Whiskey's Second Chance

46: Ghosts

Whiskey POV

The club worked relentlessly to find Kayla, but every lead came up short. We sent out a prospect to the Devil's Disciples. However, that proved to be as useless as we thought. They dropped a bloodied and beaten body off at our front gate, and Doc said it would be a miracle if he lived. Hawk tracked the plane from the video footage, but they rented it through a shell corporation, and the flight manifest "disappeared" and it was another dead end.

Killer and Blade worked on trying to form an open line of communication between us and Slasher, but they met every attempt with hostility and then complete silence. However, Blade spent most of his time trying to keep Ginger calm and from having a complete meltdown at every small thing. Ginger didn't want to go into labor until everyone was home, including Kayla, and wanted everyone to enjoy the birth of her baby.

I followed up with some old friends, but only one of them had something they thought might be helpful.

"So, I was asking around as you asked, and I think I might have something," they said.

It was the first time in days I could let out a breath. "I'll take whatever it is, brother."

"Well, the word is there is a group running girls from everywhere through a few specific states, one of those being Washington. From there, they are driven across the border into Canada and flown across the world to their buyers. No one gave me names, but I know the prices went up for this next shipment," he confirmed.

"Any ideas why or who any of the buys are?" I asked, hoping for something a bit more solid.

"That is kept tight-lipped, but I know they upped the price for certain women. Something about one girl being a virgin and special, but for all I know, that's hearsay."

My stomach was in my throat the longer they talked, and I could barely say thank you before hanging up. The ringing in my ears, which had subsided substantially the last few days, grew tenfold, and I gave up trying to ignore it. There is no solution for the ringing, only a handful of ways that help subsite it. But between the exhaustion and stress, nothing seemed to work.

Last night I hit my breaking point. After fighting and arguing with my brothers, I headed to my room to clear my mind. Propping up my Ruger Precision rifle on the bed, I laid out an old towel and my cleaning supplies. The routine and mundane movements help keep my mind focused on the task in front of me. Cleaning each piece, ensuring it had no dirt, greased them, and cleaned it again. I spent the next three hours in complete concentration. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have as I woke up with a start, drenched in sweat.

Since Kayla went missing, the nightmares have gotten worse; to where I could only sleep an hour at a time. They started with the loss of my brothers-in-arms, as they always do, but progressed to something far worse. I was no longer seeing my brother's faces or my enemies, but Kayla's. It's one thing to watch someone who has died die again in your dreams, but another to watch the woman you love die in unspeakable ways. But what scares me the most is not knowing if she is alive or dead.

*****

Five days after they took Kayla, we caught our first break. Between what my source said and Hawk's magic, he found a warehouse hidden deep within the Devil's Disciple's list of shell corporations. After a quick meeting with everyone, going over the blueprints and plan, we geared up and headed to the warehouse.

If Kayla isn't here...no. I refuse to think like this and go down the path of no return. She will be here. She has to be.

Everyone except Blade, who stayed behind with Ginger, drove about three hours toward the center of Washington and found our warehouse standing alone. Thankfully, the surrounding trees provided the coverage we would need for the upper hand. Killer told me to take the high ground, which I normally would, but I would not let my brothers go in there and get my girl without me.

We slowly and quietly headed to the warehouse, but something was off. There were no bikes, trucks, no sign of life, and the voice I tried to suppress told me this isn't right. Emerging from the forest, we carefully proceeded to the entrance. While Shotgun, Bear, and others rounded the back.

"We're at the door. All quiet," Bear confirmed through the coms.

Killer looked at me, and I gave him a small nod. "Go."

Vegas opened the door, and Killer went in, taking the right side while I took the left, sweeping from the left to the center. Along the wall were small rooms, if you could call it, with half-torn curtains, and I didn't want to know what they used them for, but it was hard to ignore.

I walked through rows of makeshift beds covered in ratty, thin blankets with no pillows. Half-eaten food and crumbs were scattered throughout. Piles of trash were at the end of each row, but it didn't smell half as bad as it looked.

As footsteps approached me and several of the brothers called out the all-clear.

"Clear," I breathed, lowering my gun, and looking around.

Fuck. She's not here. No one is here, and the ringing in my ear is back with a vengeance. I want to hear her voice. This was all my fault.

Hawk whistled, signaling us to the office, and we piled in. Live wires were everywhere, and monitors were smashed, except for one. A frozen image stared back at us, and all the air in my lungs vanished. Razor's hand was around Kayla's throat, forcing her to look directly at the camera. At me.

This was no accident, but the longer I stared at the picture, the more I saw an emptiness behind her eyes, as though all life had drained from her. I would do anything to bring life back to her.

"Hey," Killer said, clapping my shoulder, gaining my attention, seeing I didn't hear a word he said. "I know it seems like we have nothing, but this is the most information we've had in days, and we can work with this. Keep your head up," he said, reading his lips.

Walking back into the room, I let myself wander around, scared to find a piece of Kayla left behind. However, what I found seemed far worse than I could ever imagine. It's one thing to see war and the damage it does to a country and those within it, but another to see diapers and small children's clothes on the floor in front of me. To subject children to a life they do not understand and cannot control is crossing a line I never thought anyone could cross.

Kneeling down, I picked up a ratty, old doll that looks important to a little girl who is now missing her comfort because of us. The thought of Kayla being here made me sick, but what scared me was the fact that she wasn't here. No one was. They moved everyone because they knew we were coming.