All That Matters (31 page)

Chapter Seventeen

The washers were filled with jewelry packed into small velvet bags tucked into larger bags. All of it was stolen, all were exceptionally valuable, according to Anzaldi, but too recognizable to be broken down close to where they were taken. He got them cheap, he said with a grin. They could take something each as a token of his appreciation for their good and hard work.

The man might have said all the right things, but it didn't relax Train any. He didn't bother grabbing a bag of jewelry, he just wanted to get the fuck out of there before he said or did something to ruin the calm. There was something off with this situation, but he couldn't see what. Try as he might, his mind was still clouded by the shit with Meg.

He shouldn't have taken her call while they were waiting for Anzaldi to show, but he had. By the time that he hung the phone up, everyone was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. He'd snarled for them to mind their own business, and Buster had demanded that he focus. So here he was, focused.

It was a relief when the meeting was finally over. Train walked directly over to Ace, whom he'd ridden with. “I need you to take me to get my truck.”

“Not sure that's the best idea, Train.”

“I need my truck, now.” There was menace in his voice, but to Ace's credit, he didn't back down. “Just the truck. Fuck that bitch. I'll give you the key and you can go inside and get the keys if you're so worried about her.”

“I'm worried about you, Train. I don't want you doing anything that you're going to regret,” Ace answered. “Come on, let's go. If you want, you can crash at my place tonight instead of the clubhouse.”

“I'm looking forward to it, actually,” Train replied. “You notice that new girl who was with Claire last week? The redhead with the nipple ring? I'm thinking that she's going to be a lot of fun tonight.” He ignored the look that Ace gave him.

“You were ready to mark Meg.” Ace waited until they were in the truck and on the road to bring up the subject, probably because Train couldn't avoid him while they were speeding down the highway. “And now, you're just ready to walk away from her?”

“She lied to me. She lied about everything.”

“Maybe you could have asked her why she didn't tell you. I'm just saying, I'm sure that she had her reasons.”

“If I wanted advice, I'd ask for it.” Train leaned back against seat and shut his eyes. “Wake me when we get back to the truck. I'm tired.”

<#<#<#<#

The redhead was named Chastity, a name that Train would have rolled his eyes at a week ago, but now he watched with interest as undid his belt. She was naked, her tits were fake but they were nice fakes, her waist was small and she had a huge swirl as a tramp stamp.

His phone rang, he reached in his pocket and saw that he didn't know the number. “Yeah?” He answered and motioned for her to keep going.

“Train! Where's Meg? She's not answering her phone. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I'll be better. Please, tell her to come and get me.” Leo was just about sobbing. Train had never heard the boy so scared.

The panic in the boy's voice had Train pushing Charity back. He shook his head and pointed to the door. She pouted, and he repeated the motion as he fastened his belt. “Calm down, kiddo. Where are you? I'll come get you.”

“I don't know where I am. I'm with my mother.”

“What? Meg gave you to your mother?” Panic flared inside of Train. “Why would she do that?” He zipped his jeans and fixed his belt.

“She didn't! We went to court and the judge said that I should be with her so they made me go with her. I took her phone. Where's Meg? I want to talk to Meg.”

“I'm not with her right now, kiddo,” Train replied.

“I want Meg. I want Meg.” Leo's voice shook with sobs; Train felt them like a knife into his heart.

“Easy, kiddo. I'm going to her right now. Can you stay on the phone with me?” He didn't know what was going on but realized that this had to be what Meg had been trying to tell him yesterday. He'd stopped her from telling him anything, told her what he wanted to tell her and hung up.

“I don't know. Roxie is in the bathroom taking a shower. She told me I can't use her phone.” Again the boy began to cry. “She's going to be mad when she finds out! I want Meg. I want Meg.”

Fuck. Fuck. “Listen to me, Leo. You're smart. I need you to be smart right now. I need you to talk to me. Did you leave in a car or truck with Roxie?”

“We took a car to the airport and then a plane. Oh no, here she comes. Please find me. Please.”

“Jesus Christ,” Train shoved the phone back in his pocket, took the stairs down to the first floor two at a time. He nearly ran straight into Monroe. “You still got that friend in child services?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I just talked to Leo, he says that the court took custody away from Meg. Find out what happened, now.”

“Where are you going?” Monroe asked as if it wasn't completely obvious.

“Where do you think?”

“Alone? Wait, I'll go with you.”

“I told you already, stay out of shit between me and Meg. Make the call and get me on my phone.” Train headed for the door. He heard someone call out to him, but he didn't stop. It was only once he was in the truck and on the way to the house that he really realized he was doing the opposite of what he'd planned to do when it came to Meg. He told himself, countless times, that he was done with her because she'd lied, yet here he was.

Fresh anger rolled through him just at the thought of the videos. How the fuck could she have kept that from him? The closer he got to the house, the more impatient he became. Once he was on the porch, he realized that he'd given the house keys to Ace when he'd picked up the truck. Fuck. There were no lights on; he didn't bother to knock.

He'd smoked a joint in the living room a few days before so he'd had a window open, and he wasn't sure that he'd locked it. Train stepped over to the window, tried it and looked inside to see Meg on the couch. He banged his fist against the window; the glass cracked from the force, but she didn't even budge. From where he was, he couldn't see if she was breathing. Something deep inside him told him that she wasn't. History was repeating itself.

“You bitch. You better fucking not have.” Train slammed his hand against the glass again. It shattered. Sheer rage took him back onto the porch. He kicked the door twice, it flew open. “Meg!” Train heard panic in his voice as he reached the living room. There was a nearly empty bottle of Jack on the floor; it was impossible to tell how much she'd drunk and how much had spilled on the floor. The liquor bottle didn't bother him as much as the pill bottle did.

He grabbed her wrist, glad to see that it was whole. For a horrible moment he'd wondered if the dark couch had hid the blood. There was a pulse, it was weak and sporadic, but it was there. “Meg!” Train went to smack her enough to rouse her but dropped his hand at the sight of her face. “Jesus Christ.” Someone had already kicked her ass. She had a black eye, split lip and her cheek was swollen in a way that suggested it was at least badly bruised.

“Train!” Ace's voice called out from the porch. “Why is the door broken down? Train?”

“In the living room,” Train called out. “Get in here, now. I need Maggie or Jillian or someone. Now! She took pills and she's hurt. She's hurt. Someone beat her.” Train's mind began to race. There was only one person in the world who would want to hurt Meg: Josh. He was going to find that fucker and tear him to pieces.

“Go and get me a container of salt and some water. If we can get her to drink it, it'll bring up some of what's in her system.” Ace took over the situation. Train was glad for it. He found salt, water and the bucket that Meg used to mop the floors in the kitchen. “Jillian's on her way. Maggie's out of town.” Ace told him as he returned.

“Tell me what to do.” Train set everything down on the table. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Help me sit her up.”

Under normal circumstances, Train was great under pressure. These circumstances, however, were as far from normal as they could get. He gained additional respect for Ace because he knew the man had sat at Jillian's side after she'd been so horribly abused; he'd helped get her treated. All Train could do was hold his hand on her back as the salt water mixture Ace had poured down her throat made her vomit forcefully.

“Come on, Meg. Open up your eyes. Look at me.” Ace snapped his fingers in her face. There was no response. “Meg. Meg. Come on, Meg. We need to get her in the shower. Cold water. As cold as we can get.”

“Sure, if you want to throw her into shock.” Jillian's voice startled them. “Now I see why you kicked in the door. She's thrown up, that's good.” Jillian set a large purse down on the coffee table, took out a small glass vial. “Smelling salts. Let's see if these do anything.” The scent was apparently enough to make Meg throw up again, but this time she groaned. “Meg, it's Jillian, Sweetie. We're going to get you up to the shower. Ace, can you take her? I want to talk to Train.”

Train didn't know what they had to talk about; they weren't exactly friends. He watched Ace lift Meg gently and start for the stairs. “What's on your mind, Jillian?”

“Did you do this to her?” Jillian asked.

“What?” Train was sure he hadn't heard her right.

“She's had the shit beat out of her. Are you the one who did it?” Her voice was more forceful, which was completely unlike her.

“No. Fuck no. Fuck you for asking me that.” Train went to move past her, but she stepped in his path. It was only then that he remembered what would make her take this so much to heart. Jillian had been a victim of The Wild Cards, and a man who claimed to love her.

“Find whoever hurt her, make sure that they pay for this no matter how you feel about her now.” Jillian stepped aside, even though he suspected that she had more to say. “Before we go up, I need to see what she took. Do you know how many pills were in the bottle to start?”

“Probably about eighteen,” Train guessed. “There were twenty-five when Maggie gave them to me; I took a few doses.”

Jillian spilled the pills out in her hand, counted them. “There's nine here. If she'd taken all of them, you'd be burying her. Still might, I don't like that she's not waking up yet.”

“Are you saying that she's going to die?”

“I'm saying it's possible,” she replied. “Why don't you take a minute? I'm going to go up and get her in the shower.”

“I don't need a minute,” Train replied. He knew that once she realized she'd been stripped down in front of Jillian and Ace, she'd be embarrassed. He also hoped like hell that she was at least wearing panties and a bra. It turned out she was. They'd just gotten her in the shower when Train's phone rang. “What?”

“I've got the information that you wanted. Yesterday, Roxanne Lewis was awarded full custody of her sons during an emergency custody hearing. She had an affidavit from Josh, he relinquished all of his parental rights. Meg didn't attend the hearing; she was in jail,” Monroe cleared his throat. “I double-checked that part, it's true.”

“She was in jail? What charges?” Train wondered if he'd suddenly veered into some alternate universe. Meg in jail wasn't something that he could see.

“Assaulting the social worker, one Nancy Firestone. The charges were dropped this morning.”

“That's Leo's caseworker,” Train replied. “Did the cops drop the charges or did she?”

“She did,” Monroe told him. “There's something about the social worker that isn't right. My guy says that she's driving a new car and has been flashing around money like she never has before. I'm going to get Bones to dig into her, if that's cool with you.”

“Do that. When you're done, why don't you see if you can go and hunt up Josh?”

“You going to tell me what's going on, Train? How's Meg?”

“Half-dead,” Train replied. “Not by my hand. Someone beat Meg tonight, beat her badly. I think it was Josh. You know what needs to happen now. Find him.”