Whiskey's Second Chance

48: Consequences

Whiskey POV

Sitting in my room, I stared at the laptop in front of me, with the image of Kayla and Razor. Trying to figure out who the third person was in the image. The figure seemed familiar, especially in the body type, but I didn't know for sure. It doesn't help that I haven't slept since we found the empty warehouse and I was seeing things that weren't there.

Killer assured me we had information that could give us some answers, but so far we came up with nothing, only frustrating me more. I hadn't given up on finding Kayla; however, I gave up on everything else. Papers, records, files, and clothes were strewn across my bedroom floor and bed. Nothing was in its place and I could feel my old self slowly slip back into place.

A knock on my door told me it was time for a meeting, and I begrudgingly got up and went downstairs. All the brothers gathered in the meeting room, looking as exhausted as I felt. Killer stood at the head of the table, gaining everyone's attention.

We all waited for him to talk, but it was Hawk who spoke up. "I pulled some data from the warehouse computer and found a long list of locations I think they use. Now, over the last few days, I have narrowed the list down from thousands to a few hundred," he confirmed. I groaned, knowing it would take us months, or even a year, to track down each place, if we did nothing else.

"Now, I know it's not possible to go through each one, so I created an algorithm to track which locations-"

"Hawk," Killer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Right. Basically, there's fifty spots they could keep her."

The small amount of hope I had quickly disappeared, knowing we didn't have the time or resources to check all of those before Kayla disappeared forever. I got up and left the meeting, not caring if we were done or not; I was. Grabbing a bottle of bourbon, I headed back to my room, slamming the door shut.

Twisting the cap off, I threw it amongst the other trash and guzzled a fourth of the bottle down before coming up for air. The spiced liquid burned as it went down, and the warming sensation reminded me why I love to drink.

Looking around my room, I don't know how I got to this point, but I didn't mind it. The chaos represented my life, both in the past and current state. I continued to drink and stumble about my room as I looked for bits of myself or Kayla, and when I couldn't find any, I sat on the floor, finishing the bottle.

Memories of coming home from the Army flooded my mind and the old me slowly took over. When I got home, alcohol became my escape, as it does for most military personnel who have gone through a war. My PTSD caused me to turn to a bottle more than people and as a result, I ended up in several situations I couldn't get out of alone. Hence why I joined the Phoenix Riders.

Sitting here alone in my room with a bottle, the self destruction seemed like an easier way out than accepting the reality in front of me. The ringing in my ears ceased and noises became muddled and the quiet consumed my mind and hearing. Closing my eyes, I pictured Kayla with me a week prior on the beach, smiling and laughing as if nothing wrong could happen. Her smile and laughter were perfect; she is perfect.

I passed out a few hours later, thinking of Kayla, only to wake sweating and screaming out her name. The ringing in my ear came back full force, and I didn't hear footsteps racing toward my room. Looking over my shoulder, Killer and Shotgun stood half asleep and dressed, with worried faces. Rolling my head back onto the edge of the bed, I tried to regain my breathing.

Shotgun said something to Killer, but I couldn't hear, and he left. Killer stood in front of me and held out his hand to help me up off the floor, which my ass had molded to. Standing, I let out a groan and Killer slapped my back.

"Glad to see you're alive, brother. I suggest you shower and sober up if you want to be of any use to us these next few days. Also, for the love of god, clean your room. It fucking stinks," he commented, scrunching up his nose. Looking around, he wasn't wrong, and I knew I needed to get my shit together.

Several painstakingly long hours later, I headed downstairs to find a very empty clubhouse. Checking the clock, it was 3:30 in the afternoon and usually everyone was up by now. Did I really sleep through a clubhouse party? I was only asleep for a few hours.

Walking to the kitchen, I caught a whiff of the open bottles of alcohol and lurched whatever was in my stomach into the empty trashcan. Last night was the first time in a while I drank anything stronger than beer and a few shots. Binge drinking has always been my vice, but Killer and other brothers worked with me to overcome it.

Despite throwing up, I made food for my hangover, knowing I needed something in my stomach besides the alcohol. Grabbing my plate of food, I found Ginger and Blade snuggled up on the couch together. I took a seat in one armchair, joining them.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, shoveling food into my mouth.

Ginger and Blade exchanged looks before he answered me. "Out on a run."

I slowly nodded, understanding their hesitancy to tell me. Everyone knows I hate to be left out of the loop, or behind, when it comes to going on runs. Going on a run allows me to focus on precision and someone other than myself.

"When did they leave?"

"A few hours ago," Ginger confirmed.

They were hiding something, and I was getting irritated. "My head is already pounding and I still can't hear out of my ear yet, so how about you tell me what I want to know," I pointedly said towards Blade. I don't blame Ginger, but Blade knows better than to play me.

Blade let out a sigh. "They got some information last night and had to act fast on it. You were still passed out, so they left without you. If you weren't blasted out of your goddamn mind, you would be with them instead of here with us," he informed me.

I looked down at my empty plate, knowing he was right, and I wished he wasn't.

"We were worried," Ginger piped up. "You haven't drunk like that in a long time, or slept that long," said Ginger, who picked at her shirt, afraid of my reaction, but she had every right to call me out on my shit.

"I know, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again...I hope. How long was I out for this time?" I asked.

"About 18 hours," Blade confirmed.

Jesus...not even last time I was out that long. No wonder everyone was worried and didn't want me to go with them.

After a few minutes, I headed to the kitchen to wash my plate, and I heard Blade's phone ring and talk to someone. When I came back out, he was waiting for me.

"We need to go," he growled, and headed outside.

I followed Blade for an hour before we stopped. Kicking my bike stand down, I headed straight to the semi-truck to help the others with the cleanup or transportation. Our first step is to make sure we move the women and children to a safe location, in case they hit us while helping them. However, they were still here, which is why Blade and I were called.

Several brothers gathered around the back of the truck but backed away when I approached. I looked inside and all the air was sucked out of my lungs.

Kayla.