I wake up with a start. Molly's arms and legs are wrapped around me. The warmth radiating from her body is insane. That’s not what woke me up. I’m sure I heard someone knocking on the door, so I gently slide out from her comforting grip, hoping not to wake her up. Only a couple of hours have passed since we fell asleep, so I put some effort into shaking off the drowsiness on my way to the door.

Silas stands there with a hand raised, about ready to knock again.

“What’s up?” I glance back at the woman in my bed as she groans and rolls over. Sliding out the door, I close it behind me.

Silas’s gaze flicks up and then down. His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. I’m not wearing anything, not even a sheet.

I shrug. “I didn’t want to disturb her. What’s going on?”

“I need you on a job. Axe will keep an eye on her while you’re gone.” I start to argue when Silas shakes his head to stop me. “Not one word, son of a bitch. Downstairs. Now. Preferably not naked.”

My half-awake brain catches onto the word ‘naked’ and clings to it for some reason. I watch Silas walk down the long hallway, but don’t really see the guy. I’m replaying what I did with Molly. I’m addicted to her now, which is about the same as being fucking whipped.

* * *

I’m almost finished re-programming a safe at the house of a client Silas sent me to work on. Exhausted from lack of sleep and running on empty, all I want is to go back to the woman still passed out in bed. My unofficial old lady. I remind myself to keep focused on this wealthy client’s safe. I don’t want to be forced to come back because of some mistake I make on account of counting down the seconds to get back to Molly. This is routine work, a simple diagnostic check that I perform by hooking up my laptop, entering a few codes, and switching out a few wires if needed.

But nothing feels routine about today.

Silas came along with me this time, which is strange. He’s downstairs with the client, discussing new security features that she wants us to install soon. Silas knows how to help clients see that we’re more than capable of meeting all their needs. From the sounds of this particular job, the work is extensive and costly. This reprogramming piece I’ve just started is just the beginning. I’ll definitely need to make a few return trips with an installation team if this pans out. Glad for the grunt work here in front of the safe instead of negotiating terms with the client, I throw myself into the job.

“Pssst!”

“What?” I glance around me, but no one’s there. I’m pretty fucking sure I was alone on this floor of the client’s massive house. Great, I’m hearing things now.

“Hi. Do you want to play hide and seek with me?” says a little girl’s voice.

That wasn’t a hallucination. I look toward the door and catch the tip of a small, blonde pigtail before the child it’s attached to hides in the hallway.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I haven’t had enough sleep for this shit. A kid.

I’m going to have a goddamn kid.

Like that one.

Or maybe a boy.

I walk to the door, to see what I’m up against. A tiny little girl, maybe five, is hiding behind her hands, her curly pigtails bouncing around her face. She has a massive case of the giggles. Yes, I need overtime pay for this. Big time. I swallow, trying to remember the last time I saw, let alone interacted with a child. I don’t recall when that was. Just another reminder of how intimidating this fatherhood thing could end up being.

“Play with me?” The pint-sized girl peeks out between her itty-bitty fingers and flashed a wide gap-toothed grin.

Suddenly, a new realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

One of these days I’m going to have one of these.

A real-life kid.

A little girl or boy. One who can turn out to be just as messed up as his old man.

I probably shouldn’t be a father. I’ve already fucked up my life.

Too bad I don’t get a say in the matter.

“I got to get back to work. Uh, bye kid.” I hurry down the hallway toward the nearest bathroom.

Hurling in a client’s bathroom is sure to be frowned upon, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it. When I think I’m done, I grip the sides of the toilet, hoping. Maybe Molly’s test result is really a false positive. If it is, we can go back to our normal, to living as though we only have ourselves to take care of, and I don’t mean as a team, but as independent individuals. Wishing for our fucked-up definition of the usual feels better than the idea of impending terror due to a brand new little human being who poops, spits up, whines, squeaks and cries for hours at a time, and needs me.

Something about that thought makes me pretty confident I can’t get away with spending all my free time downstairs in the clubhouse soothing myself with whiskey while Molly is upstairs tending to a child. I should know. Maybe this is a ‘sins of the father’ kind of deal, seeing that I was abandoned by my father before I could remember. My past increases the odds that my kid will turn out truly fucked up as an adult. I have, because of my past, so all the wishful thinking in the world may not help my child to escape his fate. What’s sad is the idea of having a child in my life sounds better and better as I weigh the options. Then it looks worse and worse.

I’m almost glad it’s not my decision to make.

Returning to the job I was hired to do, I put it out of my mind as long as the time it takes to have what I’m sure is another panic attack.

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.

On my way past their shopping cart from the opposite direction, I find and carefully pull out a needle partially hidden under an end cap. A tranquilizer or two would be enough to take Axe down. Jett has pulled so much crap that I wouldn’t put it past him to have gone to this extreme. He blew up my ride, for fuck’s sake.

So where did he take them and why would he bother to carry an unconscious Axe with him if he only wants Molly?

I take a look at the time. It has been eight minutes since I called 911. I need to disappear. Carefully pocketing the syringe, I hurry back to the truck, roll Axe’s bike on the truck bed, and head to the clubhouse.

Finding and rescuing Molly and Axe will take all the help we can gather up.