Filthy Daddy

Air won’t enter my lungs.

My vision is blurry.

My chest is tight.

I can’t concentrate.

A couple of hours later, the safe is done, Silas and the client are satisfied, and I can finally go home. I’ve borrowed one of the MC’s work trucks since pieces of my bike are scattered across and around the parking lot, wedged into trees and sticking out of the clubhouse outside walls. Axe is supposed to be watching over Molly. Deciding to check in, I send a text before driving off.

While waiting at a red light about ten minutes later, a text comes in. I fumble for the phone in the inner pocket of my cut and check the screen.

All good. Out at the store for dinner. Your girl’s gonna cook. Kept my cock in my pants. For now.

I shake my head and throw my phone on the other side of the truck seat. It’s impossible for Axe to be anything but an asshole to me, but that’s how we roll. Today, I seriously toy with the idea of choking him with my bare hands until he passes out, just for thinking of touching Molly. It’s oddly satisfying. Half my mouth quirks up in a smirk as I continue the drive on autopilot, thinking a meal sounds good, although a full four hours of sleep would be better for me.

Another text comes in from Axe. What does he want now? My phone is out of my reach on the edge of the passenger seat, and I’m in no mood to stop. But I start to ask myself if it’s about Molly. Jett’s still at large too. I glare at the phone out of the corner of my eye. I can’t wait.

I need to know what he wants.

Pulling the truck off to the side of the road. I turn on my four-way flashers and undo my seatbelt to reach for the phone.

911. We got fjehiirnvy;w

I blink at the emergency number and garbled message. It has no information about where they are or what’s wrong, but if he took the time to enter 911, I need to find them. I throw my truck into drive and rest a heavy foot on the gas.

Calling ahead to Dean at the clubhouse, he confirms that Axe and Molly aren’t there. After hitting the only four supermarkets and minimarts between Mesquite, Nevada and Littlefield, Arizona where we live, I stumble onto a lead when I find Axe’s bike in a parking lot. With a quick parking job beside his ride, I bolt out of the truck and into the store.

The only sales clerk is behind the front counter, and from the looks of it, the only person in the shop, has been shot execution style. There’s no questioning that double tap, one to the temple and the other through the heart. Axe and Molly aren’t here. My blood is boiling and my heart is pounding hard in my chest, pumping to aching muscles.

If I can just keep it together long enough to come up with a plan.

A plan. I only need one step in that plan. One thing at a time. Every thought points to one sinking feeling. Jett has done something to Axe and kidnapped Molly—and my unborn child.

One thing. One step.

I grab my phone from the truck and see that no other messages have come in. I phone Silas to give him the update and to line up some help if needed. Dean’s already seen to updating Silas, so they’re ready to go wherever we need to. After that, I find the pay phone on the side of the building and call the ambulance anonymously. No one needs to know I was here. Their response time in this stretch of highway is closer to fifteen minutes. It’s more than enough time to check out the entire store before I drive the hell away. And I’ll take anything I find that might lead me to Molly.

A search inside tells me that if Axe and Molly were here, they weren’t injured, shot or stabbed, and there wasn’t a fight. Because there’s no blood anywhere except flowing out from the dead cashiers’ body.

But there are no signs of a struggle anywhere either. On my second pass through the squat corner store, I find their grocery cart shoved behind the counter near the dead guy—with half a dozen sweet peppers and several packages of chicken. That’s Molly’s cart. It has the ingredients of her go-to dinner meal. A lump forms in my throat. They didn’t struggle, and there’s no blood. Someone must’ve pointed a gun at them. They cooperated and left with the person or people in their vehicle.

While I’m behind the counter, I snatch the surveillance footage. Sure, I’m removing evidence from a crime scene, but I’m willing to live with the consequences. If I’m caught.