Struck Love

“Come home,” I order, which only makes her giggle more. Fuck me. I’ll tie her ass to the bed when she gets here. “Babe.”

“Oh hush. I wanted to pick up a few things. So I can make some cookies.” Her breath hitches. “My brothers and I got into it today. I need something sweet to make me feel better.”

“Come home, and I’ll make you feel good. You won’t need those cookies.” That gets me another giggle. “I thought we were going to tell them together?” I lean up against the kitchen island, hating that she has to go through this shit. She’s so damn sweet to everyone, and now she has to deal with grief from her brothers. None of us deserve her, but none of us are willing to give her up either.

“I’m just over it. We’re in love, and I’m not hiding it. I want all of us to spend time together.” The longing is clear in her voice.

At least I know they can’t spook her off from me. She’s willing to fight this fight with me. I’m more than willing to do it alone, but it makes me feel like a king knowing she’ll do it at my side.

“I’m sorry, babe. I’ll try to talk to them.” I’ll do whatever it takes. Even if it means kissing her brother's asses, but honestly I don’t think that would do the trick. I might have to pound it into their skulls that I’m not going anywhere. They’ll have more respect for that at the end of the day. They’re going to want me to prove myself. Words don’t mean shit, and I understand that.

“It’s fine. They’ll come around. It’s not you.”

“Right.” This time it’s me that laughs.

“They’d be pissy about any guy.”

“I don’t blame them, babe. You’re special, and everyone knows it. Now get home and I’ll make you feel real good.”

“I’m walking out of the store now actually. I should be…” She trails off. The sound of tires screeching echoes through the line. I get that nagging feeling in my gut.

“Olivia!” I shout through the phone when I hear shuffling.

“Yeah,” she responds. My relief is short-lived when she starts to speak again but not to me. “Hey what are you...”

“You little cunt!” My blood runs cold at the sound of Eddie’s voice. “You and your brothers think you can fuck with me? I don’t care if you are screwing Adair.”

“Eddie!” Olivia screams before the line goes dead. Fear like I never felt before fills me.

“Motherfucker.” Eddie has signed his own death warrant. Because when I find that piece of shit, he’s going to pay for touching my girl with his life. I bolt into my bedroom, grabbing my gun before I head out of the club. I pull up Olivia’s father’s number on my phone.

“Hart,” he answers. I quickly tell him what happened as I jump onto my bike and fire it up. “I’m close to there.”

“Me too,” I say before I end the call. I want to ask more questions. Like how the fuck is Eddie even out? Right now that doesn’t matter. All that does is getting to my girl.

If he grabbed her, that means he’s not on his hog. I make it to the grocery store in record time. I spot Olivia’s car with the trunk open. There is a grocery bag inside and her cell phone is on the ground. I don’t stop.

My mind starts racing with all the reasons he’d grab her, if it’s because of me or her brothers that he’s trying to get back at. It really doesn't matter. I’ll kill him. There are so many places I could hide a body. They’d never find him.

I drive toward the only place I can think he’d take her. He’s not the brightest bulb in the shed, and I’m going to guess he didn’t realize she was on the phone with me. He probably thinks he’s all clear. That no one is going to know she’s missing for a while. He hadn’t counted on me being obsessed with her whereabouts.

I slow down as I make it closer to Eddie’s old man’s place, not wanting him to hear me coming. Wingman is a trucker and tends to be gone for long stretches at a time. He lives on the outskirts of town when he’s not at the clubhouse.

When he’s in town, his truck is parked off to the side. I don’t see it, but I do see an old white van parked sideways in the yard.

Panic and hope lights inside me. I pull out my phone and send Olivia’s dad my location. Flipping the safety on my gun, I head straight for the front door. I reach for the handle and turn. I slowly open it, slipping inside. The smell of cigarettes and stale beer fills the room.