Trouble: Crooked Souls MC (13 page)

Kat

I stood by the closed door, listening carefully for the sound of the motorcycle pulling out of the driveway.

“Bastard!” I cried, sinking to the floor with my face in my hands. How could he do this to me? He was using me all this time, keeping me close to him so he could screw me but not giving me the information he clearly had. Why would he? If I knew what happened to my sister, I wouldn’t hang around anymore.

That wasn’t true, but he didn’t know that. I would have followed him just about anywhere, as much as I hated the thought. He had come to mean so much to me, but I couldn’t tell him. The way he’d entered my heart made it even more painful to know he’d betrayed me.

Where was he going now? To laugh with his buddies? To carve another notch in his bedpost? Maybe to pick up another girl now that he knew I didn’t want anything to do with him?

I felt so humiliated and dirty. I’d let him use me. I’d lost sight of what was really important to me. Sabrina was all who mattered. I had to remember that. What could I do now to find her?

The first thing I needed to do was get my head screwed on straight. I started a pot of coffee, then went upstairs to take a shower. I had to get the feeling of his touch off me.

It didn’t help that we’d just had sex in the tub hours earlier. As I washed, I couldn’t help remembering the way he washed me. He’d been so gentle. He couldn’t have been pretending, could he?

Of course he could
, I reminded myself harshly. A guy could pretend anything he needed to if it meant getting laid. I was sure he would do or say whatever it took to get a woman into bed. I was hardly the first. How many other girls had he treated so sweetly? Were they stupid enough to believe he cared about them, too? Probably.
Maybe I should start a support group
, I thought. We’d probably have a ton of attendees if his reputation were anywhere near reality.

I put my face in my hands, crying in the quiet bathroom until the water ran cold. How could I have let him lead me on that way? I was so stupid. I’d forgotten that his number one goal was to keep me out of club business. Just because he was good in bed, I forgot my senses.
I’m sorry, Sabrina
, I thought miserably.
I let you down, sweetheart
.

In the bedroom, I quickly yanked the sheets off the bed and replaced them with a fresh set. I wished there was a way to clear out my brain so easily. The only thing close to total peace had been when Gabriel was inside me.

I sat on the bed, unable to stop myself from remembering the way it had been. When we were together, I didn’t have to worry about what would happen next. I didn’t even have to worry about my sister. I could just be, and feel good, and not berate myself for it. I needed to find another way to reach that feeling. There had to be a way that didn’t involve Gabriel.

When I went downstairs, I picked my clothes up from where I’d thrown them around the living room and kitchen. Jeez, he turned me into a total animal. And I loved it, didn’t I? What would I do now?

Stop this! He’s not the only man in the world!
I had to stop thinking along those lines. He wasn’t the be-all, end-all. He was only one person. One lying, dangerous, destructive person who hung around with other liars who caused pain and destruction to the people around them. It was better for me not to have anything to do with him or them.

I fixed myself a cup of coffee and was about to sit at the kitchen table before I remembered what had just happened on that table. I quickly went to the living room, sitting on the sofa. Crap, we’d done it here, too. Was there anywhere in the house where I could feel safe, without memories of him? Probably not. I would have to move if I didn’t want any visual reminders. Or at least get rid of some furniture.

I sulked for a long time, wondering what to do next. My coffee was cold, and I still had no idea where to turn. I put the cup down on the floor, then drew my feet up beside me and rested my head against the arm of the sofa. Maybe a little nap was all I needed. I sure hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before.

It was a fitful sleep, full of unhappy dreams. I was running, chasing something. Being chased by some nameless monster. Soon I didn’t know if I was going toward something good or away from a threat. I was just running, running, even though I was exhausted. I couldn’t stop my feet from moving. There was nothing but darkness all around me, and fog, and the smell of whiskey and cigarettes. It was enough to make me want to wretch. But I had to keep going.

Then I was back on the bluff with Sabrina. Was this where I’d been running to? It was worthwhile, if so. I relaxed, taking a deep breath for the first time in forever.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said. Hadn’t she said that before? She was wearing the white dress I remembered, and the day was just as beautiful. But this time, my sister didn’t seem so happy to see me. Now, her words sounded like a threat.

“What’s wrong? What did I do?” I asked.

“You forgot about me,” she said, pointing one long finger at me. Her hair was in pigtails, just like she used to wear it when she was little. The ribbons caught my eye as they fluttered in the salty breeze.

“I could never forget you!” I insisted.

“Yes, you did. You made me wait here alone. You forgot me. You left me here.” Her voice was full of contempt. She hated me.

“I didn’t mean to! I swear, Sabrina. You’re the person I love most in the world!”

“Liar.” She still pointed that accusing finger. I didn’t know how to make her believe me, and it was killing me inside.

“I never stopped looking for you,” I said. “Not ever. You were always on my mind.”

She looked at me with disgust, my words falling on deaf ears.

I woke up with tears on my face. I sat up, so glad it was just a dream, and wiped the moisture from my face. I’d been asleep for hours.

I heard a knock on the door and realized that was what woke me up. Someone was knocking for me. I got up and peeked outside. It was Gabriel’s friend. My hackles went up immediately, but I had no choice but to open the door.

“Hi, Kat,” he said. I got the feeling he was very shy. Imagine that, a shy MC member.

“Hi.” I looked at the driveway, where my clean car now sat. “Wow. That was fast work.”

“Well, Gabriel said it had to be a rush job. You can come out and check it if you want, make sure it’s all done the way you need it to be.”

I smiled. He was sort of sweet, soft spoken. “No, I’m sure it’s fine. As long as that awful spray paint is gone, I’m happy.”

He nodded, and I opened the storm door to take the keys from him. “Everything’s taken care of, then. Have a good day.” He smiled at me, then turned to get into his car. That same guy was with him again, Mike. I never caught the other one’s name.

It was easy to forget what these men did for a living. They weren’t sweet mama’s boys, going around calling women “ma’am.” They were thieves, violent criminals. Maybe murderers. Probably, in fact. I couldn’t let myself be fooled again by them.

I went upstairs, happier now that I had my car and my freedom. Though, when I thought about it, the word “freedom” was a funny one to use. I hoped I still had it, and that Gabriel didn’t think I owed him anything just because he got my car fixed up. It wasn’t my fault one of his psychos decided to go crazy with the spray paint.

I shivered, the image of those words still burned into my brain. They said I’d end up like Sabrina. How had she ended up? I knew, deep down, that she was dead. Otherwise, why would I keep having these creepy dreams about her?

I didn’t want to believe it, though, no matter what my subconscious or anyone else seemed to think. I refused to give up hope that my sister was still alive and wanting to come home. I was all she had in the world. I had to bring her back.

But I’d exhausted every possibility. Going to the club had been my big last-ditch effort, and now I knew how far that had gotten me. I’d had my heart broken for all my efforts, and I was no closer to finding my sister.

There had to be another way. That couldn’t have been the end of the road. She had to know someone, somehow, who had ties to this.

I looked up the stairs from where I stood by the front door. There was one more option still open to me. I hadn’t gone in there yet, not since I loaded her belongings into her old room. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t unlock the door until she came home. But there was no choice now. I was desperate. This wasn’t an invasion of her privacy. It was a last-ditch effort.

I was holding the key in my hand, having taken my keyring off the hook to return the keys to my car. It was a small, gold key which fit into the old doorknob, an original fixture of the house. I had to do this. She would want me to.

I climbed the stairs slowly, bracing myself for what I would find. It wasn’t that I was afraid to find a clue. It was more fear of the emotions I’d run into while going through her things. There was no way around it.

The key slid smoothly into the lock, then turned. And there I was, facing boxes filled with my sister’s life. A life I hoped wasn’t over yet.

I didn’t know where to start. She wasn’t a packrat, but there were still an overwhelming number of boxes and bags. I decided to take the box closest to me, sitting on the floor with it and pulling off the lid.

It was so “Sabrina,” I nearly cried. Her clothes. I pulled out the sweater which laid on the top of the pile and held it to my nose. It was her. I breathed deeply, rubbing the soft wool over my face. It was Sabrina’s scent. Her favorite perfume, Tommy Girl. I’d come to associate that scent with her over the years, ever since she first discovered it in a department store. Since she’d been missing, I’d smelled it once or twice on random women and had been overcome by memories.

I closed my eyes, feeling like she was still with me. She had to be out there somewhere.

The rest of the box was also full of clothing, which I went through with a loving gaze. It all reminded me so much of her. I could remember her wearing every single thing. Her good jeans. The skirt she sometimes wore to my gigs. The blouse she wore to a barbecue and spilled ketchup all over—she’d managed to get the stain out after soaking it, I saw. Her favorite sweatshirt, worn so many times it had started to fray at the collar and cuffs. I used to joke that she would wear it until it fell off her.

The next box wasn’t so memory-filled, but it was just as much a sight into my sister’s mind as the first box had been. This one was full of books. Classics, mostly. She was so smart. Tolstoy, Austen, Forster, Hemingway, and many others. When girls her age didn’t read much more than their social media feed or the occasional blog post, my sister was reading literature.

It wasn’t all highbrow, though. There were popular novels in there, recent titles I remembered talking over with her. A few of them had come from me, I realized. I’d passed them on to her once I finished reading them. I ran my fingers over the pages, remembering how we sat with our tea and chatted about our favorite lines and scenes. We were a book club of two, she used to say. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. She was the smartest person I knew, always full of insight. She was also wickedly funny. I could have sat and talked with her for hours on end and never gotten bored. She was always refreshingly bright and honest.

The next box was full of pictures and mementos. This was one of her few odd little habits, but even this was understandable. She saved literally everything that could ever have a meaning somewhere down the line. Ticket stubs from even the most terrible movies and concerts. Programs from every play she’d ever seen, or been part of in school. Birthday cards, Christmas cards, graduation cards. I saw a few cards I’d given her. She always wrote the date on the back, in the bottom right corner.

It was the same with her photos. She had millions of them, it seemed. Middle school, high school. Friends, teachers, neighbors. Me. Lots of me. At the amusement park, at the mini-golf course, at the beach. I remembered the dream I had and flinched, putting those photos to the side, where I wouldn’t have to see them again.

There were some random, loose photos, too. I remembered gathering them all up from a pile on her desk and throwing them into the box before closing it up. They were the only ones which hadn’t been in an envelope. I laughed softly to myself. Who had photos printed nowadays? She was like a relic from the past, but I was glad. Otherwise, I would have so little from her, if it was all on a memory card somewhere far from me.

I flipped through the loose photos quickly at first, then more slowly. The redhead in the one picture. Wasn’t she the one who hadn’t wanted to speak to me? And the brunette with the big rack. I recognized her, too. She’d been more sympathetic, hadn’t she? But she’d still been afraid to talk.

They were photos of the club. I went back to the beginning, going through more slowly this time. She must have taken a bunch of random shots with her camera phone and had them printed at the pharmacy or something. They weren’t great quality—some of them were too blurry to make much out—but they told me a lot about her life in the last few months before she disappeared.

One guy kept showing up in many of the photos. He would routinely turn his face from the camera, but his auburn hair gave him away. I knew who he was. I remembered him all too well. I could still smell him, the sick bastard.