Page 16 of Tusk's Fury

Clara pulls out her cell phone, and it goes straight to voicemail. I hold up the smashed phone for her to see. “It has tire tracks on it.”

Her eyes lift from the phone to me. “She intentionally ran over it?”

I shrug. “Clara, I don’t know. Maybe someone took her and made it look like she left me? All I know is we were getting along fine, and now she’s gone. Even if she thought I got back with Gina, Brittany’s the kind of woman who would give me a piece of her mind while walking out the door. Running off doesn’t fit with her personality.”

Clara looks like she’s going to throw up but forces herself to tell me the truth. “Brittany wasn’t well. She thought she might be pregnant, so I drove her to the pharmacy, and we picked up a bunch of pregnancy tests. She took them all in one fell swoop.”

My emotions are all over the place. “Brittany is having my child? That’s some shit I deserve to fucking know.”

“She told me it was a false alarm. She seemed relieved. That’s when she decided to take some time off and spend it with her family.”

My anger dies away, replaced by disappointment. I begin pacing as I shove one hand through my hair. In an exasperated voice, I ask, “Do you have any idea where her family is? Did she say anything about who she’s staying with?”

Clara shakes her head. “I probably should have asked and told her to call me so I would know she arrived safely. But I didn’t think about it. We were just so relieved that she wasn’t pregnant with your child.”

My head snaps up, and I glare at her. “What the fuck? Why were you both so happy that she wasn’t having my baby? I don’t make ugly, bratty kids or anything like that.”

“It wasn’t that. We thought you had gone back to my sister and the kids. Tusk, you have four children already. You don’t need another one gumming up the works.”

I find myself shouting uncontrollably, “Don’t fucking tell me what the hell I need! All this time, I thought you were my fucking friend, that you cared about me. I should have known better. Apples and trees, ya know?”

Tears jump into her eyes as she stares at me. “I’ve known you for years, and sometimes I don’t think I know you at all.” With that, she turns from the room and flees.

Zen, who has been sitting there quietly throughout the exchange, finally speaks. “I know you’re under tremendous stress but taking it out on Tex’s old lady was a shitty thing to do.”

I turn on Zen next. “I know we tend to categorize women according to which brother they’re with, but Clara and I have known each other for a long time—before any of you came into the picture, including Tex. She’s not just his old lady. She was my sister-in-law for years. We went to family reunions together and family vacations. She was supposed to be my friend.”

When no hint of understanding crosses his face, I say, “Just fucking forget it. No matter how many times I explain it, you won’t understand.”

“Well, we just got verification that Brittany left of her own accord. It looks like all you need to do is sit tight and wait for her to come back in a few weeks.”

“How can you be so sure she’s coming back? She donated her furniture and took all her shit.”

“Maybe she just changed her mind about that apartment. If she thinks you’re getting back with your ex-wife she might not want to be in the same complex as you. It could be that she plans to come back to the clubhouse and stay. God only knows what’s going through that woman’s mind.”

I don’t believe she just up and left me, so I tell him, “I’m just gonna have to keep looking on my own.” I barely choke out the words before storming out of his office.

Chapter 6

Brittany

I’m trying to be smart, strategic even. I have about ten grand in a checking account and thirty thousand in a savings account. However, I dropped out of sight five years ago, so all my credit and bank cards have expired. If I renew them and wait for the new cards to come in, my family will find me for sure.

I remember a conversation one of the club girls had about traveler’s checks. They used to be popular at one time, but not so much since debit cards became common. The advantage is that you can use them like cash. They’re not entirely untraceable because each one has an individual serial number, but it will take the bank a few days after I cash them to trace the location if someone were to ask. It would be a great way to access my cash while laying down a false trail.

So, bright and early the next morning, I go to my old hometown just over the Utah line and walk into one of the branch offices of my bank. It’s risky coming back here, but I’m hoping by the time anyone finds out, I’ll be long gone. Luckily, my passport is still valid, and with my California driver’s license they’re happy that my ID checks out. I pull out all the money in my savings account and have them issue traveler’s checks in small, one-thousand-dollar denominations. It’s a lot of money, but everything will cost more because I’m on the run.

I plan to head east, cashing them at every bank I pass. With any luck, they’ll think I’m heading for the East Coast. When I get close to the coast and have cashed all the traveler’s checks, I’ll double back and head to Washington State using only cash. Even if they somehow manage to pick up my trail, they’d never expect me to leave the continental United States. I’m still working on a way to make that jump without being obvious enough to track.

While I’m at the bank, I get a bit of a side-eye at the amounts I’m pulling out, but my ID checks out, so they do it without complaint. I chat with the teller about my imaginary European vacation and all the countries on my itinerary. She smiles indulgently and jokes with me about posting photos on social media for my friends and family to see. I feign interest in all the details because I’m desperate for this plan to work. My baby’s life depends on it.

I feel such relief when I walk out of the bank with a purse full of traveler’s checks. I am so used to there being roadblocks thrown in my path that this feels like a major victory in my struggle for independence. I never expected to be desperate enough to circle back around to the danger zone, and I feel a sense of relief once I’m out of Utah.

I quickly begin driving eastward, stopping to cash a traveler’s check at each bank I pass. One bank refuses, because I don’t have an account. The others just go ahead and do it, with no pushback. I also found a few shady places who would change them without ID. The commission they took was astronomical, but beggars can’t be choosers. Hundred-dollar bills slowly replace the traveler’s checks in my purse. To cash all forty grand, I would have needed to make forty stops. Around the twenty-second bank, I start getting turned down more often. I get thirty thousand before banks begin turning me down altogether. I found a few shady places that would change them without ID, the commission they took was astronomical, but beggars can’t be choosers. Eventually though, I give up as I have enough for my plan. It’s taken me two days, and I’ve had to sleep in my car because hotels require a photo ID. I’m too afraid the church will find me to chance it.

I stop at a truck stop and fill up a cooler with drinks and a bag full of snacks for my westward drive to Washington State. My nerves are a jangled mess. All I know is this money will need to sustain me for as long as possible. I’ll find a job working under the table, of course. But having this money will ensure I can get away safely, rent a little place, and make sure my baby doesn’t go without.

I bumped into a good opportunity with the Savage Legion MC five years ago. They gave me free room and board. I didn’t have to pay for anything, and one of the brothers even saw fit to buy me the used car I’m driving. It’s still in Smoke’s name. I think he forgot about it. As long as it gets me to Washington State, that’s all that matters. Staying at the clubhouse took me entirely off the radar. Not being hunted for the last five years was the closest thing to being free that I’ve known since my life took a horrible wrong turn.

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