Chapter Nineteen

Tracker

 

 

 

 

I slam my phone down on the bar.

“Where's the fire, brother?” Storm looks over at me from his stool, draining his beer and signaling to one of the girls for another.

“Megan left me a message that her car had a flat. I’ve called her back five fucking times but she isn’t answering. Colt was in town so I asked him to drive by. He said her car is there, but she isn’t, and I’ve got this feeling I can’t shake.” I pace the floor, not knowing what to do next.

“Why don’t you have the IT guy see if he can trace her phone. What’s his name? Wrench, is it?” Storm nods toward where the brothers’ rooms are.

“All right, I’ll start there.” I walk toward his room. I’m not a guy prone to panicking, but I just got her back—I can’t lose her again.

I knock on the door but there’s no answer.

“Tracker.” I turn to see Cutter walking toward me. “Wrench is out on a run. You need something?”

Of course, he is. I tell Cutter about what's going on. “I don't know what to do at this point. I need to find her.” The sharp pain in my chest only becomes stronger. It feels like I have a knife stuck in me and with each minute someone twists it further and further.

My phone rings and I tug it out of my back pocket. “Megan?”

“Nope, just me,” Chrissy answers, the clattering of dishes in the background. My heart sinks. “When are you guys gonna be back? I was gonna order some food.”

“Have you talked to Megan at all today?” I blurt out, heading back down the corridor toward my bike.

The line goes quiet. “Um, no. Everything okay?”

“I don’t know where she is. I can’t say for sure, but I think something happened.”

I hate admitting that I’m helpless. That something could be wrong and all I can do is stand here. When Megan and I were together before, I could always tell that something was wrong. It was a sinking feeling in my gut, and I was always right.

That feeling is stronger than ever right now.

“I can track her phone if you want.”

I stop in my tracks. “You can do that?”

“It’s this app we have, ‘Find My Friends.’ We downloaded it in college after a safety seminar. Let me pull it up and I’ll text you where she is.”

“That would be great, thanks, Chrissy.”

“Can you just keep me updated?” Her voice has a small tremble in it.

“No problem.” I hang up and stare at my phone until I get a text.

Chrissy: It doesn’t give me an exact address but it looks like the phone is around Oak and Maple Street.

I tap the address into my phone. Half an hour away.

“I got a location on her,” I call to Cutter. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“I’m gonna come with you. Storm.” Storm looks up. “Get your bike and come with.” The large biker doesn’t question the order, just hops down from his stool and pulls out his keys. Cutter turns to me, his hand coming to squeeze my shoulder. “Not saying there’ll be trouble, but there’s no telling what the hell we’ll find. Better to be prepared.”

We head out, and as the wind whips my face, the roar of my engine ringing in my ears, all I can pray for is that Megan is okay. She has to be. I keep racking my brain, trying to figure out what could have happened. There isn’t anything going on with the club right now that would put her in danger, and in the four months I’ve spent getting to know her again, I’ve realized she doesn’t have any enemies.

Everything inside of me is hoping that I'm overreacting; that I'll get to her and nothing will be wrong.

My gut tells me I'm kidding myself.

Fuck.

I’m pushing the speed limit and the guys are keeping up with me. When we finally get to the neighborhood I realize it’s where Megan and I used to live. This was our town; our street.

Why the hell would she be here?

I don’t even know what I’m looking for. There are a few cars on the street, but everything seems normal.

“I’m gonna call her phone again.” I pull the phone from my ear trying to listen for a ringing somewhere. There’s nothing to start, then I hear the faintest chime.

“We need to find that phone.”

When her voicemail picks up, I dial again. The three of us spread out. A car pulls up to a house and a middle-aged couple get out, their backs to us. I watch them, something about them familiar. They walk into the house across the street.

My old house.

“It’s here.” Storm shouts over to me, peering in through the window of a non-descript sedan. I race over, seeing Megan’s purse in the back seat, the contents spread across the floor.

Two loud pops crackle through the air.

Gunshots.

My chest seizes. It’s not a new sound to me, but hearing it so close to where Megan is, brings a cold sweat to the surface of my skin. I look at the guys. “It came from that house.” Cutter nods to my old house.

“That’s the house we used to live in.”

I move across the street, keeping low, out of sight. I get to the fence, I stop. Cutter comes up behind me and Storm takes his position on the other side of the gate. “I’ll go in the front. You guys take the back door.”

Cutter and Storm nod.

I can hear yelling as I creep up the steps. With my back to the wall, I glance into the window.

Megan.

She’s on a couch, tears streaming down her face. Her lips are moving like she’s talking, but from this angle I can’t see anyone in the room with her.

Fuck.

I send Storm a quick text, letting him know she’s in there.

My hand goes to the doorknob and I turn, feeling it click and open. One push and the door swings wide open.

Whoever is in there will regret the day they decided to fuck with my girl.