VII - Losing Hope

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Three fucking weeks. They had moved her from the location and we haven't been able to find her. I was beginning to lose it.

I could have sworn Bones had already lost it. I heard him crying one night when Blondie was patching up his knuckles for beating the shit out of one of the Los Locos Brad had gotten a hold of. Kelsea was his only child and he lost hope.

I still hadn't... I couldn't. She was the only person in my life that I loved and probably would ever love... I was desperate.

I called the one person I didn't think I'd ever call.

"Kellers Auto and Repairs, how may I help you?" A gruff voice asked.

"This is Dia De Los Locos compound in Oklahoma, correct?" I asked, my voice drawn and tired.

"Who's asking?" His voice suddenly turned serious.

"A concerned citizen who just had his patched girlfriend kidnapped." It was silent. "I need to speak with someone at the table, because we might have an issue. I don't know which charter it was, but it's been three weeks, and we just want her back."

"I'm the VP, I'll bring it up to my Pres, see if we know anything. Is there any way we can get you up here?" I sighed.

"Not without a very pissed off and borderline-murdering father... Princess is the club's daughter." He cursed. "Look, it was a long shot calling, but... I just needed to know if anyone has seen or heard anything."

"I take it you're the concerned old man in her life... Tell you what, give me your name, I'll have Stephen call you after I speak with him. This is something that isn't taken very lightly. We know our southern charter in Dallas hasn't been on good terms, but if it was one of our own.. Hired by the southern charter... We will let you be the one to deliver justice." Still some hope left.

"Thank you." I ended the call, then went to go have a very hard chat with Bones.

He was sitting at the table, sipping a glass of whiskey.

"Bones?" He looked up. "I just made a call to the OK charter for Los Locos... They're going to look for her, see if any of the lower table members might have worked with the southern charter to do something with this." He shook his head.

"No point... It's been three weeks." That right there made me over the top furious. I snagged that glass away, throwing it against the wall.

"Your daughter is out there somewhere! It's been three weeks and you're already giving up! What kind of father are you?!" I shouted at him. "She's not dead yet! You are a selfish bastard for giving up hope!" I walked out of there, grabbing my shit off the bar counter in a rush and went to my bike. I left the cut in my saddlebag and rode.

If he wouldn't give a shit, it wouldn't stop me.



I don't know how long it's been... all I knew was that my face was swollen on my left side and I was bruised and battered. My body hurt in places that shouldn't be hurting.

In places that shouldn't be touched without permission.

The one on shift right now was asleep in the chair. I learned that he was a heavy sleeper and was armed with a silenced pistol in a holster. He was just the guard. He never laid a hand on me except to cuff me when I needed the bathroom.

I knew my stuff was in the corner but I wouldn't be able to get much on. The window was open to air out the room, but it was barred. I could actually slip through, but it would be a sort of tight fit.

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