Page 30 of Tess, Property of Blaze

Blaze

Storming into the clubhouse, I head straight for the bar where Trigger and Rhyder are standing, drinking beers. Loud music is blaring through speakers, the thump-thump of “One Step Closer” by Linkin Park reverberating throughout the room. I make my way to the vacant spot between Trigger and Rhyder and laugh to myself when I see Rhyder with another woman, clearly not the same one as last night.

It’s late in the evening, and the old ladies are here with their men. Charity stands beside Trigger, and I get a glimpse of Jasmine and Quill chatting by the couch. It seems even Jasmine is letting her hair down tonight as she dances erotically in front of Prez.

“Pour me a Jack, thanks, Daisy,” I say, then feel the slap of Trigger’s palm on my shoulder.

“Whoa, brother, hittin’ the hard stuff, hey? What’s going on? You and Tess not getting along? I mean, with her just up and vanishing like that….”

I turn to face Trigger and grab him by his shirt, pulling him close to my face. “Shut the fuck up, Trigger,” I growl, and Trigger smirks.

“Whoa! Shit, brother, was just pulling your chain.”

Before I can respond, I hear my name being yelled out. I turn to face Prez just as the music is turned down. I slowly let go of Trigger’s shirt then turn to face him, letting out a deep breath and flashing him a rueful smile. “Sorry, brother, I didn’t mean….”

“Hey, it’s fine, sorry I mentioned it. Don’t worry, we’re still looking out for her. Hawke’s out with Gunner right now.”

“Call them off,” I state as I swiftly grab hold of the shot glass Daisy just placed before me and skull the whole thing.

“What do you mean, call them off?” Prez is now standing behind me, and I turn to him and sigh. “She’s fine, she’s with Jeff.”

“Wait…,” Rhyder says. “Jeff, as in, Ink Me Jeff?”

“Same fuckin’ one,” I blurt out, then turn to face Daisy behind the bar and ask for another shot of Jack.

“What the fuck is she doing there? And with him? She should be home with you.”

I throw back my second shot for the night and slam the glass back on the bar. Daisy is smart enough to pour me another straightaway, and I finish that one off too. It’s only then I turn around once again, resting my elbows on the bar. Prez narrows his eyes. “What did you do to make her up and leave and not come back?”

I drop my head, exhaustion taking over, and to be honest, maybe that last shot might not have been such a great idea. With no food hitting my stomach since this morning, and no sleep, I feel out of it. “Shit, Prez, not now, okay. I haven’t slept and I’m dog-shit tired. I’m gonna go lie down for a couple of hours and then I’ll come talk to ya. In the meantime, you can call off the boys who are out looking for Tess, because she’s fine.”

Prez nods his head then steps toward me. “Okay, brother.” He gives my shoulder a tap. “But come seek me out when you’re ready, we got some talkin’ to do.”

I nod then look around the club. “Where’s Tracker?”

“He’s in his room, looking into things for me regarding the missing girl.”

I sway on my feet, the shots of Jack hitting me full-on, and Prez grabs me by my arms. “Let’s get you to bed, brother.” He throws one of his arms around my shoulders, and Trigger jumps in on my other side and does the same, holding me upright and steady as we walk down the hall to my room. Prez leans in and turns the doorknob then kicks the door open.

Last thing I remember is them pushing me down on my back on the bed, then I’m out like a light.

* * *

I wake up to knocking at my door. I roll onto my side with my eyes still closed. “Go away!” I shout, but whoever it is, they don’t stop. I open my eyes and squint at the light coming through my window—fuck, it’s morning. More like afternoon, actually, when I see it’s a few minutes after 1:00 p.m. on my clock.

More banging on the door comes from the hallway outside my room, so I sit up and swing my legs around and plant my feet on the floor. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I shout as I pad over to my door, grumbling the whole time about inconsiderate fuckers who won’t leave a guy with a splitting headache and the taste of a dead skunk in his mouth alone. Once I open the door, I’m ready to take whoever’s disturbing my hangover to the floor, but when I see it’s Tracker on the other side of the doorway, I shut my mouth and swallow hard, because the look on his face tells me he’s here to give me some bad news.

“Tracker, everything all right?”

His facial expression gives nothing away, and he’s holding some kind of document in his hand. He says, “Can we talk?”

“Sure, man, come in.” I open the door for him, and he enters then shuts it behind him. “Just give me a sec,” I say as I walk to the bathroom and wash my face, trying to wake myself up for whatever news he’s here to tell me. I quickly swish some toothpaste around in my mouth, so I don’t gross Tracker out with my skunk breath, then grab a towel from the rail and wipe my face. After one last glance in the mirror—I still look like shit but at least feel a bit more awake now—I walk back into my room, ready for whatever Tracker has for me.

Tracker is standing against a wall, his intense gaze boring into mine. “Sit down, brother,” I offer, pointing to the bed, but he shakes his head and stays where he is.

“I prefer to stand.”

“That bad?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.

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