“More ink?”
“That too. But not today.” I keep counting the bills. “What’s the best jewelry store in the area?”
One corner of his mouth slides up. “I know a place.”
A few hours later, we return to the clubhouse. Driveway’s full of cars. All the outside lights are on, illuminating the surrounding area.
Hope embraces Rock as soon as we walk in the door. He drops his forehead to hers and they share a few words. I move away to give them privacy.
Most of the guys from Downstate returned with Z, so it’s a full house tonight. Both clubs celebrating together.
Z pulls me to his side when I try to pass him. “You feel good about this, G?”
“Good? Not really. Relieved I guess.” I lift my chin at Rooster. “What was up with your whole ‘let me paint you a picture’ speech?”
He grins and strokes his hand over his beard. “What? I just thought I’d point out how Quill’s fuck ups might screw with Chaser’s MC if he’s not careful.”
“Jesus.” Z gives Rooster a quick shove. “I got worried for a sec Quill might shoot you.”
“I thought those crazy motherfuckers were gonna shoot all of us,” Wrath says, draping his arms over Z and Rooster’s shoulders. He squeezes Rooster hard enough to knock him off-balance. “Especially when you handed Grinder your nine, ya dick.”
“What? The guy was being disrespectful.” Rooster shrugs and smirks at the same time.
Trinity approaches us and raises an eyebrow at Wrath. “Come here, angel.” He lifts her up and she wraps herself around him.
Rooster taps Trinity’s shoulder. “Before you two maul each other. You seen Shelby?”
Trinity points toward the hallway. “She’s coming.”
“Serena with her?” I ask Trinity.
She frowns. “No, I haven’t seen her all day, actually.”
Shit. Did she hear the party going on and decide to stay upstairs? Is she sick? I pull my phone out and turn it on. Forgot to check it after the meeting.
No texts or voicemails from her.
I run into Lilly next. “Have you seen Serena?”
“No, not since last night.” She tilts her head to the side. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just worried about her.”
Z wraps his arm around her and whispers something in her ear, then lifts his chin at me. “Everything all okay, G?”
“Gonna head upstairs to look for Serena.”
“Don’t stay up there all night.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. If Serena’s not feeling well or she’s too stressed to deal with the party, I’m staying by her side.
“Serena?” I push into our room, expecting to find her sleeping or reading.
No Serena.
No sign of Serena.
Bed’s been made. Chair’s empty. Desk is clear.
What the fuck?
Every last thing of hers is gone.
Not cleaned up, tidy, organized and put away.
Motherfucking gone.
I rip open the closet door. Her hangers—empty.
Yank out a dresser drawer—nothing.
Bathroom counter—clear.
Her brush, her pile of hair ties, all her fancy little bottles, colorful containers, and brushes that had started creeping over to my side of the bathroom sink are gone.
What the hell?
Why would she leave without telling me?
My gaze drops to the floor.
Trash can—full.
No need to dig through the trash. A bright pink and blue box sits right on top.
Rapid Pregnancy Test. 99% Accurate.
The big picture on the front explains it all.
Two lines—pregnant. One line—not pregnant.
The box is empty.
My heart pounds.
There’s a pink box underneath the blue one. I pull that one out.
Early Pregnancy Test. Clear Results Fast!
Three white sticks are stuffed inside that box.
Oh, buttercup. If you wanted to hide the evidence, you did a shit job of it.
My hands shake as I lay all three sticks on the counter.
Three tests. Six lines, total.
This feels like visiting Rose again. Magnified by a thousand because the stakes are so much higher. I don’t want to get my hopes up and be crushed. Again.
I scoop up the sticks and keep staring.
Two lines—pregnant. One line—not pregnant.
Someone knocks on our door.
I hurry to open it, with the tests still clutched in my fist.
Z’s on the other side. “We’re waiting on you, brother.” He peers over my shoulder. “Serena coming downstairs—”
I shove the test sticks in Z’s face. “Do these mean what I think?”
He backs up a step. His eyes widen. It takes him a minute to answer. “Yeah, but ours are never positive.”
Shit, now I feel like an asshole.
“What’s going on?” His concerned gaze lifts. “Are those Serena’s?”
“They’re not mine.”
His concern twists into confusion. “Where is she?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” I open the door wider. “All her shit’s gone.”