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GAUGE
Days pass with no improvement in Opal. She barely eats, hardly drinks enough, and when she sleeps, she’s plagued with nightmares. It reminds me of shades of what Jo went through after her ex, Jared, attacked her. It was hard enough witnessing when it was someone else, but it’s unbearable to experience when it’s happening to the woman you love.
Every time I try to leave the suite to check in with Chase and the investigation, Opal breaks down in sobs, pleading with me not to go. It’s gut-wrenching to see her like this, fearful and vulnerable. Gone is the bubbly woman who spreads joy wherever she goes, and in her place is a ghost.
After seeing her panic, the first few times, I knew I couldn’t continue assisting with tracking Opal’s abuser. I handed all club responsibilities over to Chase and Punk, locking myself away with Opal. Though I remain with my woman, Chase continues to keep me in the loop through text messages. It goes against the grain not to be leading this manhunt, but Opal comes first. My brothers know what they’re doing, and I trust them.
What our intel team has uncovered through the surveillance feeds and Eagle’s firsthand account hasn’t led to anything concrete. The car he was driving was a silver Buick sedan, nothing flashy or worthy of note. The plates were fake. No lead there. Our state-of-the-art surveillance could only capture a side profile, but the perp was wearing a baseball hat, concealing important features to his face that could help with facial recognition software. Eagle saw enough to give a composite, yet that seems to be unremarkable as well. It’s like the dirtbag knows exactly what to do to keep his identity hidden.
There’s little to go on. We’re dealing with a Caucasian male, thirty years of age, with a possible police background. And that last part is why we’re keeping this investigation in-house. We’ll not be reaching out to our sources in the FBI or Utah law enforcement. However, if we get into a pinch, we may reach out to Detective Luke Quire, our contact at the Fort Collins Police Department. We trust him enough to keep his mouth shut while digging for answers in their database.
Our biggest question was how the hell the creep found her. Opal rarely leaves the compound. When she does, it’s just to run a quick errand to the grocery or any other neighboring stores. Every brother who has ever escorted her has never caught sight of anyone snooping on her. She’s not on any social media, and even if she was, Chase’s team monitors all of that, with privacy set to the max. Hell, even Opal’s classes were online. She had no interaction with anyone outside of her teachers.
It wasn’t until Chase began digging into her student file at the community college that he discovered she had requested her high school transcripts for the GED program. A domino effect connected everything back to Opal here on our front doorstep.
How the information got back to her abuser is anyone’s guess. The school may have notified Opal’s drunken mother, and she may have notified her boyfriend, sending him into hunting mode. Her missing person’s file is currently active with the FBI. They could have had an alert in place if something like this had happened. The FBI may have contacted Shelly to let her know they have a lead, and she then told the boyfriend.
Or…the boyfriend had been watching all her personal information, receiving the alert directly after her transcripts were accessed. Meaning Opal’s abuser would be FBI.
Fuck.
This would explain how he’s been able to find her in the past, keeping her on the run. Anytime she used any personal data linked to her old life, he was right there waiting for it to pop up on a computer. It justifies Opal’s fear of him tracking her and what he could do to our crew.
With Opal being so fragile, I didn’t want to press too hard for information regarding the bastard. But we needed answers. Every time I asked for a name, Opal would clam up. She would immediately become agitated, begging me not to leave.
It didn’t matter how much I tried to reassure her I wasn’t going anywhere. She never settled. Nor did she give me a name. All I could do was hold her, promising to never let her go, and set aside the quest for his identification.
It was fucking maddening. My woman and her mental state are at risk, and I’m unsure what I can do when she’s keeping me locked out. Feeling like a sitting duck, I’m worried for her safety and the rest of the crew. This was dangerous ground I was treading. Mercenaries typically go into a situation knowing who the bad guy is, but we had shit on our suspect. Every man was a threat until Opal said otherwise.
I was suddenly in a position where I was the helpless one, and it fucking infuriated me. I wanted to scream and beat on my chest with how flustered I was, anything to release my pent-up emotions.
Was I angry? Hell yeah, I was. Angry that this prick was out there hunting my woman. Furious that she and my crew were in danger. Angry that Opal was suffering in silence and not letting me in. And livid, I was stuck with my hands tied behind my back, incapable of doing any good. But the anger was only overshadowing my genuine feelings—fear.
How was I supposed to be Opal’s protector when I didn’t know who I was protecting her from?
With Opal not sleeping, I wasn’t getting enough rest either, choosing to spend my waking hours soothing her or texting with Chase and the team. I dedicated every waking second to this shit-stain of a human being. It was killing me because I could handle it with such efficiency if I knew who he was.
The whirlwind of unexpressed emotions was eating away at me. I would have given my left nut to consult with Atlas, talk to someone about my worries without fear of being judged. We wouldn’t be any further ahead in the case with Atlas home in the States, but my mental health would be.
Imagine my relief when the newlyweds returned from their honeymoon early. After hearing about Opal’s encounter, as well as the rising alarm with Esteban popping back on the radar, they thought it best to return home. I damn near broke down when Atlas came to our suite, grateful to have him present for moral support. With Atlas home, he’ll resume his regular duties and Chase will be back to working his hacker magic.
“Don’t worry about the investigation,” Atlas reassures me for the hundredth time. “We’re managing fine. Focus on Opal. Leave the rest to us.”
My brother means well, but I’m dying a small death with every second that passes with no developments in the case. They’re working their asses off, and I’m twiddling my thumbs. It blows. I need to be leading this, but my need to be with Opal is stronger. After all, she’s my top priority.
CHAPTERFIFTY
OPAL
November 2020
Talking to a therapist was never an option until now. It never occurred to me to seek a mental health counselor until Jo brought it to my attention. Jo deals with her past trauma through therapy and she convinced me to attend one of her sessions.
After tagging along with Jo to her counseling, it amazed me to witness how confident Jo was when retelling her story to her therapist. She understands what it’s like to be victimized by powerful men—one being her ex-boyfriend and the other being the recently deceased head of the Bianchi mob. There was no hesitation when she described her painful memories of what she endured at the hands of these men.
Awestruck, I sat, listening to her recount the horrors she experienced at the hands of brutal men. She was confident in her open confession. I was envious, wanting to talk as freely as she does. Jo said it didn’t happen instantly. It took several sessions to feel comfortable enough to dive deeper into dealing with her ongoing post-traumatic stress disorder resulting from these past incidents. It was encouraging to hear that even baby steps can get you to the finish line.
So here I sit in one of the smaller conference rooms at headquarters across from Brandon, the student counselor in training and unofficial therapist of the Mercy Ravens MC. It was easier sitting in this room while I listened to Jo have her session. Now that it’s my turn, I’m more anxious than a teenager waiting on a pregnancy test.
