6. I Have To Find Her
Chapter 6
I Have To Find Her
HUNTER
T he metal shovel weighs heavily in my hands as I use it to penetrate the dry top layer of earth underneath my boots.
“I can do it, boss,” Lars offers.
“No, it’s my job to do,” I tell him because it’s the truth.
I haven’t cried in probably twenty years, I’m not even sure that I did back then, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop the tears from running down my face.
I’m a fuck up.
A failure.
I had one job, to protect the woman I love, and I couldn’t even get that right.
“We’ll be here all day if you keep up like this, and we aren’t even sure if she’s here. Give me the shovel.”
The conflict rages inside of me.
On one hand, I pray that she’s not buried in this desolate area, on the side of the road, as if she’s just a piece of trash. As if she isn’t my entire world. But then, on the other hand, a little piece of me is dying inside with every minute that passes, and I don’t know where she is.
I have to find her.
After handing Lars the shovel and basically collapsing in an area of brush, I rest my head in my hands and begin sobbing like a child.
I am a total wreck.
What the fuck am I going to do without her?
A sudden harsh sound jars me awake in the passenger seat of the truck and for a brief moment, I don’t know where I am. My eyes open against a glass window and all I see in front of me is a stretch of unfamiliar highway.
“Lars?” I say in a sleepy voice as I try to get my bearings. “What the fuck did you give me?” I ask accusingly, not understanding why I feel so groggy but also very glad it was a nightmare.
Megan is not dead, I repeat to myself. Megan is not dead.
“You haven’t slept in days. You need the rest.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I just dropped a bit of tincture in your drink.”
“What kind of tincture?”
“A THC mixture.”
“You put weed in my cranberry juice? How long have I been out? I should shove your head through that fucking window.”
“If you do that, then you’ll never figure out where we’re headed, and that would be a goddamn shame.”
“I already know where we’re going. The airport.”
I check my phone to see if I’ve got any messages from the club or anything from Megan. I’m desperate for any news at all as I continue to vacillate between wanting to choke the life out of every human being who isn’t Megan or crumbling into a puddle of hopeless mush.
“Negative.”
“What?”
“We’re not going to New Orleans because she isn’t there.”
“Stop the fucking car, Lars.”
Lars swings our heavy black SUV over on the shoulder of the road and it’s only now that I notice the worry lines etched across his face as well.
“I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure, but I had Vaughn check all the trackers on the cars.”
“Okay?”
“A tracker is moving in Arizona.”
I don’t do any business in Arizona, so there’s only one reason why one of my cars would be there.
I don’t want to even say it.
But the truth is staring both of us in the faces.
“Is it Parker?”
“It’s the same sedan he always drives, the one he used to drop you off at the apartment,” Lars says somberly. “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions as to why, but Parker is in Arizona, but for some reason, I think it may have something to do with Megan.”
“He’s in my car but not picking up his phone?”
“I know it seems suspicious, but Parker’s a good kid. Maybe he saw Megan getting abducted and is following them on his own.”
“Like fucking Batman, Lars? Yeah, I don’t think so. She called the club and spoke to Christian, scared as fuck, confirming that Fabre has her.”
“I said that he may be following them, not that he’s saved her yet.”
I call Vaughn annoyed with Lars's farfetched theories.
“Hey.”
“Lars told me about the tracker.”
“I wondered what was taking you so long to call me about it.”
I give Lars the side eye.
“Someone got the bright idea to drug me.”
Lars looks away from me in what I hope is remorse, but knowing him, he feels nothing of the sort.
“The good news is that the tracker has stopped moving for about an hour now. It looks like Parker made a stop to eat. It’s the only thing close by in the location the tracker is beaming from. If you haul ass, you should be able to catch up to him.”
“Lars, how long have you been driving?”
“All night, boss. We’re close.”
“Are we even in Arizona?”
I look up at the green highway signs and don’t recognize any of the exit names or route numbers. All I see are mountains in shades of burnt sienna and rust. We could still be in California, or it could well be Arizona. I have no idea.
“We are.”
“Fabre hasn’t called with any sort of terms?” I ask Vaughn.
“Nothing.”
I tap my foot, frustrated with this whole scenario.
“How’s Lena?”
“She’s holding up okay. Obviously, she’s worried about Megan and you, but she’s been coming to work and keeping busy.”
“You’re keeping an eye on her?”
Vaughn pauses for a moment, then answers, “Uh, Christian is making sure she gets to and from work safely.”
I turn my head to look back for the other security team, but I don’t see Jim or the car.
“Where’s Jim and Cecil?” I ask out loud, expecting an answer from whichever of them can tell me.
“They had to take a break. They were both wiped. But they’re not too far behind us.”
“I don’t pay them to take breaks. My pregnant fiancee is missing!”
I pound my fist against the dashboard to emphasize my point.
“Whatever we find when we get to Arizona, the two of us can handle until they get there,” Lars says assuredly. “We’ve done it before.”
“Stay strong, Hunt,” Vaughn says through the speaker on the phone, almost forgetting he was on the line. “You’re going to find her.”
“She’s in trouble, Vaughn. I can feel it.”
I reflect back on the pieces of my nightmare that I can remember. At first, I took it literally and thought it was her signaling me from her grave, but maybe it was just a vibration of her distress she was transmitting.
“Is the tracker still transmitting from the same location?” Lars asks out loud so Vaughn can hear.
“Still there. And based on your location, you’re only ten minutes away!”
“He could have dumped the car, remembering there’s a tracker,” I say, praying for the opposite to be true but preparing myself for the worst.
“We’ll find out in five minutes, my friend,” Lars says with determination, pushing his foot heavier on the gas pedal to get us there faster.
I take a deep breath and visualize Megan’s sweet face in my mind’s eye. The way her face looks at peace when she’s sleeping. The secret kisses I gave her abdomen, hoping that the baby growing inside of her would feel my presence.
In five minutes I’m going to know more than I did five minutes ago, baby, and then I’m going to find you.
Don’t give up on me.
I’m coming.
A sense of relief washes over me when Lars and I see the blue sign for the upcoming rest stop. We’re moving at an ungodly speed over the entrance ramp and into the parking lot. I remind myself to make a mental note to upgrade our tracker system. If I had the more advanced model, I’d be able to pinpoint the exact location of my car in an application on my phone. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.
“I’ll go in the building and check the restaurants and the bathroom,” I say checking to make sure my gun is locked and loaded. “You look for the car.”
Lars stares disapprovingly as I place my gun in the waistband of my slacks.
“What?” I snap at him.
“Be careful and keep a low profile. The goal is to get information. We don’t know what happened yet.”
I don’t have time to get into a war of words with Lars. While I understand that he feels some sort of responsibility for Parker because he’s the one on my team who spends the most time with him, I don’t give a shit about any of that.
All I want is Megan back.
And with all of my years of experience in the Los Angeles underworld, my gut is telling me that Parker is not running towards something but running away.
I move with stealthiness through the small rest area scanning the open space from left to right. It reminds me of my days when I was new to the organization, and it was my job to do the grunt work.
Parker has a distinctive walk, and I’d know it anywhere, but I don’t see anyone with his same gait. I approach a woman with aged skin and long silver hair who’s crouched in a small spot in between two stores selling a variety of Native American pottery. I notice that she’s watching everyone coming and going in a very deliberate way.
“Excuse me, but I’m looking for this man. Have you seen him in here today?”
The woman looks at my phone and then back up at me. “Why are you looking for him?”
“My wife is missing and I think he may have some idea on where to find her.”
“Oh, that’s grave indeed.”
“It is.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Technically, she’s my fiancee,” I admit, feeling badly that I’ve stretched the truth for some reason. Maybe because the woman reminds me of someone’s grandmother.
“Let me see the photo again.” She stands. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
“Of course.”
After a moment, I watch as her eyes squint and shift to the left corner of the room.
“Pretty sure your guy was over at Coffee Junction about fifteen minutes ago,” she says.
“Thank you,” I say gratefully, handing her a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “This is for your time.”
It takes everything for me not to run over to the small eatery. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself just in case he considers scurrying out of here if he sees me.
My eyes bulge at my discovery once I grow closer.
What in the actual fuck?
Not only is Parker sitting at a bistro table sipping on a goddamn latte, but Megan, my Megan, is sitting across from him as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.
I plunk myself down on a free chair at the table, startling them both. It’s not like Parker to be so off his game. He should have seen me coming if he was paying any attention to his surroundings. Instead, all of his concentration seems to be centered on my fiancee. The woman I thought was in dire straits under Fabre’s thumb. The center of my world.
“Well, isn’t this fucking cozy.”