2
Liam
After I finished my grocery shopping, I had some club business to take care of. I belonged to the Hell’s Renegade motorcycle club. We operated out of Newbury, a town that was ripped apart by the Demon biker gang until we blew up their headquarters.
Even though we had chased the Demons to lurk in the shadows a couple of years ago, the scars they left behind were still visible. The woman in the grocery store wasn’t the first one to flinch away from me. But usually, they calmed down when they saw I wasn’t wearing Demon colors. Not her, though.
I tried to put her out of my mind as I rocked up to a rundown apartment building on the edge of town. Even if she was in trouble, she clearly didn’t want my help. Even if I wanted to, we couldn’t save them all.
I went to the apartment on my list and I knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” Someone called from inside.
“It’s Liam.”
The door opened and I looked down at the very hungover man inside. Patrick was slightly overweight and sporting some dark circles under his eyes. He reeked of stale beer and whiskey. “What do you want?” he said. “Is it about my bar tab?” Patrick was a regular patron at the Celtic Knot, the Irish pub owned by our club president, Chase.
“Well, you did tell Chase you would pay it last night but it seemed that slipped your mind.”
Patrick swallowed and fear flickered across his face. “I’ll get you the money,” he said. “I didn’t mean to skip out, I promise.”
“Easy,” I said. “I’m not here for the money. I’m here because you were nearly passed out when I shoved you into a cab last night. I wanted to make sure you got home all right.”
“Yes. Thank you.” He frowned. “I don’t remember what happened. I guess that’s why I didn’t pay.”
“It’s not like you to get blackout drunk,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
He sighed. “No,” he said. “It’s not.” He rubbed his face. “Come in. I just made coffee. I’ll pour us both a cup and I’ll get you the money.”
“Don’t worry about the money right now,” I said as I followed him into his apartment. “Just tell me what’s going on. Maybe we can help.”
He glanced at me warily as he went to the coffee maker. “I must look pretty pathetic to get pity from a bunch of bikers.”
I shrugged. “We just like to help is all. We hate seeing people in a bad spot.”
He handed me a cup of coffee. “There’s nothing you can do to help me,” he said. “I appreciate it, kid, but I fucked up years ago and now it’s too late.”
I took a sip of the coffee. “Tell me about it,” I said. “Maybe we can still help.”
Patrick ran his hand through his graying hair. “Today is the day my daughter disappeared,” he said, grimacing. “She was a sweet girl. Always trying her best in school and brilliant at sports, not that I was ever able to pull my head out of my ass enough to appreciate it.” He sighed. “I was a horrible father. I didn’t know how to raise a girl, but I never even tried to learn. After my wife died, I just left her with babysitter after babysitter. I barely saw her when she was growing up. And maybe that’s why she fell in love with a damned biker. No offense.”
I had a bad feeling about where this was going. “She fell in love with a Demon, didn’t she?”
He nodded. “I knew that biker gang was no good and I told her so. I tried to forbid her from seeing him, but she was a teenager and she rebelled. Not that I blamed her. After eighteen years, I suddenly tried to be a father? It was a joke. And one day she just didn’t come home from school. I never saw her again.” His face crumpled slightly. “She’s probably dead. I know what happens to the women they kidnap and it’s my fault.”
“The Demons are scum,” I said. “I’m sorry. You never should have gone through that.”
He scowled. “I haven’t gone through shit,” he said. “Don’t you get it? I was just sitting pretty while she was off being tortured by those monsters.” Patrick shook his head. “She would be in her twenties, today.” He gave a small smile. “She loved soccer, you know? She was really good at it, took. She probably would have gotten a sports scholarship to a fancy college or something.” He turned suddenly to a kitchen drawer and pulled out a framed photo. “Harley’s team won states her junior year of high school.” He handed me the photo and I stared at the young girl staring back at me. I couldn’t believe it. There was no way it could be true, but it was so clear…
The girl in the photo was the same as the woman I saw in the grocery store. Son of a bitch.