Page 62 of Sweet Anarchy

"It should be fine," I answer casually. "I shouldn't be too long. Bill knows we have plans."

I go to walk past him to head back downstairs but he grabs the top of my arm.

"Are you okay?"

I grin at him. "I'm fine, brother. Don't stress."

I give him a pat on the shoulder and continue on, ignoring the hurt. I know she didn't mean it, but it pains me to see her so upset. Life keeps shitting on all of us and it was only a matter of time before it all bubbled to the surface.

Blake probably assumes I'm upset with Rylee, but I'm not. I see past the words – they are empty and meaningless. The truth is written in her eyes, the pain and agony ripping her apart slowly from the inside out.

We just need to take it day by day. It will get better.

I want to go to her and comfort her, but I know she needs time to process everything. For now, I'll stay focused on other things.

Bill asked to meet so we can go over any new findings and reports. I volunteered, wanting to give Blake a break from it all. He's slowly being pulled back into rank, something neither of us want. So, I'm taking some of the burden. We didn't fight our way out of duties, just to have to step back in because of some assholes on bikes.

I get up early the next morning, throwing my suit in the Jeep in case I don't get home in time to change. I've given myself plenty of time to get to the funeral but I'm not going to take any chances. It's the one day where everything needs to go right.

I need to swing by the cabin first to collect something before I meet Bill. I bought Rylee a gift a few weeks back and I've been waiting for the right time to give it to her. I decided since she spends a lot of time in my bedroom, it would be better to hide it in the cabin for now. I'm glad she didn't find out during our last trip to the cabin, which was part of the reason I took her outside to play.

It's a good day to give it to her. She needs something to brighten up her day.

I blast some rock music through the speaker of the Jeep, putting my sunglasses on as I cruise towards the cabin. As I pass Wheels, I glance over at it, the outside walls still covered in bullet holes. I swear I see the bar door open slightly, but I'm driving too fast to check again.

I make a note to slow down on the way back. I'm sure it was barricaded up. Bill mentioned everything was boarded up with wooden panels to keep it secure until the owners decided what to do with the place.

I'm pretty sure a place like that wouldn't be insured. As far as I know, some old retired bikers own it but they don't live around here anymore. They were just letting it run, employing a few people to take care of it for them. Now that it's useless, they probably can't give two fucks about it.

I whistle as I trot up the steps of the cabin, quickly heading in to fetch the box from under the couch. I inspect it quickly before tucking it inside my pocket and head back to the Jeep.

Still plenty of time to get to Bill then head out to the mountains to the funeral. At least Rylee has the others with her so she's not alone.

As I head back towards Wheels, I slow down to get a good look at the place. Bill was right – it was barricaded. Except, the wooden boards have been placed against the side of the building, the door ajar.

There's no bikes or cars in the parking lot, so I pull in. I'll just take a quick look to see what's happened. Bill will want to know if anyone has been lurking around.

It's likely it's just some teens using the abandoned place for a hangout, or perhaps some people shooting themselves up for a quick fix. Either way, best to be on the safe side.

My boots crunch the gravel as I head out of the Jeep and head towards the bar. I stop outside the door, pushing it open slightly to just pop my head in.

It's not a pretty sight, and I curse whoever has been using it for their benefit. I also feel pity for them. You would have to be desperate to want a quiet space when it looks like this.

Tables, chairs and booths are knocked over everywhere – broken into pieces with shards of wood and glass covering the floor. There's still white chalk markings on the ground where police marked bodies and evidence, as well as dark red stains from all the blood spilled.

It's empty, and I can't see any discarded needles or booze bottles so I go to leave when I hear something fall over from inside. Pausing, I listen closely, realizing it's coming from one of the back rooms.

Probably an animal, I decide, figuring it's best not to go inside.

I get ready to leave when I spot something shiny poking out from the back of the building. It's barely visible, but it's obvious.

Walking towards the back of the building, I glance at the motorcycle as it comes into view. I don't recognize it, but I find it strange that there's still a bike lingering around. I assumed the police would have taken any leftover bikes and vehicles into evidence if they weren't claimed.

I frown as I look at the bike. Considering the time that has passed from the shooting, the bike looks like it has been recently washed.

The sound of gravel crunching behind me catches my attention, and I swing around quickly to check who it is.

Unfortunately, I'm too slow. Pain shoots through my head as a glass bottle gets smashed over my head, sending me to the ground.

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