AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The last thing I remember is the truck coming to a stop upside down, Reid bellowing my name and then darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
Gabriel
I’ve only been at work for four hours, and I can’t wait to get back home to my woman. Since finding out some piece of shit threatened her and my baby, I’ve found it hard to leave her side. I know the club is doing what they can to find something or someone but for weeks we have found nothing, all leads have been dead ends. Even getting our hands on the fuckin’ police report has been a slow process. We know guys on the force around here, so when we needed things in the past it was fairly easy. Not so much with Bozeman PD.
I’m in my truck on my way to Reid’s place. He hopped in his truck a few days ago and went back to Bozeman to see if he could dig up any new leads. He texted first thing this morning telling me he would be back home this afternoon and wanted to go over what he’s been able to find out. Reid lives downtown in an old two-story firehouse that he has turned into a large studio apartment. I slow and pull my truck down the alleyway, parking right behind his blue and white 1972 Chevy pickup that used to belong to his brother Noah. Before climbing out of my truck my phone pings with a text. Grabbing it from the console I swipe the screen to read a message from Austin.
Austin: I’m here, brother.
Me: Good.
I should have plenty of time to talk with Reid and make it back to the shop before my second client of the day comes in. I make my way up a flight of wrought iron stairs leading to the second story door. Before I can press the buzzer, Reid’s voice comes through the speaker. "Come on in, brother."
Walking in, I take in his home. Having been here several times since he bought the place I’m still amazed by it. The architecture inside and out reminds me of my childhood in Cuba. You don’t get to see this kind of workmanship anymore and he has restored everything, making sure to keep as much of it original as possible while adding all the comforts of modern living.
I find him sitting at his large, stainless kitchen table.
"What did you find in Bozeman?" I ask him.
Sitting his coffee mug down he slides a manila folder across the table to where I’m now standing.
"Finally got my hands on the damn police report from the Bozeman PD. It says they didn’t find much. Whoever it was knew how to cover their tracks. No prints were found on anything except for a partial on one of the knives stuck in the wall. And unfortunately, at the time, the condo wasn’t equipped with any kind of security system."
Grabbing the folder, I proceed to open it. The police report was filed by Sam McGregor. Forced entry through the patio door located in the kitchen. One statement from an elderly lady down the street. I flip to her statement on the next page detailing that she saw a small silver car earlier that day that she hadn’t seen before. I thumb through a couple more pages until I come across photos taken of the sonogram pictures that were stabbed to the wall and the malicious words that were used to threaten my family. My jaw twitches with tension. An intense rage starts to churn in my gut causing me to crinkle the papers in my hands.
"While I was there I met the friend Sam. He seems like a good guy. Took care of Alba and her friend Leah since becoming friends."
Sam.
Alba reassured me that there was never anything between them only friendship, but I don’t know him, so I don’t like him. I cut my eyes at Reid, letting him know I have no interest in hearing about the fuckwad.
"Got it. Anyway, we set up motion tracking cameras all around the property to go along with the security cameras I installed awhile back, which we still haven’t had a hit on yet. I also talked to the old lady on the police report. After listening to her go on and on about her two cats, she finally gets around to telling me she has seen that car three times since then. This guy is going to slip up. We’ll catch the son of a bitch, Gabriel," Reid assures.
Sitting around waiting for something to happen is bullshit. An uneasy feeling washes over me. I throw the folder down on the table, "So we still have nothin’," I huff out in frustration as I run my hand through my hair.
"This guy is obsessed with her, man. He’ll turn up again."
I hope so. Glancing at the clock on Reid’s wall I tell him, "I got to get to the shop. Let me know when you relieve Austin later. Sorry I had to call on you to sit with Alba. Prez needs Austin for something."
"Not a problem, man. I’ll let ya know when I get there."
Lifting my chin at him I turn and leave.
Usually tatting someone relaxes me. I get tuned into the artwork and the buzzing of the gun. Lately however with all the added stress due to all this stalker business it has had the opposite effect. My mind is elsewhere, on my woman and our child, practically every minute of the day.
My phone pings just as I’m finishing a tribal headpiece this guy wanted on his back. Pulling it from the inside pocket of my cut I swipe the screen,
Reid: I’m here. Alba wants to bring you lunch.
Me: Ok. Warm the truck up for her.
Once I’m through typing out my response, I clean the guy up and send him on his way. I don’t have another appointment for another hour, which will give me plenty of time to eat when Alba gets here.
Fifteen minutes later, after I’ve cleaned up my station, I walk to the back into the break room to make sure we have some bottled water before Alba gets here. My mind is still cluttered with the little bit of information Reid was able to obtain when my phone rings.
I retrieve my phone from my pocket answering the call, "Yeah," I bark into the phone feeling a little on edge.
