Chapter 12
Beth
The first thing I hear when I wake is Patch’s steady breathing against my shoulder. Sunlight edges in through the curtains. For a moment, I don’t move. I’m too warm and comfortable. Closing my eyes, I relax and think back on what happened last night.
We chose each other. No more arranged marriage on paper. It’s an arranged forever marriage, just like I always dreamed about with Patch. And I couldn’t be happier.
My muscles ache in a way that feels good. Going from no sex to sex three times in a night was a complete body workout for me.
Patch shifts behind me, one arm slipping over my waist, pulling me closer to his big, tatted-up body. The scrape of his beard stubble brushes the back of my neck. “What are you thinking so hard about?” he murmurs.
I smile without meaning to. “I’m worried that I’ll wake up one day some place I don’t want to be and this time with you will be nothing but a wonderful dream.”
“Don’t worry about shit like that, ‘cause it’s never going to happen.” He kisses my shoulder, a soft press that makes my chest tighten.
“I’ll try to think about something else then. Maybe how amazing things are gonna be when we’re able to put this whole mess behind us.”
We just stay that way, cuddling together for a long moment.
Then he speaks, his voice filled with amusement.
“You might have shifted gears, but our future happiness was not what you were thinking. I heard you in my mind going on and on about how great I am at doling out orgasms to virgins, and it was making me blush.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes from my lips. “You are pretty amazing at the most important husbandly responsibility. I’ll have to give you that.”
He pulls me closer and slides his hand up to cup one breast. “I love that you joke back with me.”
I turn over and smile up at him. “I happen to like your sense of humor. I got myself a pretty damn good husband.”
He studies me for a long moment before answering. “Thanks, wife. I fuckin’ love the way that sounds.”
I’m glad we chose each other. “Was it good for you? I mean, we both know it was good for me because you’re so great at giving orgasms.”
His mouth curves in that slow, quiet way of his. “You already know it was, darlin’.”
He rolls out of bed and stands, reaching for his jeans at the foot of the bed. All the amazing tattoos on his back are on full display. Underneath the tats, he’s got a strong, athletic build. He pulls the jeans on and glances back at me.
“You want coffee?”
“Always.”
He disappears into the kitchen. I can hear the sound of cupboards opening, the tap of mugs on the counter, the scrape of a toaster lever.
I drag myself out of bed, get a quick shower, and get dressed.
When I finally join Patch downstairs, he’s leaning against the counter, shirtless, with his hair pulled back into a loose tie.
Steam rises from two mugs sitting on the counter next to a plate of toast with butter slowly melting into the cracks.
His sweetness makes something inside me melt for him.
“You need to eat,” he says. “You barely touched dinner yesterday.”
“I was too nervous to eat.”
He passes me the mug he made for me. The coffee smells strong enough to wake the dead. I take a sip and watch him over the rim. The corners of his mouth twitch like he knows I’m staring.
He takes a bite of toast and leans his hip against the counter. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah. I was too exhausted to even dream.”
“You can thank me for that later,” he teases as he chews on his food.
I set the toast down and meet his eyes. “I’m worried all this is going to disappear and you’re going to say it was a mistake one day.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m not going to do that. You’ve got enough problems without inventing things to worry about.”
I look down at my plate, throat tight. “Even if you don’t think you will, you could still change your mind.”
He reaches across the counter, hooks a finger under my chin, and lifts my head to meet his eyes, lifting until I have to meet his gaze. “I already made my choice. I chose you. I won’t change my mind. I promise.”
Before I can respond, his phone buzzes on the counter.
He frowns and picks it up. When the screen lights, his face pales.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Missed calls,” he says, scrolling. “Two from the care home. One from Serena.”
The coffee turns bitter in my mouth. “Call them back.”
He nods, puts the phone on speaker, and hits redial. It rings once, then a woman’s voice answers.
“Thank God you called back,” she says. “It’s about Lila. Her father signed her out this morning against medical advice.”
My mug slips from my hand and hits the counter hard enough to splash coffee across the tile.
The nurse keeps talking. “We couldn’t stop him, he showed us the papers saying he had authority.
We tried to talk to him about continuity of care, but he brushed it off, saying he had it covered.
He threatened to call the police if we didn’t comply.
Lila was crying, saying she didn’t want to go.
The attending physician filed an APS report because he couldn’t articulate a reasonable plan of care for her in the home environment.
They’re already reviewing it, but God only knows how long it will take for them to make a decision. ”
Patch glances at me. “When did this happen?”
“About two hours ago,” the nurse says. “He said he was taking her home, but we haven’t been able to reach him since.”
“Do you have that APS case number?”
The nurse gives it, her voice still sounding a little panicked. He jots it on a yellow sticky note, writing small, precise letters.
“Do you have any record of precisely where he said he was taking her, as in an actual address?” Patch asks.
“No, Dr. Patchett. He said he was taking her home, but didn’t specify which address. His file still lists his residence as Las Salinas.”
“He won’t go back there,” I whisper. “He knows that’s the first place we’ll look.”
Patch looks at me, then speaks into the phone again. “Thanks for the information. Please forward a copy of the AMA form and any surveillance footage from this morning to my email. We’ll coordinate with APS.”
“I’ll send it right away.”
I slide down the cabinet until I’m sitting on the tile, knees to my chest. My throat burns. “She can’t be in a house. She needs constant care. She needs the monitors, the sterile tubing, everything.”
“We’ll find her,” he states firmly.
“What papers?” I ask. “The judge said that he was granting the injunction, she was to stay at the care home.”
Patch looks at me, and I can see the anger and frustration in his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m guessing he got his attorney to draw up something that looked official. He knew to try and remove her early in the morning when the night staff were still there and no one would ask questions. Damn it!”
“He won’t know what to do. He’ll forget her meds, or…” My voice breaks. “He’s got a bad temper. I’m worried he might hurt her.”
Patch crouches beside me and takes my face in both hands. “Hey. Look at me.”
I do as he says, but it all seems so hopeless.
“We’ll find her,” he repeats. “But I need you not to check out on me. Do you understand?”
I nod, unable to make words right now.
“Good.” He presses his forehead to mine for a heartbeat. “We start now.”
He stands, grabs his phone, and starts calling everyone.
First, he calls Serena, then Siege. “Emergency situation. He removed Lila against medical advice, waved some fake papers and scared the shit out of the night staff. An APS report is already in progress.” He pauses, listens, nods.
“We’ll meet you at the clubhouse in twenty. ”
He hangs up, scrolling to the next number.
Puts it on speaker and dials. “Zen, I need a trace on anything with that asshole’s name attached.
Phone records, credit cards, gas receipts, even look at camera feeds near the facility, you might be able to spot his vehicle.
You’ve already got details on his car, but he might have hired a van. ”
A low electronic hum crackles from the speaker as Zen answers, half-awake but already typing. “On it, Patch. You’ll have something by the time you roll up to the clubhouse.”
Patch pockets the phone, then turns back to me. I’m still on the floor, trying to get myself together. He crouches again, thumb brushing the edge of my jaw.
“Get your shoes,” he says gently. “We’re riding now.”
I nod and push myself up. My hands won’t stop trembling when I reach for my sneakers. I push forward anyhow.
While I tie my laces, Patch moves through the house with quiet precision.
***
Bikes are all lined up in front of the building when we arrive at the clubhouse.
Patch parks the bike, and I quickly climb off with my helmet under my arm and follow him through the side door.
I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack, but somehow, I manage to keep control of my rising anxiety.
The last thing I want is to divert the focus from finding Lila to dealing with me.
When we get into the meeting room, a long table is already set up with a map, two laptops, and a half-dozen phones.
Siege is standing at the head of the table with one hand on the back of a chair, watching everyone gather around.
Smoke is sitting to his right alongside Serena.
Rigs leans back in his seat, but his eyes are laser focused on one of the laptops Zen has set up.
Meanwhile, Zen has his bag open and cords snaking across the table.
He is already typing on another laptop. Several screens are glowing in front of him.
Crow steps into the room from the hallway with his phone to his ear.
He lifts his chin at me in a quiet greeting.
Finally, Siege speaks up, “You got any movement on that van you’ve been tracking, Zen?”