Book TRK
Chapter 33 (Zero)
Chapter 33 (Zero)
Minutes tick by before the smell of familiar fumes touch my senses and the vibration of my ride is
between my legs as the sound of my engine brings music to the outside air.
I grab my handlebars and shoot to the gate which opens.
The ride through town is uneventful except for the asshole who almost caused an accident next to me This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.
by the robot.
It is closing on one when I arrive at the public pool where most of the murdered girls seem to have in
common. The place is gated and I take a slow walk to the counter and ring the silver bell that has long
past its days of silver.
“Yes, can I help you?” A small meek voice asks and I look down to see a young female sitting on the
floor with a sketch pad in her hand.
She isn't looking at me, her glass covered face is stuck on the sketch pad, and I mean face, those
glasses are fucking huge.
“Yeah, need to ask you a few questions.”
She lifts her head, drops her sketch pad carelessly on the cemented floor and stands up. Her black
knee length skirt ruffles and I slowly look at her dress code.
Her top is like five sizes too big. Her feet are bare, fuck, women only dress like this for reasons and
most of those reasons are not to be noticed.
I lift my head to look at her face hidden behind those glasses and while I could tell her that she isn't
hiding from no one I shut my mouth, reminding myself it's not my fucking problem.
“Need a list of names of the people that are regulars. Can you help.”
Her eyes are big and get a fuck load bigger when she takes me in, and I arch my brow.
I am aware of what she sees, I am a scary fucking man, much scarier to a little deer like herself.
“I, ah, I...” She huffs, as she stammers on her words and I don't hide my small smile.
“You what sweetheart?” I say.
She clears her throat, and turns her head slightly, and I see the pink streak in her hair and the tattoo
peaking from the junction of her neck.
“You a cop?” She asks.
“Does it look I am a cop.”
She shakes her head, “Noooo.”
“Yeah, I thought so, but I am trying to catch the killer, wouldn't wanna get kidnapped now would you?” I
say to her and she drops her head.
“No sir, I can get you the list.”
“Thanks, tell me about Stacy Ferns, do you know her?”
“Yes, no, well kind of.”
Her eyes remain focused on the ground and I follow them to her sketch pad that is turned upside down.
“You can pick it up.”
The girl seems to not think that is a good idea when she gives me her attention.
“Stacy is nice, most of the others tease me, but not Stacy, we go to church together, she sometimes
sits with me...” She gets quiet as the sound of a bike approaching us gets louder, followed by another.
I leave the meek mousy girl and walk to the bikes watching Knight and Mercy park their engines not far
from mine.
Knight is the first to approach me and I give him a hug.
“Came to give you a heads up, After and Beggar are on their way to the river. Beggar woke up and
insisted she goes there now, woman was on fire had a blow out with Killer when he refused.”
Mercy snorts, “Blow out my fucking ass, she was ready to attack his balls when he threatened to lock
her in his room, he wants you to watch her, meaning she's your pelican, he can't leave Hannah until
River gets back.”
“Why the fuck do I have to babysit her ass, why can't one of you do it? She can't ride with me, I'm with
Quinn.”
I say that as I turn my back, Knight's hand on my shoulder stops me.
“What now,” I glare at the brother. His angry snarl has my shackles rising already knowing I am not
going to like what he is going to say.
“Didn't look that way a month ago. If you wanna claim a woman make sure everybody knows she's
claimed, and you not walking out of a barn at eight o'clock at night smelling like another woman.”
He bumps past me and though I feel like fucking shit, I say nothing.
If it was an outsider the brothers would shut it, but this is our club, our women. He is right, I know he is
fucking right and it is just another reason why I need to take that step.
Mercy's eyes are wide, and I roll mine.
“Let's focus on finding Stacy.”
“What the fuck ever, if you hurt Beggar I'm going to gut you in your sleep,” She bumps me too.
I look to the sky for some fucking answers but I get nothing.
So I do what I fucking came to do and get my ass back to the meek girl. If I thought she was scared of
me, fuck she is terrified of Knight and I can't for the life of me think why.
The brother is shorter than me, less muscle and he is the most mellowed one of us.
“So you aren't or you won't lift up your sleeves?” I catch the end of his words and see why.
“Fucking asshole, you're scaring the girl, just ignore him he left his man pants at home,” Mercy tells her.
I am ready to send both of them out of here, but I stop when I see that Knight isn't trying to make her
uncomfortable. Brother is serious.
“Lift up your fucking sleeves or I'm going to jump over this counter and do it for you.”
Mercy makes a point of opening her mouth but one look from Knight she shuts it, seeming to have
gotten that he isn't messing around.
The meek girl takes a few steps back and true to his words Knight jumps through the counter into the
small space and slams the door closed as she barely manages to get it open.
Shutting her in, and caging her with his body, he pulls at her covered arms and lifts the off white color
shirt up, baring her skin to us.
“Fucking hell,” I hear the brother mutter.
Mercy and I both move around the small brick building and go through the door to see what Knight is
looking at.
The mousy girl's head is bent and her arm is on display as Mercy closes the door. Her arms are
covered in numbers and names.
I am clueless, but by the look of Knights face he knows whatever the fuck it means and he isn't a happy
brother.
“What the fuck is a nine doing in Kanla when there is a killer on the loose.” Knight is talking to her but
the number rings a bell.
“Wait a nine? You mean she is one of those fuckers that trained us?” Mercy voices out exactly what I
was thinking.
“Please, you have to believe me, I am not the one killing those girls.” The lady says pleading as I grab
her other hand, ignoring her scared eyes and lift the sleeves up.
“What is all the numbers?” I ask her as I touch her fragile wrist.
“Every time we train a soldier we tattoo a summary of that soldier on our skin, it is a marking, if the
soldier goes rogue it is the trainers responsibility to sort it out,” She answers without hesitation.