Exquisite Karma (Iron Horse MC Book 4) (13 page)

Shaking my head, I bit back tears as the reality of the truth of how utterly fucked I was at this moment crashed over me. “Help me find my mom, Stewart, please. I know I screwed you over with my sister, and I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t come clean and I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me.”

The sun glinted off his golden hair as he gave me a solemn nod. “Yeah, that was really messed up. Pretending that you were giving me a blow job? If Swan wasn’t such an innocent, she would have noticed I was as limp as an over-boiled noodle. But you’re right…I probably would have married her and made us both miserable forever, so I apologize.”

Cocking my head to the side, I took him in as he gazed out the front window, pulling the lace curtain over just enough to see out. “Wow, Stewart, when the hell did you stop being such a giant douchebag?”

“I fell in love.” He let the curtain drop then gave me a small smile that was anything but happy. “With a man who won’t publicly love me back for fear of being shunned from his community for his sin against a homosexual-hating God.”

“Shunned from his…holy shit, Stewart, did you fall in love with a member of Lyric’s cult?”

He flushed beet red and angrily fisted his hands at his sides. “Just—forget I said anything.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just kind of…”

“Ironic?” he supplied with a tight voice. “I am very aware. So maybe I’m hoping some good karma will bring this man that I can’t stop thinking about into my life for good. Maybe if I find your mom, Lady Karma will call us even for my toying with Sarah’s emotions all those years.”

“Maybe,” I whispered back.

He abruptly lifted his chin. “Right. Let me get to work on this. You said she might be in Colorado?”

“It’s just a hunch.”

“Well, at least it’s a starting point.”

I didn’t hear from Lyric until late the next day, and by that time I was more than eager to get on with whatever needed to be done in order to find Billie.

A heavy weight of guilt clung to me, wanting to pull me down into a depression that urged me to stay here, to hide, to let the world burn down as long as I was safe. Of course I resisted it, but it was hard to remain positive when I learned—thanks to a local Austin news station’s website—that a member of the MC, someone I knew, had been shot in the back of the head, assassination style. It bore all the hallmarks of a professional hit, and I feared the Russians had grown tired of waiting. Everything inside screamed at me to call Beach, to get a burner from Mimi and contact him to let him know that I was okay, but I couldn’t chance it. I had to vanish into thin air or my enemies would tear me apart.

A chime rang through the massive underground living room, with a state-of-the-art gigantic TV screen that took up one entire wall seamlessly. It played live broadcasts from different parts of the world, all set up to look like we were looking out an enormous glass window into some amazing backyards. Right now, the image was of sunset over some distant ocean framed by lush greenery, the darkened colors fitting my mood. The faint accompanying sound of waves helped break up the silence that came from being far below ground and added to the mental illusion that we were in some tropical paradise.

Mimi looked up from her tablet and smiled at me, her dark eyes searching my face. “Lyric’s here. She must have heard through the gossip grapevine that you were home.”

I swear, if I could lie to Mimi and get away with it, I could fool Satan. Schooling my face into a happy smile, I put the glossy gossip magazine I’d been reading down on the grey couch. After sleeping in, I felt refreshed and my stomach wasn’t as queasy as usual. Mimi had been surprised, and happy, when I’d wolfed down two enormous waffles covered with berries and whipped cream. I knew she’d noticed something was off with me, but she tried her best not to push me and I appreciated it more than she would ever understand.

Shoving myself up from the extremely comfy couch, I stretched with a yawn. “Who needs the Internet when you’ve got the compound’s phone tree?”

“True,” Mimi laughed before adjusting her stylish black reading glasses. “Tell Lyric she’s welcome to stay for dinner. We hardly see her anymore and I miss her.”

“I will.”

While I made my way quickly to the surface, I tried to tamp down the sense of foreboding that filled me and braced myself for whatever news Lyric had, or didn’t have, from Stewart. I don’t want to say he was my last hope, but he was my best at the moment, and after days and days of finding absolutely nothing to lead me to Billie, I prayed he could pull a miracle out of his ass.

As soon as I opened the back door, Lyric flung herself into my arms, hugging me tight. She was a little curvy thing, and hugging her was like hugging a super-soft and perfect memory foam pillow. No one on earth gave hugs like this girl, and I gladly squeezed her back, letting her happy laughter soothe something inside of me. Her head only came up to my shoulder and her lovely hazel eyes sparkled up at me as she stepped back, holding me at arm’s length. The smile faded from her face as she studied me closer, her strong, dark brows pulling down as she frowned.

“Sarah, have you been sick?”

“I look that bad, huh?”

“No—no, you just seem…tired.”

“You mean I look like death warmed over?”

“Pretty much.” Pink tinged her cheeks and she motioned to me, her long floral skirt blowing around her brown hiking boots. “Can we talk out by the tree?”

I had to resist the urge to glance over my shoulder at the hidden cameras my parents had all over the house as I smiled. “Sure.”

She was quiet while we made our way across the open backyard, heading towards the picnic area set up in a field that butted against a sheer rock cliff behind our house that went up five stories. I can tell you from personal experience that cliff is one motherfucker to climb. This section of my parents’ property was used for entertaining, and it was set up to accommodate a large group of people, with over two dozen picnic tables.

One would think that a bunch of prepper compounds of different flavors and beliefs would keep away from each other, but here in our little slice of the Texas Hill Country, it was the opposite. Everyone talked to everyone, and while they may argue about who was right and wrong, they all agreed we were equally fucked and that led to a certain sense of kinship among the crazy. Plus, if the world did implode, everyone knew they could rely on their neighbors to get through the tough times and back to the sweet. Or at least that’s how Swan explained it.

We took a seat on one of the well-made pine tables beneath the old sassafras tree that dominated this portion of the yard. A light wind stirred both the leaves and wisps of Lyric’s waist-length brown hair that had escaped her braid. She smoothed a piece back then pulled a folded envelope from her dowdy skirt’s pocket.

“Here, Stewart asked me to give this to you.”

“Did he say what it is?”

She shrugged, her gaze darting away from mine. “I didn’t see him. Eli, Stewart’s…friend, brought it to me.”

I raised my eyebrows as I tried to remember who Eli was. “Eli? The skinny blond kid with all those freckles? He’s Stewart’s boyfriend?”

“Yes, and the new pastor is totally against homosexuality. Says it’s an abomination. Eli’s struggling with his feelings right now.”

Lyric’s father, the old head pastor of the Christian compound where Lyric lived, had passed away recently. Upon his death, a leadership void had been left within the church, but it was quickly filled by some dickhead pastor who’d somehow slithered his way into Lyric’s mother’s, Evelyn’s, no doubt ice-cold and dry-as-a-bone panties.

To make things worse, the guy was a not-so-closeted white supremacist, and he had brought a bunch of new families with him. My dad had been pretty pissed off about that, but he’d had some kind of conversation with the pastor that left my dad satisfied enough that he’d let them stay. Probably had something to do with the fact that Lyric wouldn’t leave the compound until her grandmother, who’d pretty much raised her, passed away. The old woman was completely lost to Alzheimer’s and weak as a newborn kitten, but showed no signs of departing this world anytime soon, leaving Lyric and her church to care for the old woman.

Lyric looked around quickly, as if afraid someone had overheard us. “You can’t say anything. Eli would be kicked out if anyone found out and he’s afraid to leave his sisters alone with their parents. He doesn’t get along with the new pastor as it is, and I don’t want to make things any tougher for him than they are.

“Look, I know this is hard for you to understand because you grew up in the outside world, but for people like me and him—we’re completely handicapped by our isolation. We have no idea how to get jobs, or find a place to stay, or even how to use credit cards. I mean,
I
do because you guys showed me how, but Eli is a true believer. He never had any interest in anything but serving the church that took care of him. Now that things are different, he’s struggling to adjust his view of the world. Stewart’s helping him figure out how to get legal custody of his sisters, but it isn’t going to be easy.”

I came to a snap decision that felt right. “If he wants out, just let me know. I can set up him with a new identity, him and the girls. He’ll have to deal with the fact that he’ll be under the protection of a bunch of outlaw bikers, but he’ll be free.”

Giving a hysterical giggle, Lyric waved her hands around in the air. “Oh sure, that’ll totally put his mind at ease. I’m sure he’d love to rescue his two beautiful, sixteen- and eighteen-year-old sisters, only to find them surrounded by criminal bikers instead of racist assholes. I’m sure he’ll be totally fine with that.”

“Honey, you need to leave.”

“Whatever.” She wrinkled her small nose at my often repeated advice, a determined expression shutting her heart-shaped face down. “What’s going on with you and Stewart? Last I heard you two hated each other after BJ Gate.”

I grimaced at the name my friends on the compound have given my rash, drunken attempt to convince Swan her fiancé was no good for her. I’d staged it to look like I was giving Stewart oral sex in one of the stupidest attempts to help my sister in human history. Just the memory of how badly it had all gone made me want to shrink down in embarrassment. “We’ve got business.”

The color left her face. “Sarah, please tell me you’re not getting involved in your dad’s stuff. You know I love Mike, but what he does isn’t safe.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” I shoved away the taunting thought that Iron Horse most certainly dealt in illegal firearms, like my dad.

She glanced at the utilitarian watch on her wrist before sucking in a hard breath. “Crap, I need to head back before it gets too late and they notice I’m gone.”

The worry in her voice alarmed me and I grasped her elbow with the hand not holding the envelope. “So what if you’re out late? What are they going to do, ground you?”

Something that really bothered me gleamed in her wide eyes for a moment before she jerked her hand free. “Just extra prayer time. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, really I am.”

I wanted to argue with her and try to get her to hang out, but I needed to make sure Lyric gave a message to Swan before she left. Deep in my heart, I knew she was in Iron Horse custody by now, and I also knew she’d come looking for me. Back at my home in Austin, I’d left a message for her in a rather unconventional place, a huge dildo I’d gotten as a joke for Beach. Inside the battery compartment I’d stashed a message for her, letting her know that she needed to go to my parents’ house. Like a fucked-up scavenger hunt, I’d leave another message with Lyric, letting Swan know where I was going next. It wasn’t like I had my phone and could text her, because Stewart now had my phone.

Shit, he still had my phone—which probably meant something was wrong with it.

“Hold on one sec,” I said as I ripped open the envelope from Stewart.

A quick scan had me swallowing back bile as I learned my phone had all kinds of fucked-up shit on it, and that someone had been able to hear and read my every call and text, as well as locate me for who knows how long. As I read on, my palms grew damp with fear. Stewart had done some digging, and like me, he highly suspected there was a traitor—or traitors—in Iron Horse MC, and that they held positions of authority within the club. My hand shook as I scanned the document, trying to process all the information he’d given me.

My mind latched on to the word “Colorado” and my pulse raced as I read the paragraph that changed everything.

Your mom is either in or headed to somewhere around Boulder, Colorado. Word on the dark web is that there will be a major deal going on there soon with multiple buyers bidding on some top-of-the-line weaponry, including missiles. I looked over the manifest for the cargo Iron Horse had been moving and it pretty much matches up, minus a few things. My best guess is if you go there, you’re going to find your cargo if you can find out where the sale is going to take place. Oh, and if I was a betting man, I’d say Iron Horse’s Colorado clubhouse has some traitors in it as well. I’d avoid going to them for help unless you want to end up being sold into sexual slavery.

“Sarah.” Lyric gently grasped my wrist with her oddly calloused and rough fingers. “Sarah, breathe.”

I must have worried her because she began to rub my arm briskly, almost like she was trying to warm me up.