Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2) (11 page)

“Well, I don’t know where the fuck she is.”

“Shit. I can’t get away from here for hours to check on her.” She checks her watch before regarding me for a second. “Can you check her house for me? It’s probably nothing, but I’m worried about her and there’s no way I’m approaching her father about it.”

Hearing her voice her concerns about JJ and her father makes me worry as well.

Especially after her text last night.

Maybe she actually needed help from me?

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I check our message trail. She never answered me back, and I never found the balls to follow her up, even after Maddi called me on my bullshit.

Looking past Gwen at Mad Dog, whose leg is bouncing faster than it was a minute ago, I follow my instincts.

“I’ll check her house.” Passing my phone to her, I say, “Give me your number. I’ll call you when I find her.”

Beaming at me, she grabs it from me and quickly enters her number. The cheeky bitch sends herself a message from my phone before I can say anything, smiling like the cat that ate the canary when I grunt at her audacity.

The door from the emergency area opens, and everyone in the waiting room turns to see who’s coming through it. Fucking Oliver Carter struts into the waiting room, his scrubs covered with blood, his usual arrogant smirk on his face. I’d love to knock his head off his shoulders for the way he treats JJ, but it’s an urge I’m forced to resist because firstly, she’d kill me if it affected her precious career, and secondly, I’m not looking to bring myself to the cops’ attention—which is the first place fucking cowards like him run when they’re called on their bullshit.

He seeks out Sal’s family, and they all huddle around him talking quietly. Beast’s in the middle of the pack with an arm around Sal’s Old Lady. It looks like it’s good news since everyone breaks into small smiles and the crying women who've filled the room with wailing for the last few hours finally calm the fuck down.

Now is the time to get out of here.

I can distract Mad Dog, and make sure JJ’s all right, killing two birds with one stone.

Snatching my phone out of Gwen’s hand, I nod in response to her whispered thanks and head for Mad Dog.

“Come on. Let’s go.” I jerk my head to the exit, which is currently hosting an exodus of cops and media, ready to report that the big bad biker is going to live. He shakes his head, and presses call on his phone again. I pull it from his hand, ending the call with my thumb.

His head snaps up, and he glares at me in fury.

Meeting his bleak eyes, the blood in my veins freezes.

He’s in hell. It’s written all over his face. Memories of the previous times Maddi’s been hurt are eating him alive. Fuck, they’re trying to take me down as well, so I have some idea of what he’s going through. The shit that woman’s been through is fucking unbelievable, yet every time we start to think she’s free and clear, something else happens.

“Come on. I need your help. We can meet up with the others to see what they know while we’re at it.”

At the mention of meeting with the brothers we have out and about asking questions, he pushes to his feet and walks silently through the automatic doors.

Following him to his bike, I grab his shoulder before he can throw his leg over his seat.

“We need to go to JJ’s house first. Then we’ll meet the others.”

I’m prepared for him to argue the point or at least want to know why we need to go to JJ’s, but he doesn’t say another word. He starts his motorcycle and waits, drumming his fingers on his bouncing thigh as I get my own bike started.

I pull out into the traffic, and he follows me to JJ’s house.

Hopefully, she’s only feeling sick or hiding from her father.

I can’t deal with any more shit this morning. I’m breaking the conditions of my own ultimatum, but too fucking bad. She can complain all she wants once I know she’s okay.

***

B
anging on the front door of JJ’s townhouse for the fourth time and still not getting an answer, I step back and peer through the window that looks into her living room.

Her house is dark, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s home.

“Her car’s here.” Mad Dog jogs back to me. I sent him to check whether her car was in the parking lot. “One of the windows at the back is broken, brother.”

“Fuck,” I curse. I’ve got a bad feeling growing in my gut. “I’m gonna pick the lock.”

“Hurry the fuck up. I’ll keep watch.”

Pulling my lock picks from my back pocket, I make quick work of opening her front door. Mad Dog whistles as he takes in her big-ass flat screen and surround sound, his gaze examining her empty house for clues.

Pointing him toward her kitchen, I head for her bedroom. I don’t make it there because I find a phone crushed into the carpet at the start of the hallway. Wrapping the bottom of my T-shirt around my hand, I bend down and pick it up. Part of the remnants include a purple, blinged-out case.

Exactly like the one I’ve teased JJ about a dozen times, since it doesn’t suit the image she typically conveys as a serious surgeon.

“Mad Dog,” I call out. “Get over here.”

He comes striding out of the kitchen, holding a large yellow envelope.

When I hold up the phone so he can see it, he curses. “For fuck’s sake. What next?”

“What’s that?” I ask him, glancing at the envelope in his hand.

I shove JJ’s phone into my inside jacket pocket. I’ll get Kid to look at it when we get back to the Compound.

“Fuck knows. It was propped on her table with your name on it.”

He hands it to me, and I turn it over.

Maybe I was too hard on JJ last night, and she’s run instead of facing me?

Am I about to read a fucking Dear John letter?

Written in unfamiliar scrawl on the front is not the name I expected. I run my eyes over the word Timber, something that JJ never calls me unless she’s being a smartass. The paper I pull from the envelope smells of an overpowering, sickening, feminine scent that JJ wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.

“Fuck me dead,” I groan as I read what I’m holding in my hand. 

“What is it?” Mad Dog asks.

Flipping it so he can read it, I show him the picture of Maddi and JJ sitting together on a scummy-looking bed. Maddi looks like her normal defiant, ballsy self, but JJ breaks my heart. Her eyes telecast her fear. She’s wrapped herself into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, her knuckles white from the tight hold her entwined fingers have around her legs.

“Have you lost something? Love, Sherri,” Mad Dog reads aloud the message scrawled on the bottom of the photograph. “That fucking whore. Fucking should’ve killed her when we had the chance.”

The bitch has even added a set of red lips—no doubt her own—in lipstick to the bottom of the page. I want to rip them off her ugly face and set fire to them, especially when I remember where they’ve been on my body.

Rage pulses through me, and my tenuous hold on my self-control breaks. Punching the wall to my right until it has a hole in it, doesn’t calm me, and neither does kicking over JJ’s coffee table, sending her magazines and remotes flying into the air. I’m in the process of picking up the coffee table and throwing it, when I’m spear tackled from behind and driven into the ground.

Mad Dog pins my arms to my sides, punches me in the gut, and then rolls me onto my back. He climbs to his feet, staring down at me, completely pissed off. I kick out at him. He kicks me in the thigh, sending a motherfucking bolt of pain into my hip and back before he leans down and hauls me to my feet by the front of my shirt. Securing me in a headlock when I swing wildly at him, he squeezes my neck tighter until I settle down.

“Fucking calm down! You want the cops called?” He’s breathless from our scuffle. I’m gasping in his chokehold, and beginning to feel like a fucking fool. I just wrecked JJ’s living room, broke half her shit for her when she’s already got enough to deal with.

“Can I let you go yet?” Mad Dog asks after a few moments, slowly loosening his hold on my neck.

I can’t speak. My rage has closed my throat, so I nod.

He lets me go, pushing me away from him as he begins to pace.

“Fucking Sherri. You know this means Connor’s involved? That my angel is getting fucked over for
Club Business
again?” He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in a million directions. “Both our women—since JJ’s with her. Why the fuck would they take JJ? She’s got nothing to do with this!”

Throwing myself onto the couch, I’m silent as I try to find the answers he’s seeking. I don’t have a fucking clue why JJ would be targeted except for her connection to me.

Fuck!

Every word she’s said about our different lifestyles and the Club circles my head.

Once we find the girls and deal with the fuckers who have them, I doubt I’ll see her for dust as she runs away from me.

“I’m supposed to be taking Lainey on a fucking date tonight, not standing here with my dick in my hand, unable to stop her from getting fucked up again.” Mad Dog drops to his knees and hides his face in his hands. “Six months. Six fucking months I’ve just wasted. Angel, I’m fucking sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry. Fuck me, she can’t go through this shit again.”

His shoulders are shaking, and I’m debating whether I should go to him. He’s not the most predictable person when he’s upset, so touching him could result in either a fist to the face or a hug. The decision’s made for me when his phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and rises to his feet, kicking JJ’s already mangled coffee table when he looks at the screen.

I’d hazard a guess from his response that it’s Beast calling.

“What?” His tone is clipped. Definitely Beast calling. “Yeah, I left. Was sick of sitting on my fucking hands.”

He pauses to listen. I can hear Beast from where I'm sitting, ripping shreds off him for leaving the hospital without telling him.

“Sure thing,
Prez
. I'll head back there after I've caught up with Smoke and his men.” He’s biting his tongue, trying not to lose his cool as Beast orders him back to the hospital. He shoots a look at me, one eyebrow raised. I nod. “Listen, there's more. We’re at Timber’s woman’s place, and she’s missing too.”

I hoist myself to my feet, heading for the fridge as I listen with one ear to Mad Dog filling in Beast about the photo of the girls and Sherri’s little taunt.

Grabbing two beers—JJ has gotten into the habit of stocking my brand since I'm not a fancy wine drinker like she is—I crack the top off them and head back, passing the second one to Mad Dog. He looks like he needs it, his shoulders drooping, his mouth tight as he listens to Beast explode.

I hate to say it, but the shit that happened to Maddi and Joel, plus the ongoing pressure from the cops about her missing ex has started to take its toll on Beast.

He hasn't been right for months—snapping at everyone, making decisions without taking it to the table, and treating Mad Dog like a pariah. He’s damaging his standing in the Club, and he’s undermining his own presidency with his erratic behavior. He's always been a hot head, but the last few months are the worst he's ever been.

Most of us are getting sick of it.

“Like I said, I'll be back at the hospital
after
I’ve checked in with Smoke. No, I’m not fucking bringing them with me. For fuck’s sake, Beast. Lainey's out there, JJ’s with her, and you're worried about keeping the cops off your back. Man the fuck up. We’ll deal with the cops once we've found our women.”

A volley of profanity erupts from his phone before it goes silent.

Mad Dog lowers it and stares at the screen.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” he tells the dead device, draining the beer I passed him.

“What's his problem now?” I ask.

“Apparently the cops have been breathing down his neck, wanting to know where we are. Asking questions about fucking Brendan Taylor, trying to act like this shit’s connected.” He spits the name of Lainey’s ex as if it tastes like shit. “And instead of ignoring them, he’s fucking unravelling. They have nothing on any of us. Never bloody will. So why can’t he ignore their shit?”

Finishing my beer, I grab the empties and as I’m heading to put them in the bin, a thought overtakes me.

Fuck me.

How didn’t I see this earlier?

Striding back into the living area, I quiz him.

“Do you think Beast already knew who had the girls?”

Mad Dog narrows his eyes at me. What I’ve just asked is tantamount to accusing our Prez of treason, of betraying his own Club.

“Why the fuck would you ask that?” he growls.

He may have his issues with Beast, but I’m crossing the line with my question.

Rolling my shoulders, I try to release the tension that’s gripping me. I also flex them to make sure that I have my arms ready in case he reacts badly to what I’m about to say.

“Think about it. He’s barely brought anything to the table to do with Connor. He ignores every suggestion about where we can find the fucker, and we’ve had some good fucking leads.” Mad Dog cocks his head to the side, taking in my words, the anger that clouded his expression at my first question reducing as I explain further. “Plus he didn’t seem surprised this morning when Maddi went missing. He didn’t even call lockdown, which should’ve been his first move. He was more worried about Sal getting hurt. Normally, he would’ve gone off his fucking head and we’d still be fixing whatever he fucked up...”

I’m about to point out how calm he was at the hospital earlier when Mad Dog interrupts.

“Fuck me. How fucking dumb am I? Just then, he told me to tell Smoke and the others to head back to the hospital with us. To stop looking for now. When I queried it, he fucking hung up on me.”

“You’re kidding, right? Why’d he call off the search now that we know who has them?”

This doesn’t make sense.

Maddi is his only daughter.

Normally he’d be searching himself, calling in favors, and fucking up anyone who got in his way.

“Brother, I’m not kidding. You heard me. I told him I’m not fucking doing it.” Mad Dog bunches his fists and scowls.

He’s gonna knock someone’s head off their shoulders before the end of the day.