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Chapter Twenty-Eight

After loading Slider’s body into the hearse, I looked around, searching for Sugar. My chest was aching, and all I wanted to do was feel her there with me. Spotting Harlyn, I ducked through the crowd and crouched down beside her. She automatically reached out for me, and I picked her up in my arms.

“Have you seen your mom?” I asked as I cradled her against my side.

She shook her head. I could tell today had been hard for her, her eyes constantly scanning the crowd as though she hadn’t been aware of just how many brothers there were. They’d come from everywhere to pay their respects, and Harlyn was in complete awe.

“I saw her a few minutes ago, but she seems to be gone now,” Chelsea said, moving in beside me.

I knew Sugar had wanted to hang back and give us all our space. She wanted me to spend time with my brothers, be there for them, and feel the support they shared. I knew she felt out of place, she felt like eyes were constantly on her, judging her for what she’d done. And she and Optimus had still barely spoken a word between them. But now she’d disappeared, and in my gut I felt a pinch, telling me there was something wrong.

The boys were already on their bikes, having said goodbye to their women. We would head to the cemetery and help to bury our brother, while the women and visitors went to the clubhouse to prepare for the service that would follow. There’d be a lot of drinking, partying and celebration.

We all knew that once the funeral was done, there was to be no more grieving for our brother’s life. Once we’d said our goodbyes, the only thing left to do was celebrate Slider’s existence.

I frowned, handing Harlyn over to Chelsea as I watched my brothers head to their bikes. “If you see her, can you tell her I’m looking for her?”

Chelsea nodded with a soft smile. “I’ll take Harlyn with me back to the clubhouse. Maybe she’s already there.”

I appreciated her trying to ease my concerns, but I knew she wasn’t.

I knew it in my gut.

We all climbed on our bikes. The mighty roar of our engines together like a musical number, a chorus of revving and rumbling, each bike with its own distinctive sound that set it apart from the others, but that when together created a perfect harmony. As the hearse passed by us, we pulled out onto the street, one after another. We were a line of protection for our brother, supporting him as he traveled to his final resting place, vowing never to leave him behind or forgotten.

My skin was dirty and dusty when we arrived back at the clubhouse. We’d taken turns shoveling the dirt into Slider’s grave, burying him slowly as we remembered the things about him that had made our club whole. That was how we remembered the fallen. Unfortunately, we’d had a lot of practice at it.

The party was already in full swing, the music filling my ears as the boys and I shut off our bikes. We all headed straight for the bar, I needed a drink. I would down just one before I went in search of Sugar. Looking around the room, I couldn’t see her. Maybe she’d gone home, feeling too awkward around the clubhouse.

“Hey Wrench,” Ham said as I settled on a barstool. He passed a piece of paper over to me. “Someone called for you. They left this number. Said it was urgent.”

I frowned, looking down at the piece of paper, not recognizing the number written there.

Op was staring at me when I looked up, maybe he was also aware that Sugar wasn’t around.

I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed as I headed for the hallway to the meeting room. I needed a quiet space. It rang a couple of times before a deep male voice picked up.

“Eric Deanwell speaking,” the gruff voice answered.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up instantly, and I had to stop myself from losing my shit at him right then and there. “Want to tell me why the hell you’re calling the clubhouse looking for me?” I hissed. Given that I couldn’t find Sugar either, I was ready to tear this asshole to pieces.

I heard him scoff. “You’re a lot more polite when I see you in court.”

“Trust me, that’s for my benefit, not yours. What do you want?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and I was ready to hang up. “Annabelle is here. Something has happened, and she’s asking that you come get her,” he explained, a tightness in his tone.

The asshole didn’t like me, and the feeling was mutual. He’d faced me and more of my brothers in court than any other fucking lawyer in the state. I didn’t want to be his friend.

“What is she doing with you?” I snapped.

He sighed dramatically, and if I could have reached through the phone and wrapped my fingers around his throat, I fucking would have. “Just come get her. I’ll text you my address.”

The line went dead, and I slammed my fist into the nearest wall. It just happened to be the fist still holding my cell phone, and I felt the glass crunch beneath my fingers.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Optimus leaning against the wall, watching me. His body was tight like he was ready for me to fight back, or at least ready for me to blow him off so he could punch me in the face again.

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