Right, Mason. I need to find my phone. I search my pocket. “Swore it was there . . .”
I race out to the living room, the back patio, and even pull all the cushions off the couch, but it’s gone. Nowhere to be found.
What the fuck? Where is it?
I find my charger in the kitchen and head back to my room. Sitting on my dresser is my phone with a slip of paper beneath it. Scrawled in barely legible writing is Car will pick you up at nine. Dress fuckable.
Charming. I shake my head and go to read whatever is on my phone that got Hatch’s hackles up. Dead battery. I move to the kitchen, plug in my phone, and wait for it to get enough juice to power up.
No new texts. Hm . . . then what the hell did Hatch mean?
I hit Mason’s contact.
It rings and I check the clock. It’s almost noon. I’m sure he’s working. His voicemail picks up, and I close my eyes, allowing the sound of his recorded voice to soothe my racing heart and aching head.
Beeeeeeep!
“Hey, Mase, it’s me. Sorry I didn’t text you last night, but . . . he’s back.” My lips pinch together, almost as if I’m waiting for him to get angry, even knowing this is a one-sided conversation. “Don’t worry. I’m still only yours.” God, I want to see him. Fall into his arms until I feel better. But I can’t. I’m too close now. “I love you.”
I end the call and then move back to the bathroom to take a shower. I have to be to work by six. I have only nine hours to revamp my plan to get information. Getting him drunk and talking isn’t working, but maybe the right combination of biker buddies and a whole hell of a lot of booze will do the trick. I’ll try just about anything at this point because I’m ready get what I need and go back to Mason.
Mason
The sun is almost down by the time I head out of the training center for home. I think Rex and I set a damn record for longest sparring session. Usually I don’t train this hard on Saturday, but with Trix tied up and my brother and Jessica taking up most of my place, I need to be gone and keep myself busy.
I drove by Zeus’s last night around seven and saw her car in the lot. It was near torture knowing that she was just inside, separated from me by a wall of brick and mortar while men, possibly even this Hatchet guy, were in there enjoying my woman’s body. I could’ve put a hole through my damn dashboard, but, instead, drove up to our spot in the mountains and lay in the bed of my truck, thinking about her.
When it was quiet and I was left to nothing except my own thoughts and the infinite stars, I prayed. I’ve never been a religious guy, but Trix is rubbing off on me. Either that or I’m desperate with nowhere else to turn. Hell, I’d do anything if it keeps her safe. Including praying to a God I’m only now starting to believe in.
I pull out my phone to call Drake, but notice I have one new voicemail. How the fuck did I miss that?
I freeze in the parking lot, halfway to my car, when I hear her voice.
“He’s back. Don’t worry. I’m still only yours. I love you.”
“Fuck!” I speed walk to my truck, throw my shit in the back, and peel out of the lot toward her house. Deep inside, I know I could be fucking up all her plans, but hearing those three words lights a fire in my chest. I need to touch her, to lay my hands on her, feel her warm skin and her beating heart behind her ribs to know she’s okay.
It doesn’t take long before I’m parked in her driveway next to a gray Smart car in the driveway. Not what I’d expect a guy named Hatchet to drive, so I jog to the door and pound hard.
The door swings open to reveal a smaller brunette. She’s dressed in conservative pants and a professional-looking button-up collared shirt, untucked. “Can I help you?”
A man comes up behind her. He’s average height, dressed similarly, with glasses and a frown. “Kim, you know this guy?” He glares at me.
“I’m looking for Trix. Is she here?”
Her eyes narrow. “And who’re you?”
My chest warms at how protective Trix’s roommate seems to be. “I’m her boyfriend.” It’s bold, but fuck it. It’s the truth.
The brunette, Kim, shakes her head. “No, she’s not. I’m pretty sure she’s at work, but I don’t know. We don’t cross paths often.”
Work. Of course. It’s Saturday night. “Okay, right.” I shake my head and step back. She’s fine, at work. Safe. I force my pulse to slow. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Wait.” Kim holds up her hand and disappears back inside while her man watches me intently. When she comes back, she hands me a Zippo lighter with an eagle engraved on the side and a black Harley Davidson tee. “Are you looking for these?”
I flip the lighter over in my hand then shove both items back at her, fighting the urge to roar. “These aren’t mine.”
“Oh, oops.” She flashes an embarrassed smile, hissing through her teeth. “I’m sorry. I thought . . . Never mind.”
“No, thought what? What did you think?”