Page 43 of May 11

Chapter Eighteen

CORA COULDN'T SIT ANY longer. Wire and the other riders had left six hours ago. Dark had fallen. Children had gone to sleep in the bedrooms down the hall. The remaining men left behind had gone silent—even quiet conversations had stopped between them.

She let out a yawn. The simple act drained what little energy she had left.

"Are you sure you don't want to stretch out on one of the beds and at least try to relax?" asked Daisy.

Brooke added, "There are two beds in the room where Skye is sleeping. If you don't want to be alone, you could go in there with her. She's out like a rock."

She stood. "No. I'm too antsy to sit or lie down. I'll just walk around the room and stretch my legs."

Cora left Daisy and Brooke. The other women meant well, and she appreciated the company while she waited for Wire to return, but the whole situation puzzled her. She'd never been involved in attacks on another person and now a club.

She understood why they refused to call the police. Still, she wished law enforcement officers were helping them. Someone needed to keep Wire safe.

Picking up a few empty beer bottles, she carried them to the side of the room and put them in the wooden box under the counter. There was still food and drinks scattered around on the tables from before the drive-by shooting happened.

It was as if everything came to a stop as soon as the bullets broke through the front windows.

She hugged her middle and kept walking.

There were only a few overhead lights on. The dimness matched the quiet mood of the bikers left behind to watch over the clubhouse and the women and children.

The bikers' wives and girlfriends were sanctioned in a few areas within the room. While Brooke and Daisy knew most everyone, Cora was the outsider. She was thankful for her friends. They'd comforted her and kept her company as they waited for the riders to come home.

She halted before a wall adorned with photographs. Encased in a glass cabinet were the club's vest and patches, securely locked away. Her gaze fell upon the first picture, methodically studying each face. She counted at least a hundred members of Havlin, all posed in front of an unfamiliar building she had never seen before.

Unable to see the next few photos because of the lack of lighting, she moved down the wall and stopped before the ones underneath the light.

She searched for Wire in the photo, knowing he'd joined Havlin Motorcycle Club when he was a young man. Though she had no idea what he looked like when he was her age. She imagined him tall and not quite as muscular. Maybe with a thinner beard.

One of the bikers caught her attention, and she leaned closer. Her temple throbbed, making her shift a few inches to get away from the glare on the glass covering the photo.

The man looked familiar.

He was heavier than those around him. Straddling the motorcycle, he held a cigarette with his right hand by his face.

Her heart raced. There was something...

She zeroed in on his face, trying to see past the long hair, and found a cleft chin. Looking behind her to see if anyone had noticed her intense interest in the photo, she patted the front of her, looking for the pocket of her apron and then remembering she was in the clubhouse. She'd changed clothes.

Where was the picture of her brother?

She turned in a circle, going over the steps she'd taken throughout the day. After work, Wire came and got her. It was raining. She'd hung up her apron, and she'd...her wild thoughts sped up.

She was halfway back to the table when it dawned on her she'd put the photo of Jeff in her purse after work before they all ran out into the rain.

"Everything okay?" Brooke frowned. "You look pale, hon. Maybe you should sit down."

"I can't." She grabbed her purse and went back to the wall of pictures.

Clutching an old photograph of Jeff, she extended it, comparing it to the man on the motorcycle. A gasp escaped her lips as she recoiled from the wall.

"I've found him," she murmured under her breath.

Drawing nearer, she pointed at her brother in the picture, shaking her head in disbelief. Of all the places and people, she had never imagined finding him within the Havlin Motorcycle Club.

She carefully tucked the photograph back into her purse, pulled out her phone, and captured the image of her brother, an obvious member of Havlin Motorcycle Club, posing with his MC brothers.

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