His Property (Iron Bandits MC)

We told the cops, when they came yesterday, the whole sordid story. It took freaking forever to tell, and they were here about five hours making sure they were getting all the details, and dusting my room and the doors to the house and all over the place for any fingerprints that Brian might have left, just to confirm it was him.

All that time, and I was about crawling out of my skin. Brian—presuming it was him—had my baby. Peter was not well, he needed me. He needed me to eat. He needed me to watch over him, he needed me to love him, to always be there for him, and he didn’t have me now. He had crazy-as-fuck Brian McAfee, who didn’t know about Peter’s special needs as a preemie with a heart condition. He didn’t know what signs or symptoms to look for should Peter grow ill. He didn’t know my baby, he didn’t love my baby. What kind of care could he possibly be giving to Peter? Oh, God—was Peter still even…

No. I cut myself off from any such thoughts. Peter was alive. He had to be. I’d know, somehow, in my heart, if he wasn’t. Right?

These thoughts had been tumbling around and around in my head, non-stop, since I first discovered that my little bean was gone, and they showed no signs of abating or stopping.

The phone had been ringing a lot, with MC guys calling in, checking up on me, and to see if we had heard anything yet. Of course, we hadn’t. They were all on the roads, searching as best they could for any signs of Brian’s last known vehicle as listed with state records in Oregon. I didn’t think that was going to do any good, but there was little else to go on.

Brian, being an outdoor enthusiast, was a seasoned camper and hiker. He was a mountain biker. He was very fit. He had been off-radar for many months between when Keith died and the day he showed up and threw the rock through Jack’s window. He could have made a base camp literally anywhere in Arizona, or in New Mexico, or…anywhere.

I had no idea where my baby was. Or if he was being cared for. Or if…

I forced myself to stop the whirl of thoughts as they descended again. The cops were looking. The MC was looking. An Amber Alert had gone out yesterday, and people everywhere were looking. I had to believe that someone, somewhere, had seen Brian, seen something. And that soon I would have my baby back.

My world had become a nightmare, and there was no waking up.

# # #

“Ellie, your phone is ringing, hon. Here you go.” Holly brought it over to me on the couch—I must have left it on the counter in the kitchen. I wasn’t processing everything like I normally would. I felt dissociated from the outside world, from the people around me, from everything. All I could think about was Peter.

“Ellie, pick up the call. It says ‘Caller: Unknown’. It might be the guy. Answer it.”

I shook my head, clearing out the cobwebs, and looked at the phone. She was absolutely right, and suddenly my mind snapped to and I swiped right to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Say my name.”

I barely recognized the voice at all, but I knew it was Brian. It had to be. The only person calling my cell phone was Jack, and his name showed up as a contact.

“Brian.” I barely had a voice, I was so nervous. It came out almost like a whisper.

“I knew you would know it was me. I knew you would. Come back to me, Ellie. You have to, now.”

“Where’s Peter? Where’s my baby, Brian?” My voice got stronger. I could do this.

“That baby cries a lot, Ellie. How do you stand it? Do you really want a baby that cries so much?”

Was he nuts?—Oh, crap, yes, of course he was. What the hell kind of a person asks a mother if she wants her baby, just because he cries? …Then I realized: at least Brian was referring to Peter in the present tense. That gave me hope that—at least, so far—Peter was okay.

“Brian, tell me where you are, where Peter is. I need my baby. I just want my baby back.” I knew I was crying; I’d been crying so much, it felt like I’d never stop. It garbled my voice some, and I knew Brian could hear it. A part of me hated giving that to him, the knowledge that he hurt me, that he had made me cry. But the bigger part of me just felt so much loss, so much emptiness, that I was powerless to control the sobs.

“I need you to come to me, Ellie. You have to come to me. Alone. Just you. And finally it will just be us. Don’t bring any of those people. That man that you’ve been living with. Don’t bring him, Ellie. I’m warning you. You come alone, and I’ll take you to your screamin’ kid. And we’ll see what we want to do with him then. But you bring anybody—anybody—with you, and you won’t like what’s gonna happen. You hear me?”