kind of name you hear and go, 'Oh. Sounds like a suspicious person to me!'

Seriously. I hate the fucking cops here.

The street narrowed, guiding me down the cracked pavement towards the skinny building Claudine's boyfriend called home. As I jumped up the steps, I had a terrible second of panic.
What if he isn't here anymore?
Her motorcycle was gone, it was why the cops leaned heavily on the idea that she'd ridden off somewhere of her own accord. Maybe she and her boyfriend
had
left together.

But... without telling me? That wasn't like her.

Walking away will tell me nothing.
If there was a sliver of information to be gained—even if it was that Fiddle and Claudine were both gone—I needed it.

I was hoping for answers tonight.

What if I got none?

Glancing up, I caught the flicker of light in a high window.
Thank god.
Some of the tension in my ribs eased away. Steeling my nerves, I banged my knuckles on the door—first softly, then louder.

Hovering on the front steps, I tucked my hands in my coat and waited. Around me, the night was giving me goosebumps. Yes, I knew this town, but that also meant I knew this area wasn't the most... friendly. Standing here made me feel like a target, though for who, I couldn't say.

The crunch of the door tipping inwards made me jump. Through the crack, I saw Fiddle's angular face. In the shadows, his eyes were more sunken in than usual. “Who the fuck are—Flora?” Blinking, he darted a nervous look over my shoulder. “Shit, what the hell are you doing here?”

Peering behind me, wondering what he was looking for, I said, “Don't act stupid. You
know
why I'm here. I need to talk about my sister.”

He licked his lips, his stare never settling. “Claudine, right. She's still missing?”

Crossing my arms, I nodded. “A week now. Last I knew, she was with you.”

Finally, Fiddle shot his frazzled eyes back to me. They studied my face, scanned for things I didn't understand—but that raised the hairs on my neck. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I—you were dating.” My eyebrows crawled high, why was he acting so weird?
Paranoid,
I corrected myself.
He's being paranoid. He must think he's in trouble. How do I calm him down?
Under Fiddle's narrowed glare, I said as gently as I could, “It's okay. I just want a lead so I can have somewhere to search. I didn't finger you as a suspect to the cops or anything, alright?”

That last part was a lie, but a pointless one. The cops didn't care that Fiddle had been with her, they'd said as much.

For a long minute, the lanky guy considered me. His fingertips on the edge of the door were white as bone. Waves of unease came off of him in thick droves. Then, like I'd imagined it all, he flashed a smile and beckoned me inside. “Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so tense. I just—shit, she's really been gone a whole week?”

Sweat slid down my spine. I ignored my instincts, following him inside. This was as close as I'd ever gotten to some answers. I wasn't going to back down after so many dead ends. “Yeah. Like I said, I'm just trying to get a lead. She texted me around ten at night last Thursday, saying she'd be sleeping here, and not to wait up.”

Inside the stairwell, I could hardly see Fiddle's expression. I thought he stiffened, his hands pausing on the door to his home. Why was it so quiet? It was like no one else lived in this building. “Huh. What'd you do when she didn't show up the next day?”

“I tried calling her, then you,” I said. “But neither of you responded.”

Nodding, he motioned for me to go through the doorway. “I lost my phone for a few days.” The yellow light from a single lamp—what I'd seen from the street—made it obvious the apartment needed a good cleaning. “You were worried, but you really didn't talk to the police?”

Spinning slowly in place, I tried to imagine my sister staying in this dump. “No.” Again with the same lie. I needed him to be at ease to get more information.

“And your family? They aren't helping you search?”

Blinking, my attention shifted back to Fiddle. “Didn't she ever talk about our parents?”

“She mentioned they were... not so involved.”

I bit back a laugh. “That's a nice way to put it. Yeah. They've been weird about this whole mess. It's like, no one seems to care that she's missing!” Ruffling my hair, I pleaded at him with my eyes. “Can you tell me
anything?
”

Tugging at the front of his thick sweater, he gave me a sideways smile. “I'll do what I can. Sit, relax. I'll get us something to drink.”

Crumbling onto the couch, I returned his smile, though mine was weaker. “Thanks. And thanks for talking to me.” I hadn't noticed how many knots were in my stomach, but now that I was sitting, they began to relax. “When was the last time you actually saw her?”

His voice called out, saying, “Hmn, let me think.” He was hidden in the small kitchen; glasses clinked, liquid sloshing. When he came back, he sat across from me, handing me a cold cup of something red. “I'd say that night, like you mentioned.”

Sipping my drink, I wrinkled my nose.
Ugh, strong.
“Okay, what time did she leave? And did she seem okay?”

Reclining until he looked downright comfortable, Fiddle drummed his free hand on his knee. “Shit. I don't know. Pretty late, she looked... distressed.”

My heart swelled up, clogging my throat; I washed it free with more of the drink. “So she didn't sleep here, like she said she was going to?”

Fiddle tensed, perching his lips on his glass. “Guess she changed her mind.”

None of this was making sense. Sitting forward, I noticed an odd tightness in my skull. I was getting upset over this news, news I
should
have gotten days ago. “Why didn't you tell the police?”

“What, and incriminate myself?” His lips pulled high at the edges until they revealed his pale gums. “I'm not that stupid, girl.”

“Flora,” I mumbled. My tongue wasn't behaving, it was too thick... too slow. “It's Flora, don't call me 'girl' I... what's wrong with me?” Shaking myself, I went to set the drink down on the floor. I couldn't have said how, but suddenly I was stretched out, the rug kissing my cheek. I didn't remember falling.

What was happening?

A foot appeared by my head. “Shh,” Fiddle whispered, bending to retrieve my glass. “You almost spilled this. What a mess that would have been.”

Talking had become the hardest thing in existence. Moving was a mere dream. Struggling, I turned my head so I could stare up through my blurring vision.

“Sorry about this,” he said. The white-glow of a cellphone highlighted his hard features. Was he calling someone? “Lucky's list was complete, but you came sniffing around. I'm sure he won't mind an extra girl. Loose ends are dangerous.”

Lucky? Who the hell was that? The synapses in my brain tried to fire, connecting the strings of this whole scenario. It really had been Fiddle who'd done this. He was responsible for Claudine vanishing! I'd been right, but what good did that do me?

I'd walked right into his grasp, made it clear no one knew I was even here. I'd set up the easiest path for this bastard to drug me without consequence. I wanted to be angry, but I was too exhausted. Too hollow.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, talking to someone on the line. “I've got another, last minute addition. I'll need a pickup quick. An hour? Sounds perfect. See you soon.” Hiding his phone in his jeans, he sighed. Settling on the couch, his position made it so I could see only the soles of his shoes. There was no regret in his tone. “You were too easy. At least Claudine fought more.”

Claudine.

You can call me insane, but as I slumped there, lifeless and numb, I had a burst of hope. A part of me that flickered to life, realizing with the utmost clarity that—even if I'd fucked up—I was still on the right track.

My goal had been to find my sister. If I'd understood that phone call, I was about to endure the same fate as Claudine. The chance of us meeting, somewhere down the line...

It had just increased in my favor.

As I faded away into the claustrophobic ink of sleep, I had one last satisfying thought. One final mantra to keep me sane as I awaited for whatever monster was crouched on the path ahead.

It's for the best.

Ronin

––––––––

“L
ooks like we're at an impasse.” Repo crossed his arms.