Page 35 of Satan's Naughty List
“That’s them,” I exhale, my chest deflating from the overwhelming anxiety of trying to find her.”Any sign of her?”
“Not from what we can see,” he mutters. Clicking quickly, he manages to pull several different cameras onto the screen, flipping between them.
“I taught you well,” I admire, pride evident in my throat.
“Only the best.” Standing, I round the table and stand right in front of the screen. The location is oddly familiar, but I can’t pin-point it. Markers around the area spark something in my mind, like a switch trying to flip over and failing. Until…
“Holy shit,” I mutter, pointing to a square in the upper corner. Appa moves around the room with me, waiting for Robo to open it.
“Isn’t that the same place they kept Crusher all those years ago?” Several eyes go wide. It’s different seeing it in the broad daylight. Everyone went during the night, drove around.
“No,” Crusher states, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “That’s not it. The buildings aren’t quite the same.”
“You remember?” Nomad asks skeptically, coming to stand next to him. Crusher just nods. It’s like watching him get transported back to the worst time of his life.
“I’ve been there yearly,” he informs, his head turning over his shoulder. “It’s similar, but it’s not the same area.”
“Zoom out,” I call. Robo does as asked, and the camera is pulled away again. Again, the spark clicks without recognition. “I swear I know this place.”
“You know what?” Hudson starts, taking a closer look at the image. “That looks like the old clubhouse for Satan’s Wheels.”
I’d completely forgotten that the club had dissolved and merged with the Sinclair’s.
“You’re right,” Widower agrees, rocking Sebastian on her chest. “Why would they choose that only place? It was falling to the ground last time we were there.”
“There are cells underground, that’s why,” I state, shaking my head. “I should have guessed that, but then again, I couldn’t see anything until they dropped me.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Nomad shushes, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done.”
This is a fight he and I have wasted our time on for the past week. If my senses had been higher, better trained for it, I wouldn’t have gotten nabbed. I’d immediately assumed that it was fine, that the random girl in the bar was a member. None of the other guys who were gathered around seemed to be stirred one bit.
Gender didn’t matter since it was an unfair fight. She had the advantage of drugs on her side. Sadly, I’m the scrawny dude that fell in love with the big burly man. Most people expect me to be able to fight back. It’s nearly laughable, because I try my hardest, but I could easily be overtaken.
That was another argument that involved the whole damn club. No one thought to say something about the random chick they'd never seen before. Instead, they were more worried about getting their dicks sucked and fucked. The three guys who lingered around when I was taken seemed to have gotten the same fate as the blond imposter bartender.
Shot between the eyes.
“Enough,” he demands, tilting my chin upward. “You keep talking down about yourself, I’ll have no choice but to punish you. We don’t have time, so you better keep that in mind. Either reprimand you or find Aspen. You choose.” He doesn’t let me pull away from him, keeping our eyes level to one another. Jerking my chin out of his grip, I can’t help the pout that juts my bottom lip.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, shoving away from him. Eyes glance between us, several that are suggestive and others that are confused. “Get back to work.” They all immediately look away, smirks pulling at their faces as they all attempt to not laugh. It’s a shitty attempt, because seconds later, they’re all cackling. Sensing the overall embarrassment, my chest flames up to my ears.
“Who is going to take point?” Hudson asks, grabbing the swaddled infant from Widower. Glancing around, it seems the consensus isn’t unanimous.
“Widower?” I ask, unsure.
“I think I should,” Nomad says, a bit offended that I volunteered someone else.
“Actually,” Appa speaks up, hesitation pinching his features. “I think Crusher should.” We all glance around, Crusher even looking unsure.
“Second,” Robo pipes in. Several glares are shot in their direction. “It’s literally his job,” he explains. His shoulders remain straight and determined.
“Fine. Crusher is point. I’ll be back,” Widower huffs, taking Sebastian out with her. It’s an awkward exit and we’re all unsure what to do for a moment before a loudclapmoves us back into motion.
“We all know what to do. We ride in thirty,” Crusher commands. “Don’t wear anything too heavy but stay warm.”
Rounding up my group, we start working on gathering mics and testing them for full functioning. It went from plotting to a mad house in mere seconds.
“Tech van is ‘round back,” Appa calls, strutting inside. His face is bright red from the wind whipping in his face, and I can only hope the guys all have gators or ski masks to shield themselves from the brutal wind.
