This man smashed my phone and computer so I couldn’t call for help. This realization has me running for the door, but I’m stopped in my tracks as he grabs me by the hair and jerks me back, slamming me onto the sofa.
That’s when it hits me that I’m trapped in my own home with this vicious stranger. This cabin that I’ve called home for the better part of my life, my refuge from the outside world. I always saw it as my peaceful place in the woods. My mind runs wild with all the truly awful things he could do to me, and no one would be the wiser.
I’m going to die here, and no one will know.
Chapter 2
Onyx
Club meetings always feel more righteous when my old man sits at the table. Even though he stepped down as Prez months ago, his wisdom is still very much needed. Plus, my old man founded this club, and I don’t think he could stay away from church if his life depended upon it.
Jasper stands, placing both hands on the meeting table and leans forward with a steely gleam in his eye. It’s his favorite power pose. Somehow my oldest brother has gotten it into his head that in order to fill our old man’s boots, he’s got to project a certain image. Then again, Jasper has always been a pretty serious fucker, so maybe this isn’t all that much of a stretch for him.
Slate, the second oldest of my brothers, is our VP. He’s scrolling through the news on his phone. Mica’s skimming the management reports I just gave him on our club’s businesses, the ones I manage, and he keeps the books on. I’m the club secretary, but do a shit ton more than just take meeting minutes. Mica is the perfect club treasurer because he has a head for numbers. Jinx, our sergeant-at-arms, is the only club officer who isn’t part of the Jackson clan. We voted him into office because he’s honest, loyal, dependable and has always had our back.
Just before he opens the meeting, Jasper’s phone vibrates on the table. He catches the caller ID, reaches over, and presses the speaker button so we can all hear what he has to say. “Detective Morgan, what can I do for you today?”
If our only trustworthy police contact in Solano County is calling us up, there must be something important going down. Morgan is the only window we have into what’s going on at the Cedar Falls PD.
Today Morgan’s voice is low, urgent, and deadly serious. “We have a missing person case and just got a warrant for the suspect’s arrest. His name is Charles Brennan. He’s wealthy, educated, and well connected. He’s also currently a fugitive from justice.”
Jasper’s gaze sweeps the table before he responds. “Why the fuck are you calling us? Do you think your fugitive might be in our territory?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s he done?” Jasper asks.
“Got a history of stalking his exes. You know what these rich pricks can be like? Thinkin’ they own their women. This one’s always been untouchable. Anyway, his girlfriend’s family just listed her as a missing person. They brought us enough information to give the DA an easy win. Somehow, he found out we were coming for him and he ran.”
My old man asks, “What makes you think he’d stray all the way out here?”
Morgan states flatly, “He likes to hike and claims he can live off the land if he had to. He gets all his clothing from high-end outdoor outfitters and drives a Land Rover. You know the type. We got a hit on his card at a gas station in Shelby, so it looks like he could be headed this way.”
“Well fuck me,” Slate says. “He sounds just like the kind of fuckin’ asshole to think he can squat on our land.”
I point out the obvious. “He might be thinking the same thing my parents did when they bought our property thirty years ago. That it’s convenient to Interstate 505, has riverfront access, and lots of places for a clever man to hide if he needs to.”
My dad throws me an annoyed look for talking about our family business with a cop. Yeah, I probably fucked up there.
Jasper rolls right past my little slip of the tongue. “I think you might be onto something, Morgan,” he replies. “I don’t want our land swarmed with fuckin’ law enforcement. Point them in another direction and our club will take responsibility for searching every square inch of our property. We know all the good places to look.”
Morgan’s voice turns wry, “Great idea. I don’t need an officer falling down a ravine or an old well.”
“They won’t if you leave the job to us.”
“Let me know if you find anything.” After a brief pause, he adds, “Needless to say, I need him alive to stand trial.”
“Don’t worry,” Jasper assures him confidently. “We’ll make sure he’s still breathing when we turn him over to you.”
“I’ll text you his picture, along with a description. If you want to send one of your prospects to me, I’ve got a piece of his clothing that you can let your dogs sniff.”
My old man answers, “Absolutely. I’ll send a prospect into the lion’s den.”
Morgan chuckles for the first time during this conversation. “That’s the first time I’ve heard our precinct referred to as the lion’s den, Rock. That’s normally what my men call your clubhouse.”
Even I’m amused by their banter. Morgan says his goodbyes and we get to planning.
Our Prez just volunteered us for a two-hundred-acre manhunt in the bitter cold. Which means every brother will be out in the wilderness, flooding our ridges and woods. We’ll be working in teams of two or three. Sounds like a fun way to spend the weekend.
