Page 60 of Trip

“No,” the man grumbled while he poured copious amounts of sugar into his coffee. Frank quickly left out the back door, and Scribe turned around and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna ground that little shit until he’s fifty!” King snapped, shaking his head. “One day. I just want one fucking day without Carnage wreaking havoc.”

“He’s probably trying to build a rocket in the greenhouse,” Enigma said dryly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Or maybe he’s decided to have a philosophical debate with the tomatoes. That is, if Scribe is actually growing anything in the greenhouse.”

“Speaking of which.” King faced Scribe. “Are you ready to come clean about the big mystery in the greenhouse?”

Scribe smirked. “Almost, but not quite yet.”

King growled, “Well, get there, fast.”

Frank returned a few minutes later, shaking his head. “Greenhouse is locked up tight, and no one is at the Manly Club. Can’t find my little buddy anywhere.”

King slammed his hand on the counter, making Scribe flinch slightly. “Where else could he be? He’s not exactly subtle when he’s up to something. Enigma and Banks, go call your wives. Have them ask the other brats when they last saw Cameron. The rest of you, fan out. I want the entire grounds and clubhouse searched.”

“Hello to the house!” a familiar voice shouted when we entered the main room and found Savage and Whiskey from the Golden Skulls standing in our clubhouse.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” King asked as I walked over to shake Whiskey’s hand.

“How ya been, man?” I greeted.

“Been better.” Whiskey grinned. “Sure am glad to see you up and walking around. You wouldn’t happen to know why Ansel would be calling me, would ya?”

I shook my head as King asked, “How the hell do you know Ansel Edwards?”

“Was a driver back in the day, only I never got my chance ’cause I got called home. Figured I’d lost my shot, so I never went back.”

“Chase!” the man himself sauntered in all smiles, greeting Whiskey. “Damn, man, you’ve gotten bigger. Have you met C.C. yet? Man, she drives like a bat out of hell. Trip, go get C.C.”

“She’s not here,” I said, looking at the man as his brow furrowed.

“What do you mean? I specifically told her we were heading over to Clay County today. I called Russ Deacon. You remember him, right? He was on your dad’s old crew. Well, he’s got access to a track we can use. C.C. was gonna go with me to check it out.”

“She wouldn’t miss this meeting, King,” I stated, then turned to Banks. “You said she left early this morning. All the club vehicles have trackers in them. What vehicle did she take?”

Banks smirked. “Your Shelby.”

“Great,” Gunner groaned. “The one vehicle we can’t track.”

King’s jaw tightened as he processed the information. “So, she was supposed to be here, but she’s not. That’s just fucking fantastic.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, masking the concern brewing beneath the surface. “We can add her to the missing list.”

“What? Who else is missing?” Savage asked.

“Cameron,” everyone groaned at once.

Ansel frowned, exchanging an uneasy glance with me. “She wouldn’t just disappear, Trip. You know that. C.C.’s whole life is about the circuit. If she said she’d be here, she’d show up.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I muttered, “I know.” Looking at King, I sighed. “Something isn’t right here, Prez. First Cameron and now C.C. That’s not a coincidence, and you know it.”

“Could they be together?” Skylar asked, reaching for Pyro’s hand.

King paused for a moment as he considered the situation. “We need to split up and start checking everywhere. Pyro, you and Skylar head home in case Cameron shows up there. Gunner, check the garage, then head to Beth’s coffee shop. No way in hell would Cameron go to town without getting his chocolate chip muffin. Scribe and Enigma, you two hit up the Tavern and the Bowling Alley. Priest, call Phoebe and have her swing by and get Bailey. Have them check out Sugar’s store. The rest of you, check all of Cameron’s usual haunts. Frank, call Josie and have her check the ski lodge, then call George and have him and Claudia be on the lookout.”

“I’ll call Martha Cohen,” Sarah, Gunner’s wife, offered, reaching for her phone.

“Trip, you’re with me. We’re gonna go see Mike at the station.” King turned to the group, his gaze sharp and commanding. “Nobody goes anywhere alone. Keep your phones on and check in every thirty minutes. If you see anything—anything at all—you call. Clear?”

A chorus of affirmations rippled through the group. The tension was palpable, an unease settling over everyone like a heavy fog. As we dispersed, I couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in my gut. Something was definitely wrong, and it wasn’t just the fact that both C.C. and Cameron were missing.

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