Текст книги "Hold On"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

So there I stood, staring at a Christmas tree, and I was pretty certain I was going to buy the whole damn thing as it was—ornament by ornament, garland by garland—and resurrect it in Merry’s awesome new lake house. It was boho to the max, colorful with lots of berries and crystals and differently sized and shaped ornaments, very cluttered, stuffed full, totally awesome.

There was no other tree in Bobbie’s whole shop like it.

But I’d had a look at a couple of the ornaments, and even with Vi’s discount, to recreate that tree would cost a thousand dollars.

It was perfect for Merry’s pad, so I did not care.

Okay, that wasn’t true. It was perfect for me (I still didn’t care).

What I cared about was something else.

I whipped out my phone, jabbed my finger on the screen, and put it to my ear.

“Hey, babe. What’s shakin’?” Vi asked in greeting.

“Do you think Merry would lose his mind if I bought pink and purple Christmas tree ornaments?”

“How many?”

“A lot.”

“Okay, then, one hundred percent affirmative on him losing his mind.”

“Shit,” I muttered, already kind of knowing that was the answer.

“Say one ornament that you put on the inside of a branch close to the trunk that’s mostly hidden and he can’t see, you might get away with that. But more than that? No go.”

I stared at the tree. “What about canary yellow? And teal?”

“Negatory and negatory.”

“Lace cutout stars?”

Her voice was getting shrill either with hilarity, disbelief, or both when she asked, “Have you met Garrett Merrick?”

“Shit,” I muttered again.

“I thought you guys already decorated.”

“We did. My house. But we decided this morning we’re doin’ Christmas at Merry’s. So I need a whole new tree.”

“Ooo, sweet. Christmas by the lake. Awesome.”

She was not wrong.

“Fake tree?” she asked.

“I don’t know. He said he’d get one. That could mean anything.”

“He’s a guy. If he says he’ll get one, that means it’ll be real and you’ll be cleaning up pine needles until February. You’ll also have a time of it talking him out of going somewhere and chopping one down himself just so he can chop down a tree. My advice, babe? Focus on those things, primarily talking him into a fake tree so you don’t have to vacuum pine needles for two months, not wasting time talking him into pink ornaments. Trust me on this. You got a badass in your bed, you learn to pick your battles.”

I had a badass in my bed. I loved him. I wanted to keep him there. So I should listen to Vi. She had a lot of experience. She’d married a badass in the making when she was eighteen, and he’d grown into a full-blown one who unfortunately got dead way too soon. She’d then married an even bigger one who kept knocking her up when she wanted to concentrate on hoping her second child didn’t get knocked up by her own badass boyfriend at the same time keeping an eye on the fact that her oldest daughter had begun dating a badass cop in Chicago.

Yes, I should listen to Vi. She lived and breathed badass.

Whatever you want.

Merry said that a lot.

To me and to my kid.

I stared at the tree.

Not only would it be awesome this year, it’d be even more awesome in the master suite next year. Our tree. Merry’s and mine.

Whatever you want.

“Bobbie gonna give me your discount?” I asked Vi.

“You’re buyin’ pink ornaments, aren’t you?” she asked back.

“Merry likes me to have what I want,” I told her.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “That’s why I have my new lavender bed set that Joe said he’d sleep on over his dead body. Then again, that’s also why Joe’s got his next kid in my womb.”

“Yeah,” I replied, feeling squishy she had that and now I did too. Decision made, I muttered, “This tree is gonna cost a mint.”

“I’ll call Bobbie. See what she can swing for you.”

“Thanks, Vi.”

“No probs, babe. See you later.”

“Later.”

I shoved my phone in my purse and moved to the baskets under the tree. I was filling my cart with boho Christmas when Bobbie wandered up to me.

She looked to the cart then to me. “Shit, I was gonna offer you thirty percent instead of Vi’s twenty-five, but you goin’ whole hog like that this late in the season, I’ll give you forty. Just tell ’em at the register you’re Vi’s friend and Bobbie says forty. They give you shit, make them page me.”

With that, she wandered away.

But I was grinning because forty was brilliant. It didn’t make this doable. I still had a grill to buy (housewarming). I also had a phone to buy (Merry’s screen was cracked and it drove me crazy in a way I didn’t know how it didn’t drive him crazy, so I was doing something about it, and what I was doing was for Christmas).

But for boho Christmas at Merry’s new lake house, for the first time since I’d clawed my way out from under it, I’d carry a balance on my credit card for a month (or two).

I’d also continue to cut back on the candy. The makeup was a wash since I was setting up my stash at Merry’s. Our first Christmas with Merry and spoiling my man, though, I’d sacrifice my candy.

Totally.

I got the tree stuff for me. I got the expensive lights for Merry. And I got some matching garlands to put on Merry’s mantel because, if you had a mantel at Christmas, it had to be decorated and I was pretty sure I could talk Merry into believing that.

But even I knew I was pushing it (but couldn’t stop myself) when I bought Christmas kitchen towels.

I was loading all of this in the back of the Equinox when I heard, “You do know you ruined my life.”

I stopped loading and looked to Mia Merrick, who was standing by my cart, holding a potted poinsettia curled in each arm.

Shit.

Why?

Really.

Why?

Why couldn’t I just have an excellent day?

A day where I woke up in Merry’s arms, my kid safe and snug and warm under his roof in his new awesome lake house that had new double-paned windows and a new furnace.

A day where Merry made us pancakes and teamed up with my kid to give me shit, which I would for eternity (if I had the shot) make them think annoyed me when I secretly loved every second of it.

A day where Merry said he wanted Christmas and he wanted us to move in with him.

A day where I could buy a bunch of Christmas crap that (best case) Merry was going to think was hilariously me or (worst case) Merry was going to hate. For the former, he’d just tease me, and if it was the latter, he’d still let me have what I want.

Why, from the parking lot of Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe, couldn’t I go to the grocery store, buy a tube of premade Christmas cookie dough (cookie dough was not candy, so it didn’t count) and some Pringles (because we were low), go home, make Christmas cookies for my boys, and decorate a tree my man (and maybe my kid) were gonna hate?

Why?

Why couldn’t all that just be without anything fucking with it?

“Mia, really, today’s been a good day and I’m not—” I started.

She got closer to me (something I liked even less than her being there at all) and cut me off. “Today’s been a good day? Has it, Cher? Has it been a good day for you? Well, how lucky you are. Because today and yesterday and the last three months have been shit for me…” Her face twisted before she finished, “Because of you.”

No wonder Merry scraped her off. She was a pain in the ass.

“If you think I’m lucky, babe, then—” I tried again.

I didn’t get far.

“Do I think you’re lucky?” she sniped. Her gaze cut inside my car and back to me, and her voice degenerated significantly when she asked, “Merry needs Christmas decorations for his new house?”

Okay, right.

I was done. I didn’t need this and I wasn’t going to have it.

So I was going to end it.

“If you’ve deluded yourself into thinking I’m the cause of all your problems, that’s your gig, Mia. It has nothing to do with me. Take it elsewhere,” I stated.

“Deluded?” she asked, coming even closer. “Isn’t it you who’s fucking my husband?”

“No. It’s me who’s fucking Garrett Merrick, who isn’t your husband. Now, step back,” I demanded.

She didn’t step back.

“He’ll come back to me,” she declared.

“Whatever,” I muttered, grabbed the handles of the last bag in the cart and put it into my car.

“He will. He’ll come back. It’s him and me and everyone knows it,” she pushed.

“Really? Are you that deep in the fantasy? How sad.”

I didn’t say that.

My head turned at the new voice.

And when I saw who was behind it, I stopped dead.

I did this because, joining our tableau, was Susie Shepherd.

And her catty, bitch-from-hell eyes were aimed at Mia.

I didn’t know Susie. Not at all. She never came into the bar partly because she was Colt’s ex, partly because she was kidnapped by Denny Lowe and shot by him during her time as a hostage, and partly because everyone in town knew she’d sold her story, which made the residue of Lowe’s journey of lunacy last a lot longer.

She was also known ’burg-wide as a soulless, selfish, spoiled bitch.

This was evidenced by the fact that she and her partner in crime, Tina Blackstone (who did come into J&J’s, regrettably, since the bitch didn’t tip), wreaked havoc countywide in a variety of ways they were committed to to the point it seemed like a mission.

These included targeting married men with their charms (and unfortunately, since Susie was very attractive, she was successful with this). They gossiped viciously with the few friends they had, spreading that gossip as far and as wide as they could, even if it was all lies. And they threw down easily and frequently whenever the spirit moved them (even to the point of Susie going at it with Vi right in front of Cal, who Susie had fucked, a fact she’d shared with Vi right in front of Cal).

Everyone in town hated her.

I only knew her because I’d seen pictures of her in conjunction with reports about Lowe’s mayhem and I’d seen her around town here and there.

But in the grand scheme of things in the ’burg, I knew one thing for certain: if your day was filled with happiness and light or it was the worst kind of crap, Susie Shepherd could darken it exponentially.

Shit.

“Your input isn’t needed here, Susie,” Mia snapped.

“You aren’t needed here, Mia,” Susie snapped back, then looked at me, throwing out a disgusted hand. “I mean, seriously. Normally? Rude. But it’s Christmas.” She shook her head. “Some people.”

I stared at Susie in shock.

Mia didn’t.

She turned fully to her and shared, “I was having a private conversation with Cher.”

“You were staking your claim to Merrick. Again. I don’t get it, Mia. The man’s so over you, it’s embarrassing. I mean,” she jerked her head to me, “she’s all but shacked up with him, in Bobbie’s parking lot with a trunk full of Christmas decorations they’re gonna put on a tree in his new house and probably fuck under, and you get in her face.” She shook her head and concluded, “It’s not embarrassing, it’s plain sad.”

I watched this all going down with some fascination at the same time I made a mental note to find time to fuck Merry under our new boho Christmas tree.

“Your opinion is unwanted,” Mia shot back.

“Just trying to help a sister save face,” Susie said with false concern. “I mean, why you haven’t left town yet, I do not know.”

“You are asking me that?” Mia retorted.

Susie shrugged. “Yeah. The words did come out of my mouth two seconds ago.”

Mia decided she was done, declaring this fact by saying, “Just go away. This is none of your business.”

I braced when Susie suddenly took two steps forward, getting right in Mia’s space and face, and hissed, “It is my business.” She lifted a hand and jabbed a finger my way. “She’s happy. He fucked her over, but now she’s finally happy and you’re in a goddamned parking lot fucking with that. So it is my business, Mia. Stay out of her face or you’ll find mine all up in yours. And, baby girl, get me. Your kitten claws might sting, but you tangle with me, I’ll shred you.”

Holy fuck!

Susie was throwing down.

For me.

“So you two are Denny Lowe sisters, is that it?” Mia bit back.

“Yeah,” Susie whispered. “Yeah we are. We don’t wanna be, but we are. And, just in case you aren’t getting this, because we are, you don’t fuck with us.”

Whoa.

Susie was totally throwing down.

For me.

I was attempting to process this and how I felt about it when I braced again. This was because Susie’s eyes lifted from Mia and she tensed.

Visibly.

Susie visibly tensed and I watched the blood drain clean from her face.

Then she started backing up.

Her mouth moved.

It moved again.

No sound came out.

“What?” I asked.

Her mouth moved, and again, no sound came out.

“Susie, are you okay?”

She looked to me.

Then she screamed, “Run!”

And that was when the gunshots exploded.

* * * * *

Garrett

“Pink.”

Garrett turned in line at Mimi’s Coffee Shop to see Cal behind him, his baby son asleep and strapped to his chest, his little girl in front of him in a stroller, the key fob to Cal’s truck half an inch from Angela’s face, a clear object of fascination.

“What?” he asked.

“Pink,” Cal repeated, looked to Mike at Garrett’s side, his eyes fucking alight with humor.

Shit.

“And, I hear, some purple,” Cal went on.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Garrett asked.

“Vi reported in. The ornaments for your tree. Brace, man. Cher’s testin’ you,” Cal told him.

Pink Christmas ornaments.

Did they even make pink Christmas ornaments?

“They do that,” Mike muttered.

Garrett turned to his partner. “They do what?”

“Test you,” Mike said.

“Now what are you talkin’ about?” Garrett asked.

“Pink ornaments. Purple sheets. Shit for the kitchen you do not need,” Cal answered the question he asked Mike. And he wasn’t done. “Wait until you get in a discussion about who’s gonna pay what bill. Vi gave it her all to unman me with that one, brother. Cher sinks her teeth in you, you give in even a little on that, she’ll have your balls and she’ll be payin’ your mortgage.”

Fuck.

“And toss pillows,” Cal kept at it. “So many toss pillows, it’s borderline insane. They got some for summer. Then, for some Godforsaken reason, they switch them out for winter. They add some for Halloween. Thanksgiving. Christmas.” He shook his head, but his eyes were still full-on amused. “They use this shit to test you. See how tight a hold they got on your dick.”

Garrett stared at him.

Angela whirled her dad’s key fob in the air and shouted, “May-May!”

That meant Merry.

He grinned down at her, bending to touch the tip of her nose with his finger. “Hey, sweetheart.”

When he straightened away, she twisted to try to see her father. “Want May-May!”

Cal bent over the stroller. “Merry’s workin’, baby. Today, you got Daddy.”

“Daddeeee!” she yelled, a big grin on her pretty face, clearly not too cut up she couldn’t have Garrett.

“Just let it go, man,” Mike advised to Garrett, and he turned to Mike as Mike moved forward in the line. “And by that, I mean the pink ornaments. Just let her have them.”

Cal inclined his head toward Mike. “That’s the way. Suck it up. Take the hit. You fight over pink ornaments and purple sheets, she may let go of your dick.” He grinned. “And you don’t want that.”

“Cher’s got beads acting as a door to her closet,” Garrett told Cal.

Cal nodded sagely, still grinning. “Mm-hmm. You’re in for it, brother.”

“What I’m sayin’ is, who gives a shit?” Merry asked. “She’s it. Got over the wrong one; got my hands on the right one. So if she wants pink ornaments and I got no preference of Christmas ornaments except havin’ ’em, then who cares? If it makes her happy…” he trailed off on a shrug.

Cal’s brows drew together like he couldn’t comprehend what Garrett was saying to him.

Garrett grinned at him as his phone rang.

He pulled it out, looked at the screen, decided tomorrow he was fucking finally going to go get a new phone, and he took Sully’s call.

“Yo, Sul.”

“Merry, brother, call just came in. Shots fired. Parking lot at Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe.”

Garrett froze.

Not because there were shots fired.

Because of the tone in Sully’s voice and the fact that Cher was going to Bobbie’s that day.

“Sul,” he whispered, his insides freezing.

“Shits me to say this—shits me—but gotta say it. Calls came in reported the shooter abducted Cher.”

He turned sharply and headed to the door.

“You with Colt?” he asked Sully.

“Merry,” Mike called.

“We’re headed that way,” Sully told him. “Colt’s a little…” He didn’t finish.

He didn’t have to.

Garrett knew what Colt was.

He was that too.

Except she was his.

She was Colt’s friend.

But Cher was his.

And she’d been abducted.

Fucking abducted.

So what Colt was, Garrett was more of it.

“We’re headed that way too,” Garrett told him, shoving out the door.

“Merry, dammit, what the fuck?” Mike clipped.

“You got any more?” Garrett asked Sully.

“Nothin’. Call just came in. Pandemonium at Bobbie’s. Got units goin’ out there. If I get more before you get there, I’ll call,” Sully answered.

“Later,” Garrett bit off, standing on the driver’s side door of their service sedan. He looked to Mike, who was rounding the hood. “Keys,” he demanded.

It wasn’t his day to drive.

“Garrett, what’s goin’ on?” Mike asked tersely.

“Shots fired at Bobbie’s and preliminary reports say that the shooter took Cher.”

“What?” Mike asked, stopping short by Garrett.

“What?” Cal growled, and Garrett spared a glance to the sidewalk where Cal and his kids were.

He looked back to Mike. “Keys.”

“You aren’t drivin’, brother,” Mike replied quietly.

Garrett leaned his way. “Give me the goddamned keys.”

“Round the car, Merry. I drive,” Mike returned.

They faced off.

For half a second.

Then Garrett jogged around the car so they could get to Bobbie’s.

* * * * *

Cher

From my place, lying in the backseat of a car, hands zip-tied behind my back, I stared at the profile of Walter Jones, who was driving.

“You’re not ex-FBI, are you?” I whispered.

He said nothing.

“You’re not ex-FBI. You’re one of those sick fucks who gets off on all things Dennis Lowe,” I guessed.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He was.

God.

He was.

And he had me.

“I got a kid. I got a mom. I got a man. I got a life. I’ll repeat, I got a kid,” I told him.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“He’s eleven.”

I rolled to the floor when he suddenly stopped the car, pain shooting up my shoulder and across my hips, both of which hit first.

By the time I twisted my head to look up, he was leaned around the driver’s seat, pointing his gun at me.

“I said,” he whispered, “shut the fuck up.”

I shut the fuck up.

He waited.

Then he turned back around and drove.

* * * * *

Garrett

“She didn’t run.”

Garrett stood in the parking lot of Bobbie’s with Colt, Mike, and Sully, listening to Susie Shepherd talk, Mia standing next to her but not close. Both of them were visibly freaked right the fuck out, but surprisingly, it was Susie who had it together to report what had happened.

He tried to stay locked on Susie, but he couldn’t.

His eyes wandered to the back of the Equinox. The hatch up.

She’d been loading bags when Mia confronted her. Interrupted by his fucking ex-wife, then abducted by an unknown man with a weapon.

Six shopping bags he could count.

Fucking six.

She was excited for Christmas. Christmas with him and her boy.

Pink ornaments.

“It was too late, though. He was right on her. Snuck up the side of her car. She didn’t see him because she was dealing with Mia, and I didn’t see him because I was too. Cher didn’t have time to run,” Susie finished, and Garrett looked back to her.

“Merry,” Mia whispered.

Abe ran up. “BOLO out on the vehicle. They’re settin’ up roadblocks. Everyone’s been called in.” His eyes fell on Merry. “Everyone, dude. Everyone’s out lookin’.”

Even though the man had shot three rounds into the air to make his point, everyone getting that point and scattering, Susie had managed to have it together enough to see what car the man took Cher to. Make, model, but she got no plate.

Now they had a BOLO.

“Merry,” Mia whispered again.

“Describe him again,” Garrett clipped at Susie.

“Dark hair. Receding. Gray in it. Same with his goatee,” she described. “Good clothes. Blue shirt, nice jeans, nice leather jacket. He had some heft, but it worked on him.” She glanced at Colt before she returned her attention to Merry. “You know my type, so just to be helpful, I wouldn’t fuck him. He’s too short, he wasn’t all that, and he’s clearly a psychopath, shooting gunshots in the air in a fucking garden shop parking lot.”

Garrett turned to his partner. “Find Ryker.”

“You got something?” Mike asked.

“Just find Ryker.”

Mike nodded and stepped back, pulling out his phone.

He looked to Colt and Sully. “Call Warren. Nowakowski. Find out if Walter Jones was FBI.”

“Jesus, Merry, you think—?” Colt started.

Garrett looked back at Susie. “You said his vehicle looked like a rental?”

She nodded. “I saw a decal. Didn’t see it clearly, but it didn’t say dealership. It said rental. Just didn’t see which company.”

Garrett turned to Colt. “Description matches, Colt.”

“I’ll call Nowakowski,” Sully murmured. “You call Warren.”

They pulled out their phones.

“Merry,” Mia whispered.

Hearing her repeat his name, he felt it snap. It was a twinge right at his heart, small but not insignificant, seeing as it reverberated through his frame, exploding in his brain.

Compelled by the explosion, Garrett turned to her and roared, “Not now, Mia!”

Her pale face turned ash.

“You love her,” she kept whispering.

“Jesus, fuck,” Garrett clipped, turning to put distance between himself and his ex, not to mention get to the goddamned car so he could look for his woman, doing this while ordering to a hovering Marty, “Get that bitch away from me.”

He could not go apeshit crazy. He had to keep it locked down. If he lost his mind, he couldn’t use it to find his woman. And when he found her, he’d be in no place to be there for her.

He had to lock it down.

“Uh…Mia, if you’d—” Marty started.

“I’m gonna go out and look for her.”

Garrett turned back at his ex-wife’s words.

“I’m gonna look for her,” she declared again.

She lifted her chin and caught hold of Susie’s hand.

Mia Merrick, spoiled rich girl, holding fucking Susie Shepherd’s hand, Susie being spoiled bitch girl.

“Me and Susie. Me and Susie are gonna go look for Cher,” she kept at it.

Susie yanked her hand away and looked down in disgust at Mia, demanding to know, “Have you lost your mind?”

Mia looked up at Susie. “You said you were sisters.”

Cher and Susie, sisters?

“We are, but I’m not doin’ shit with you. I got nothing to prove. And anyway, might be a good idea you let the people who know what they’re doing do it without you in the way,” Susie returned, and looked to Garrett. “Are we done?”

“Keep your phone close,” Garrett told her.

She nodded, glared at Mia, and stomped away.

“Well, I’m gonna look for her myself, then,” Mia declared.

“You impede this search, I swear to fuck—” Garrett started.

“I want to help,” she returned.

She wanted to make a point. She wanted to make a play.

And now was so not the time, it wasn’t fucking funny.

“Then how about you shut up and go home,” Mike asked, phone still to his ear, irate eyes on Mia.

She looked with surprise at Mike then to Garrett.

“Okay. Maybe I’ll just go home,” she decided hesitantly, watching Garrett closely.

“Good call,” Colt muttered.

She looked to Colt then again to Garrett.

She had no traction there, no support, no one giving any indication they thought there was anything left of Merry and Mia. Or that they even liked Mia, with or without Merry.

And she got not one thing from Garrett.

So finally, he got what he was expecting.

It was too much for her, she was giving up.

It was written all over her face. An expression he’d seen a lot over a lot of years and missed repeatedly.

He didn’t miss it then.

He just didn’t care.

“I just…I hope she’s okay, Merry,” she said.

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away.

The minute he did, she was out of his head.

He moved as he bit out, “Mike.”

Mike looked his way. Phone still to his ear, he moved with Merry.

Garrett pulled out his phone and called his dad.

“Yo, Garrett, son,” Dave answered, talking quickly. “Ernie heard it. Tanner phoned me just after Ernie heard it. Tanner’s out. I’m out too. So’s Ernie and Spike. Don’t you worry. We’ll find that car.”

His father and his retired BPD cronies were not unwanted additions to the search.

But he needed something else.

“Shit gets around, Dad. It’s still early, school’s not out for a while, and I appreciate you lookin’ for Cher. But I need someone to deal with Ethan. Ethan and Grace.”

He stopped at the car and looked over the roof to see Mike still had his phone to his ear, but he beeped the locks.

“I’ll call Rocky,” Dave told him.

“Rocky’s in class.”

“She’ll sort somethin’ out, Garrett. You need men on the streets, not me holdin’ Grace’s hand.”

His dad was right.

He needed men on the streets.

He needed that car found.

He needed Cher found.

Fuck, his head hurt.

“Call Rocky, Dad,” he ordered as he yanked open the door and folded into the car.

“You got it, son.”

He was taking the phone from his ear to disconnect when he heard his father call his name.

“Yeah?” he asked when he put it back.

“We’ll find her,” his father said quietly.

They would. They absolutely would.

They had to.

For Ethan. For Grace.

For Garrett.

They had to find her.

He couldn’t think of it another way.

He couldn’t think of her not behind the bar at J&J’s when he walked in. He couldn’t think of her not there, pretending she was annoyed her kid and him were giving her shit over pancakes. He couldn’t think of losing her brand of sweet. Never seeing it again, when she could be cute.

He couldn’t think of not waking up to her pretty every morning.

He couldn’t think of never having that look from her, that look that said she loved him.

He couldn’t think of losing what his father lost how his father lost it, in other words, in a way he’d never get it back and the child she made who he loved wouldn’t either.

He couldn’t think of that.

If he did, his head would explode.

Or his heart would stop.

And if that shit happened, he couldn’t help find her.

“Yeah, Dad. Got calls to make, shit to do. Later, yeah?”

“Later, son.”

He took his phone from his ear as Mike backed out of their spot. “Ryker’s not answering.”

“Fuck,” Garrett muttered.

“Called Tanner. Tanner’s been tryin’ him too. Incommunicado.”

Not unusual with Ryker.

Just irritating because they needed everyone they could get.

“He didn’t report back on Jones,” Garrett told Mike. “Don’t know where he found him. Don’t know where he was stayin’. Don’t know what he did to get him gone. Just know he disappeared and Cher didn’t hear shit. Until now.”

“We don’t know this is that guy, Merry,” Mike pointed out.

They didn’t.

He had not gotten sick-fuck vibes from Walter Jones. He hadn’t gotten any read on him except ex-cop.

In truth, until they pulled Bobbie’s camera feeds, they had to go forward thinking it could be anyone. It might not have anything to do with Dennis Lowe. It could be someone losing it at Christmas because they lost their job and couldn’t afford presents. Or they cheated on their wife and she threw them out and they were messed up and wanted to make some woman pay. Or they had some fucked part of their head get more fucked and they went to the parking lot of a goddamned garden shop and abducted a woman.

It could be anyone.

Anyone who had Cher.

His blood started to burn.

He lifted a hand and pressed his middle three fingers to his forehead, and he did it hard.

“She’s tough, brother,” Mike said softly.

Garrett pressed in harder.

Chatter was coming from their radio. Men and women out, reporting in. Checking parking lots. Driving down streets. Off-duty officers from Avon, Danville, Plainfield were all mucking in. Shots fired. A woman abducted. She belonged to a cop. The brotherhood was closing in.

“I love her,” Garrett told his knees, pressing harder into his forehead, holding back the rage, keeping it contained, trying not to fly apart.

“I know you do, Merry.”

“Gonna make babies with her,” he told his partner.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Give Ethan brothers and sisters.”

“Yeah, Merry.”

“Never wanted that. Not with anyone, Mike. Never wanted any of that with anyone but Cher.”

“Stick with me, brother. Yeah? Stick with me.”

Garrett pulled in breath.

He would not see a burgundy Ford Taurus with his eyes to his fucking knees.

He dropped his hand and lifted his head.

His phone sounded with a text.

He pulled it out and looked at the cracked screen.

Out looking. You got time to tell me, Vi wants to know if Ethan’s covered.

Cal.

He’s covered. Grace too. Rocky’s got them, Garrett texted back.

Someone needs to get Ryker’s head out of his ass. He’s not answering. He needs in on this hunt, Cal returned.

We’re on that, Garrett replied.

Cal sent no more.

Mike drove.

Garrett scanned the streets and listened to the reports coming in at the same time he sent a text to Ryker that Cher was missing and they needed him to report in.

After he sent it, he backed out of his texts with Ryker and went to the string under Cal’s.

He opened it.

Ethan’s safe at school. He reports we’re almost out of Pringles. You’re out, you wanna get on that?

Him to Cher.

Your wish is my command, then a half dozen x’s and o’s, another half dozen hearts of various colors, ending with a shamrock and the head of a chicken.

Cher to him.

Garrett closed his eyes tight as pain spiked through his brain.

Then he opened them and scanned the streets again.

* * * * *

Cher

“I need to go to him.”

“You fuckin’ do shit I don’t tell you to do, you’ll be lyin’ beside him.”

I stared at Ryker’s big, powerful, scary biker-dude body prone on the floor.

Wet hit my eyes.

Blood had pooled around him on the linoleum.

A lot of it.

Too much.

Too much of Ryker leaking all over my goddamned kitchen floor.

* * * * *

Garrett

He took the call from Colt.

“Got Nowakowski,” Colt stated. “Walter Jones was a profiler for the FBI. Now he’s freelance. He’s also right now pissed as shit that Nowakowski called and interrupted his vacation golf game on some course in Arizona to make him pissed as fuck by telling him some guy is impersonating him in Indiana.”

“Fuck,” Garrett whispered.

He should have checked. He should have looked into that shit.

Then again, the man who had Cher had done his homework. Preliminarily, how far would anyone dig before they let him get his foot in the door?

Still.

Fuck.

“Only two rental car agencies around Indianapolis International got burgundy Ford Tauruses in their fleets. Got folks checkin’ those that are out and who’s got ’em. They got LoJack, we’ll get positions of the vehicles that are out. Still checking other agencies not at the airport. I’ll report back on that,” Colt continued.