Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(113)

"Have you spoken to the police yet?" he asked.

"No, not yet," I said, my voice regaining some semblance of control.  Talking to my father had made me feel worlds better, even if I knew he  was just saying things he didn't believe in order to make me stop  crying.

"Go. Talk to them. Any information you can give them will do a lot more  good than keeping me company," he said, his voice turning stern. I knew  that he wanted me to talk to the cops so they could find my mother  quicker, but the thought of leaving him now was impossible.

"Daddy, please, just a few more minutes," I said, silent tears brimming.  If I'd thought seeing my father cry was bad, seeing him in that bed,  with the sling around his arm, was a million times worse.

"Of course, baby," he said, reaching out to cup my chin. His eyes softened. "I didn't mean to rush you out."

"I stole a car," I suddenly blurted out. I still don't know why I chose  that particular time to come clean with that. Maybe it was just part of  an overall purging process as I tried to deal with everything that had  happened. I was amazed when Dad broke into a grin and chuckled slightly.

"Did you now?"

"Well, Boon did," I said, my eyes on the ground.

"I don't care. I mean, I do, and we're going to talk about that, but if  you had to steal a jet plane to get you safely away from that situation,  I wouldn't be mad," he said. "I'm just so happy you're safe."

"Daddy, I'm so sorry. I thought he was worth it, but he's not. He  just … he just left! You were right," I said, gaze still glued to the  floor.

"Well, maybe I was right, maybe I wasn't. It doesn't matter now. But  it's not your fault, and you can't think that it is. It's not. And I  mean … well, I'm sorry he hurt you, baby. You know I'd kill anyone who  hurt you. But he didn't … well, he's still just a kid. He might seem old  to you, but he's just a kid to me. And he's gonna regret leaving you  until the day he dies."

"I just … what are we going to do? What if something happens to Mom?" Even  as I spoke the words, I felt panic creeping back into me.

"Nothing is going to happen to Mom," Dad said, his gaze growing as stern  as his voice. "Don't you dare think that something is going to happen  to her. I promise you, the whole damn force is out there looking for  her. They're gonna find her, Sammy, and they're gonna bring her home in  one piece."         

     



 

I nodded, not believing him but happy just to hear the words in his  voice. For once, I was happy for him to be speaking so sternly to me. It  was like he was commanding me to believe him, and I wanted to obey that  command.

"But they'll find her a lot quicker if they have your testimony to help  them," he added. "I'm going to be fine, Samantha. Go talk to my men.  Tell them everything you know."

I nodded again, reaching out to grab his hand.

"Okay, Daddy. I will. I promise," I said. That, at least, would be an  easy promise to keep. I looked down at him once more, feeling my heart  ache. Then I turned quickly, knowing that if I stayed a little bit  longer they would need seven men to carry me away. He's safe. He's alive  and he's going to be okay and he's safe, I thought.

In that moment, even with everything else I didn't know, even with my  mother still missing, that one fact was enough. My father was safe.





28





Alicia, Becky, and Kevin were waiting for me as I let the door click shut behind me.

"Ready?" Kevin asked, tentative. I nodded, too choked up to speak.  Alicia and Becky flanked me again as we left the hospital. We followed  Kevin's squad car to the station, and Alicia and Becky didn't leave my  side until the absolute last moment.

"Do you want us to wait for you?"

I shook my head no. It could be hours, and they weren't exactly going to be allowed to hold my hand through the whole process.

"I'll just call you later? Can I stay at one of your houses tonight?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Alicia said, grabbing my hand. "Call us whenever.  Even just to cry. We'll come pick you up later, okay?" I nodded and let  them both wrap me in a big hug, savoring the small moment of comfort.  As they pulled away and walked out the door, I felt more alone than I'd  ever felt in my life.

"Ready, Samantha?" Kevin's voice came from behind me, softly, patient. I  turned and nodded again. I was as ready as I'd ever be. He led me to a  simple gray room with one desk in the middle; it was sterile, like the  hospital had been, but much less bright. I was thankful for that. I  didn't want to feel like I was being interrogated.

The questions were both simple and complicated: where did you meet Boon,  how did you grow close, what did he ever say about his father, what  were his friends like, where did they take you in Vegas.

When asked to describe Tank and the two other men I'd met from the Cold  Steel club, I realized that every mistake I'd made was coming back to  haunt me. I'd been too drunk and high that night to remember what anyone  looked like; if only I'd stayed sober! If only I hadn't agreed to take  that hit! I could tell them exactly who to look for.

They'd used imaging software to age the sketch they had on file for  Tank, made ten years ago when he'd last been in Missoula. But since  everyone had been wearing masks, and since changing your appearance was  really as easy as shaving, hopes were low that the sketch would yield  any results. They'd already sent it out to all the hotels and businesses  in the city, but nothing had come back.

Kevin was patient with me throughout the questioning, giving me plenty  of time to think and to, sometimes, cry. I wanted to go faster, to make  the whole process quicker so the police could get to my mother quicker,  but I realized as I spoke that I wasn't saying anything helpful. As the  questioning drew to a close, Kevin reached into a drawer under the desk  we were sitting at and pulled out my phone.

"We've already dusted this for prints, nothing but yours. We tried calling Boon on it earlier … "

"So that's who was using my phone," I said, stupidly.

"Yes ma'am," Kevin said. "His phone seems to have been turned off, otherwise we'd be tracking it."

"I thought you could track phones as long as the battery was still in them?"

"It depends on the phone. Regardless, we can't track him," Kevin said,  frustration behind his words. Good, I thought, surprising myself. I was  disappointed, heartbroken, by the way Boon had abandoned me, but I still  cared about him enough to not want anything to happen to him.

"Well, he wouldn't take you anywhere useful, anyway," I said, not wanting to tell Kevin that Boon was on his way to Mexico.

"Maybe you could leave a message, Samantha. We talked to the DA. They're  willing to drop charges if he helps us," Kevin said, leaning forward. I  could tell he'd been waiting a while to tell me this, that he was  excited by the possibility. I shook my head.

"He said he wouldn't sell his dad out," I said, my heart falling with  each word as they reminded me of the way Boon and I had parted:  bitterly, with regrets.         

     



 

"Just try," Kevin said, pushing the phone across the table towards me. I  sighed and picked it up; it was dead. For some reason, I thought that  was hilarious: some police department, can't even charge a phone.

"It's dead," I said, pushing it back. Kevin looked down in surprise, then groaned.

"Christ," he said, shoving his chair back and storming out of the room,  shouting out into the hallway: "who the fuck let the phone die?"

After a few minutes, Kevin reappeared with a charger. Plugging it into  the wall and connecting it to the phone, he handed it back to me. I  powered it on, waiting for the familiar chime that meant the phone was  ready to use.

Before I could even pull up my phonebook, I heard the chiming of my text  message alarm. The first three texts were from Becky and Alicia, from  before they'd picked me up. The last text, though, nearly made me drop  the phone onto the table.

I was wrong. I was so wrong. Forgive me. I'm going to make this right, no matter what it takes.

It was from Boon, of course. I looked at the time stamp. He'd sent it at  10, and it was just around 11. I looked up at Kevin, eyes wide.

"What is it?" he said, standing up and leaning forward, eager.

"Boon texted me," I said, showing him the phone. Kevin grabbed it from  my hand, reading the text and fairly leaping out of the room.

"We got a text, someone get on the tracker, move it, people!"

I felt so out-of-the-loop. Obviously, Kevin was hoping that Boon hadn't  turned his phone off again. But sitting there, alone in that room, I  felt like I was on the outside looking in on the mess. The minutes  stretched on and on, each one feeling like an hour. It was too quiet in  the room, too cold, too still. Finally, Kevin re-appeared, his face  grim.

"Little shit turned his phone off again," he said. "Last location we have for him is somewhere up near McCloud Ave."