“Can you track my phone?” I asked immediately.
“Tracking has already been disabled,” Donnelly disagreed. “I had Hank on it almost immediately. Last known location was about half a block that way.” He pointed in the direction. “From there, it looks like she did her thing and left.”
I sighed. “I hate getting new phones.”
On top of everything I would have to do now, that was just the last straw.
“I want to go home.”
Easton didn’t waste time getting me there.
Donnelly followed.
Soon after, the entire MC was there, including the old ladies of the MC members.
They planned the funeral for me.
Meanwhile, I took a nap on Easton’s shoulder, then slid further onto his lap, until such time as the world slipped away, and Sareen wasn’t there to torture Easton anymore.
CHAPTER 21
Fucking fuck.
-Easton’s secret thoughts
EASTON
It took me a week to find her.
And in that week, we’d planned a funeral and attended it.
With nearly the entire population of Intercourse attending.
Apparently, the death of the bar owner in a small town was enough for everyone and anyone to know you.
The funeral was short and sweet, and by the time the service was done, I’d fallen a little bit in love with Salem, too.
It took Salem about twelve hours to arrive from where she was at in a rainforest in Rio.
When she arrived, she had dreadlocks in her hair, a brand-new tattoo brightening up her arm, and a scowl on her face directed pointedly at Mirabel.
Mirabel, who was playing the part perfectly of the grieving employee. Not the grieving almost-daughter.
Of course, the moment we walked into the church, Mirabel was there, acting as hostess, and greeting anyone who cared to stop in front of her.
We’d been one of the lasts to arrive because Banger hadn’t wanted to play hostess. Which was understandable, given that she was grieving.
What we hadn’t expected was for Salem to roll up on her motorcycle at nearly the same time as we did.
But it was my shock, upon seeing those long, flowing dreads flying in the breeze, that had me blurting out, “Holy shit!” the moment we parked the bike.
“Yeah, my sister is something else.” Banger snickered. “We all grew up here. Salem was actually good friends with Cannel’s husband, Will, when they were growing up. One could say best friends.”
I looked over at Salem as she swung her leg over the bike, then watched some more as she shook the hair loose from its helmet-state, and then started heading directly for us.
It was as I was watching her that I knew the moment she spotted Mirabel.
Mirabel who was crying with her crocodile tears, telling anyone that would listen that she had no job to return to.
Salem stopped in her rush toward us, turned on a dime, and decked Mirabel straight in the face.
“He’s not my father,” Salem corrected. “And why the fuck are you even here?”
“Salem Moroo,” their mother hissed.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m your child,” Salem corrected her. “And it isn’t Salem Moroo anymore. It’s Salem Darkbringer.”
At first, I wondered if she was joking. That’s why the smile was on my lips.
But then I realized she was one hundred percent truthful with her words, and that ‘Darkbringer’ was causing their mother to freak out.