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“I’m only as good as the shit that’s on the internet, pres. Nothin’ was there a year ago. Wiped fucking clean. Someone went through a lot of effort to expose this information because there’s no way I fucking missed it.” He shoved the laptop away, huffing as he stared down Grim.
Exorcist sighed, lighting up one of his homemade cigarettes laced with weed, and passed it to Xenon. Hitting it hard, Xenon inhaled, holding in the smoke several times until the tension in his shoulders began to ease.
“This is bullshit,” Grim complained, sliding a hand through his dark blond hair, tangling the thick strands.
“We don’t need more shit coming down on the club. Razr is gonna be out soon, and I’m not waiting around to reap his fucking ass.”
We all knew his personal vendetta against the BSMC, primarily for murdering our previous pres, Keys. Not that we all didn’t want the same.
“Oh, shit,” Xenon cursed. “That fucking evil bastard.”
He had my attention now. “What?”
“The senator,” he explained, his expression disgusted. “He fucking hurt his daughter.”
My Reaper heard those words, and I rushed to my feet. “Explain.”
“Medical records. Injuries. A broken pelvic bone at fucking twelve.” He shook his head. “Burns. Accidents.” He looked my way. “You don’t want to hear this.”
“Yeah, I fucking do!” I yelled.
“Birth control at thirteen and an abortion at fourteen.”
All the air deflated from my lungs as I bent over, ready to puke. She was raped. My Reaper sensed the truth. Her fucking father covered it up, probably because he was the motherfucker who did it.
I was going to kill him.
Rage like I’d known only one other time in my life, the day I found Cindi consumed me. A red haze colored my vision.
“Chaos,” Grim warned.
My entire body shook with fury. “Not. Okay,” I managed to say.
“I agree, so sit the fuck down because we’re handling this shit.”
“Fuck,” Xenon whispered a second time.
“Say it,” I snarled, waiting for more bad news as I stood, unable to do anything but slowly imagine all the ways I’d fucking make that senator suffer before I reaped his soul.
“Skyla’s alias is Missy. Missy Mitchell. There’re a few police reports.” He paused, cursing under his breath. “She was found in a fucking cage in the Scorpions MC basement, rescued last fall when Twitchy found all those girls being trafficked by the Russians.”
“What!” I exploded. That was only a few weeks before she came here, joining as a club girl on a probationary basis. She came here after being traumatized by the Scorpions MC? Why?
“How the fuck does a senator’s daughter end up in the hands of Razr and the Scorpions?”
I glanced at Mammoth, agreeing with his observation. “If Razr and John Mitchell served together and remained friends, how did Skyla get taken?”
“More shit to figure out,” Hannibal mumbled, chewing on a stick of sugar cane. “She’s hidin’ somethin’ big.”
“I think you’re right,” Diablo added. He’d been silent since the meeting began, but I could sense his dark thoughts. “Get me in contact with some of her blood, and I’ll have all the fucking answers we need.”
Grim contemplated the suggestion. “I’ll take you up on that if she doesn’t talk. We’ll give her one chance to come clean. That’s fucking it.”
Reasonable, considering she infiltrated the club for some hidden agenda. We were all thinking the same thing, just not sayin’ it aloud because this was Grim’s decision.
“That’s too goddamn easy, pres. Skyla is trouble. She’s got to be spying on the fucking club for Razr,” Rael guessed, clenching his fists. “Give me five minutes with her, and I’ll fucking find out.”
My chest gave a funny little squeeze. I didn’t like the reaction and ignored it.
