Page 20 of Chaplain

After forcing myself out of the cocoon we shared and taking a quick shower, I throw on some leggings and an old band tee, ready to face the day. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that all the exercise from yesterday has left me famished and wishing for more of Diesel's eggs ranchero.

On my way to the kitchen, I pause outside Gabe's room. I passed out early last night, and I missed him coming in. With Luca away and my attention elsewhere, Gabe's been taking advantage by breaking curfew.

I should bust his ass for it, but I'm in too good of a mood to instigate a fight. He's a good kid most of the time, so he deserves a pass occasionally.

I make a mental note to check on him later and head to the kitchen to make coffee and toast if we still have any bread left.

By midday, I've been held up in the guest room office Luca and I share for hours. It's small with no decorations, but with Diesel's additions to our arsenal, it's jam-packed with enough gear to bring down a small country. Or a dirty biker club when needed.

I've spent hours searching databases and combing through encrypted files for a bank that suspects one of their branch managers has been skimming off the top, but I haven't found so much as a cent out of place.

It's tedious work, and my eyes are bleary from staring at spreadsheets all day. Time for a break.

I head to the kitchen to make a quick sandwich since Gabe hasn't woken up to take the last of the bread. An empty stomach is what he gets for defying house rules. With peanut butter spread thin and grape jelly, my conscience kicks in, and I knock on his door to offer him half.

But he doesn't respond.

The door is unlocked, so I do the big sisterly thing and barge in. "I hope you're dressed under there because I'm coming in."

I lift his rumpled comforter, but he isn't there. The sheets are cold.

It's not unlike Gabe to disappear for a day, but with Luca out of town, he usually sticks pretty close by just to keep me off his ass.

"Fine." I shrug to the empty room before taking a huge bite of my sandwich and pulling out my cell with my free hand. I shoot his best friend Martin a text.

Hey man, have you seen Gabe today?

I wolf down the rest of my lunch while waiting for a reply. The minutes tick by, and my phone remains silent. Martin is usually glued to his cell. The lack of response makes my stomach turn over uneasily.

I dial Gabe's number. It rings five times before going to voicemail. "Hey, it's me again," I say, trying to keep the worry out of my tone. "Give me a call when you get this. Just want to check in."

I hang up, gnawing my lip. Where could he be? Maybe his cell was stolen. I could probably call in a favor and have it tracked, but if it's dead, it will only show the last place it pinged from.

I scroll through his other friends' numbers, firing off more texts asking if anyone's seen or heard from Gabe. The radio silence in response does nothing to ease the knot in my gut.

With a frustrated huff, I turn back to my computer. Work is a welcome distraction from the anxious thoughts creeping in.But I can't ignore the quiet voice in my head whispering that something is very wrong.

As evening casts long shadows across the apartment, I cannot focus on work. My thoughts drift to Gabe's continued silence, ratcheting up my unease.

I debate texting Diesel but hesitate. He and the club are gearing up for a major confrontation with the Iron Demons. I don't want to distract him with my unsubstantiated worries about Gabe.

With a sigh, I try Luca's cell again, even though I know it's pointless while he's deep undercover finishing a job. As expected, it goes straight to voicemail. "Hey, it's me. Call me as soon as you get this. It's about Gabe."

I keep my tone light, but the knot in my gut twists tighter. After forcing down some leftover takeout for dinner, I decide to dive back into work to distract myself. But my heart's not in it. It's been too long. Gabe would have run into at least one of the friends I texted. He should be running back to me, tail tucked, and apologizing.

I'm standing at our main window that looks out over the street when my text notification dings. I grab the phone quickly and sigh with relief when Gabe's number pops up. But the text just contains an address I don't recognize and a time - 11 pm.

Confused, I type the address into GPS. It's a rundown warehouse district across town. I zoom in, about to close out of the app when familiar graffiti catches my eye. The Iron Demons' red pitchfork symbol glares back from the building's loading dock door.

My blood turns to ice. I learned about stash houses from Ronnie when I uncovered a few during my job for the Dark Angels. They are loaded with illegal or stolen goods and heavily guarded. Both Diesel and Ronnie acted like I'd hit the jackpotwhen I uncovered a few in my research. Why would Gabe be texting me an Iron Demons address at this hour? Unless…

No. Please, no. Hands shaking, I type out a reply:

Gabe?

Is this you?

Answer me!

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