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“I hope the fuck you don’t think it was any of my crew.”
“No. They had a reaper with a piece of twisted metal in his hand instead of a scythe.”
“We know the fuckers. They call themselves Twisted Metal. They’re a local MC filled with real shitheads.”
There was a brief pause while I tried to process this new information.
Storm mumbled something to another person that I couldn’t make out, then spoke to me again. “Sit tight. It’ll take us about forty minutes to get to you. We’ll do whatever it takes to get your friend back.”
“Hurry Storm. I don’t want her with those fuckers one moment longer than necessary.”
I set down the cell and fired up my computer. It was a beast with three large screen monitors, which I’d picked up when I moved in a few months ago and had been using for some online work just to distract myself.
There were very few encryptions that I couldn’t break, so getting into the DMV’s database wasn’t all that hard. I knew how state and federal databases were set up. I typed in the license plate number and pulled up the owner’s name. Charles Revin. Then I snagged a copy of his driver’s license. The picture was clearly of the man who grabbed Angel. He even had the same strange tattoo on his left temple.
My mind filled with ideas on how to track down his associates. I checked DMV records for others who were using his same address. Then checked county records to see if he owned any property.
He was gifted some properties from his maternal grandfather. Looking up arrest records was also easy because they were open to the public in California. Hit the jackpot there. Charles Revin had been arrested seventeen times over the last eight years and the police had listed several aliases for him including Charlie, Chev and Chevron.
Slowly, I pieced together information on Revin and the MC he was involved with. But I couldn’t seem to figure out what his exact connection was to his MC. I delved deeper, slowly immersing myself into the seedy underbelly of this small town that seemed so all-American apple pie on the surface.
Around an hour later, Storm showed up with a half dozen of his club brothers. He looked at the computer screens, each showing multiple documents. Once he realized I was picking through the police database, he jerked back. “What the hell are you, some kind of hacker?”
“I’m military fucking intelligence. When we do it , it’s not called hacking. It’s called investigating.”
Storm gestured around to my computer set up. “You’re no longer in the military, numbnuts. So this is definitely hacking.”
Ignoring his rant about me breaching into state and local databases, I moved on to the subject at hand. “I’ve been digging up everything I can on Charles Revin.” I quickly went over what I’d found.
“He goes by the club name, Chevron. I’ve heard it’s because he never made it past lance corporal in the Army, which means he only ever had one bar on his uniform. His father, Duke, is the club president for Twisted Metal MC. Duke’s real name is Dunford Revin.”
That answered the question about how he was connected to the MC, but it didn’t help a damn bit. Nothing stoked my anger like running down information that led nowhere. “Don’t fucking care about his MC, but I do care that he owns properties all over the county. He’s likely taken Angel to one of them.”
Storm stared at me. “I never would have taken Chevron to be such an industrious little snot. We need to figure out why he targeted her before we go blundering into a situation we don’t understand.”
“Agreed,” I intoned. “Let’s have a look around her place. Maybe we can figure out what they want from her.”
We headed over. Her door was standing wide open.
Storm jerked his chin to the yard. “Have a look around the back. Adam and I are going to go through the house with a fine-toothed comb. We don’t need to be fucking tripping over ourselves.”
We entered her old house, which she’d inherited from her parents, and my heart melted. Unlike the previous décor from our youth, the walls were now painted in light pastels and the living room furniture was pale pink with colorful toss cushions. Everything was adorably feminine.
She had a white table and a matching desk. Little pots of flowers were scattered around, and a green vine was growing up and around the arched entrance leading to her kitchen. Her house looked just like something she would create, and it tugged at my heartstrings to see it for the first time in years while piecing together clues about her abduction.
A white kitten walked up and meowed at us. I instinctively reached down and picked the ball of fluff up before wheeling over to her desk. Her computer was opened to a spreadsheet.
Storm hovered over my shoulder. “What did you find?”
I flipped through the document. “It looks like she was providing accounting services for local businesses. I knew she worked from home, but she never said what it was she did for a living.”
I jumped to her e-mail. “She’s a certified public accountant. I can see about a dozen full time clients and a bunch of others she does weekly payroll and taxes for.”
Storm walked around the room eyeballing everything. “Was Twisted Metal MC one of her clients?”
I did a quick search on Chevron’s and his father’s real names as well as their club name, but nothing came up. “I’m not seeing evidence that she’s involved with Chevron, Duke, or their club.”
Storm’s excited voice caught my attention, “Heads up. I found her cell phone.”
