Page 43 of Property of Quake

The single word is loaded with anger, not at Melissa, but at whoever put that fear in her. I stare across the lot, unease settling heavily in my chest.

"I'm scared we're going to miss something."

"You won't."

When I glance at him, his focus remains fixed on Melissa.

"You care too much not to find the truth."

My throat tightens unexpectedly. For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then Quake finally looks at me.

"We'll figure out who hurt her," he says calmly, with a certainty that's almost unsettling. "And when we do, we'll make sure she's safe, and then I’ll make fuckers pay."

Something inside me settles at those words. I don’t condone violence, but I get it. And if I’m being honest, I think I could even get behind it if it means getting some sort of justice for Melissa.

13

QUAKE

The sound of Stella's barking carries across the clubhouse property long before Melissa's laughter does.

I lean against the fence bordering the parking lot and watch the little girl race through the grass. Every few seconds she glances over her shoulder to make sure the beagle is still following. Stella never disappoints. The dog tears after her full-speed, ears flapping wildly and tongue hanging out of her mouth.

It's the first time I've seen Melissa look like a normal kid.

The sight does something strange to my chest. From the moment I met her, and every moment since, she’s looked small, fragile. Watching her laugh feels like seeing sunlight break through storm clouds.

"You're staring."

I glance to my right and find Sister Beatrice standing beside me.

“How’d you get here?”

“I called Lyric to check on my girls, and he told me about Stella being found. Figured I’d hop in the car and drive over here to see the reunion for myself.”

I dart my gaze to the clubhouse before returning it to her. “This isn’t exactly your scene, Sister.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is. But, Quake, I’m a nun, not a saint. You really need to stop putting me on such an impossible pedestal.” She folds her hands together and watches Melissa chase her dog. "She needed this," she says quietly.

"Yeah."

“You did a good thing.”

The compliment makes me uncomfortable, and I shove my hands in my pockets. “I didn’t do shit. I tried,” I say. “But it was one of the prospects who got to play hero.”

“Hmm.”

I open my mouth to argue, but my phone vibrates. Pulling it from my cut, I glance at the screen and see a text from Carrie.

About damn time.

Carrie: Just got your voicemails. What’s going on?

Relief gives way to irritation.

Me: Melissa

I don’t elaborate. If she’d have answered her fucking phone when I initially called, I wouldn’t even have to. Hell, if she’d listened to my voicemails, she’d have a basic idea of what’s going on. Three dots bounce in the text thread, and I stare at them as they disappear, reappear, disappear, and reappear again.