Page 66 of The Vows We Keep
When we pull up at the address, I’ve got a headache, and I’m confused as fuck. Bates said to tap into my feelings. And I’m pissed off and happy and sad and frustrated and fuck knows how many other things.
The house has seen better days. A single story with reddish-brown siding. The porch is sagging, held up by four posts in various stages of rot. There are papers and flyers and unopened newspapers scattered over it. A wire fence sits around the perimeter. Nobody has lived here in a while, that much is clear.
“This is going to be a dead end, isn’t it?” Catalina says.
I squeeze her hand. “No. Just makes it easier to break in. It’s not like we’re expecting anyone to be home either. We know Lobo is dead and buried in the Pines.”
Bates returns from his quick ride around the block of the property and parks next to where we’re standing. “Nothing around back. Looks as neglected all the way around. You want to go inside, I’ll keep watch. Revving my bike is your sign you got company.”
“Ready?” I ask Cat.
“Let’s do it.” We walk up to the porch, and she looks in the mailbox and under planters as I press my face to the window. Someone was obviously in the middle of renovating but appears to have given up. The place is lived in. There’s a coffee cup on a work bench in the middle of the room. Channels are ripped out in the plasterboard; wires hang capped and loose from the ceiling. But there’s a sofa covered in clear plastic.
“Find anything?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Okay, stand back, I’m gonna kick the door in.”
Cat puts her hand to my chest as I move to do as I say. “While I love the whole visual of you chambering a kick to put that lock out, can we use a little more finesse?”
“What do you suggest?”
She pulls a little leather case out of her inside pocket. And in less time than it would take me to kick the shit out of the frame, Catalina has broken in.
“That was hot, not gonna lie.”
The smile she gives me is genuine. It warms me inside. I hope what happened this morning, when I pressured her to stay with me again, isn’t unfixable.
“Let’s go,” she says, but this time, I hold her back.
“I’m going in first.”
She rolls her eyes and then gestures for me to do so. I push the door open slowly. Just because the place looks empty, doesn’t mean it is. The musty, damp smell is the first thing to hit me. Catalina follows, holding one of the weapons Spark gave me before I left. I give her a hand signal to stay behind me.
Catalina nods.
The hallway is painted a nasty lavender on every wall, including the ceiling. The floor is pine with layers of varnish that’s now chipped and peeling. There’s a room to my right that’s empty, also painted in the same vile color. To my right is the room that’s being rewired. The kitchen is a masterpiece. Whoever was flipping this house is a very capable craftsman.
The first bedroom is beautiful too. A large bed with brown-and-cream bedding dominates the space.
“This is nice,” Cat whispers, and I nod in agreement.
Clothes are hung tidily in the closet. It’s definitely the room of a Los Reyes club member as there is an array of riding gear with their patch on it.
I check the closet and the other side of the bed to ensure we don’t get any surprises.
The bathroom is half-finished. The bathtub is brand new, the area around it untiled. The toilet is old, and the floors stripped back to bare wood. There’s a Los Reyes flag tacked to the wall.
“There’s no one here,” Cat says. “They would have shown themselves by now, not hidden away.”
I put my finger to my lips. She may be right, but I’m not chancing it. Not with her ass on the line. The door to the last and final door is closed tightly. It’s different than the other rooms in the house, which were all left wide open. I gesture to Catalina to stand to the left of the opening while I take the right.
Gingerly, I turn the doorknob, which creaks as I open the door. With a nudge, I push it open.
And nothing happens.
I had been so sure that if anyone were hiding from us in this house, they would have been here.
