Huck (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 1)

"Is he here? Is he okay?" she asked, trying to rush outside to look around.

My hand landed on her shoulder, shoving her back inside, pushing her against the wall as Che came to a stop in the drive. McCoy and Remy were near our driveway still.

"Something is going on. Find Seeley," I demanded, getting a nod from Che whose face was a mask of the dread I felt building inside.

I didn't imagine Seeley would have left Harmon alone in the house if he didn't have to.

That poor fucking kid had taken more than his fair share of pain thanks to his connection to us. And we hadn't even given the guy a patch yet.

"Tell me what happened," I demanded, closing the door, sliding the lock, reaching out to grab her wrist, pulling her through the house with me, checking to make sure no one else was around.

"I was cleaning up after lunch. Seeley was getting ready to go out back to smoke. And, really, you guys don't try to break him of that habit? At his age?" she said, babbling because she was anxious, so I didn't bother to respond to that part. "Anyway, there was a slamming sound. Like, I don't know, someone lost their balance and hit the house, maybe? Seeley told me to stay inside, to lock the door behind him, then he took off. And I... I haven't heard anything since then."

"Alright. We're on it," I assured her, pulling her into her bedroom, glancing out the window.

"No!" she shrieked when I moved back toward the door. "Don't leave," she demanded, voice high, edgy.

I wasn't sure I'd felt as torn as I did right that moment.

I belonged with my men. I owed it to Seeley to help find him.

That said, if Harmon was suddenly a target for being very loosely associated with the club, then I was just as responsible for her well-being as I was for Seeley's. More so, even, since she hadn't signed up for it. Also, let's face it, she was at risk for having worse shit done to her than was likely going to be done to Seeley.

This was where I belonged.

"I'm not leaving," I promised her. "I am just going to go look out the window in your office. You can't see shit from here."

"Wait," she demanded, rushing forward, moving to stand behind my left shoulder. "I'm coming," she added.

I wouldn't lie and say it didn't bolster up my ego a bit that she wanted to follow behind me, that she trusted me to protect her, because it sure as fuck did, even if my mind should have been on other things.

Like where the fuck Seeley was.

Like who the fuck was so obsessed with us all of a sudden?

We moved into Harmon's office, and she stayed glued behind me as I watched out the window, seeing nothing, no one.

A muffled shriek escaped her when my phone started to ring in my front pocket. As I reached for it, her forehead pressed into my back, and I could feel her taking a slow, deep breath, trying to calm her frazzled nerves.

"McCoy," I said, tension making a muscle tick in my jaw.

"We found him," McCoy said. "Alive," he rushed to add.

"How alive?" I asked.

"He was jumped from behind. Got knocked out by a rock, judging by the blood we found on it. Looks like he's going to have another scar to brag about."

"Take him to the hospital this time," I demanded. "Don't fuck around with head wounds."

"Oh no," Harmon whimpered behind me as I tucked my gun into my waistband, raising my arm to reach behind me, pulling her forward, keeping my arm around her as I listened to McCoy tell me a whole lot of nothing.

No one was around.

No clues left behind.

No car treads.

Fucking nothing.

"Alright. Get him to the hospital. Send Remy and Che back to the clubhouse. We will meet them over there in a few. Call and lean on Arty a bit now that shit is getting serious. Keep me updated," I added, ending the call, tucking my phone away.

"Poor Seeley," Harmon said in a small voice, again pressing her face against me, but this time, my chest.

"He's a tough kid. He will be fine," I assured her. "Alright. Come on," I said, pulling her along with me as I walked her back to her bedroom. "Pack a bag."

"Ah, what?" she asked, pulling back enough to look up at me, her eyebrows pinched.

"You are coming over to the clubhouse."

"No, I'm not."

"Christ. Are we going to argue about this for twenty minutes, wasting both our time first, or can we just cut to the chase?" I asked. "You're coming with me, even if I have to toss you over my shoulder. And if I have to pack your shit, it's going to be thongs and that is it."