Page 71 of Blue

“Goddamnit. I think you got it in my hair.”

Join the club, dickhead.

This was really happening. Dylan would watch her die.

Her heart plummeted as she retched again. Her knees pulled her forward, and her body contracted.

He was murdering her.

CHAPTER 24

Mooky

Mooky couldn’t leave her car. He hoped she’d come out of the store and give him hell for stalking her or something. At least, then, he’d know for a fact he had overreacted and she was okay.

Except it didn’t happen.

Every moment that ticked by and she didn’t appear, bag in hand, was agony.

He couldn’t stand still. He must have circled her car thirty times, checking it for anything. He hadn’t a clue what to look for, but he did it anyway. Peeking in all the windows, checking for the slightest clue as to where she could have gone.

Nothing.

Purse on the passenger seat. Wallet out and phone in the cupholder.

Not one sign of what happened or where she went.

She was gone.

The familiar rumbling of Harleys grew louder as they came closer. He’d seen crotch rockets and Hondas roll by, but there was nothing like the sound of a Harley-Davidson. He recognized when his brothers were around. They made their own sweet music.

Dash and Mittens pulled into the lot and parked their bikes beside Mooky’s.

The relief from seeing his brothers coming to help didn’t come. Every worst-case scenario played through his mind—taunting him with the worst unspeakable possibilities.

Bile rose in his throat, threatening to shoot out past his lips at the thought of her lying in a ditch somewhere.

Not Blue.

She deserved better. She had so much life left to live.

“She’s just gone?” Dash asked as he stalked around the car the same way Mooky had.

Mooky ran a hand through his hair anxiously. “Into fucking thin air, apparently.”

Nervous energy surged through him. His fidgeting wouldn’t stop. He cracked his knuckles and stuffed his hands in his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. He was a man of action. Standing around and doing squadoosh wasn’t his style. Yet, there he was, with nothing to fucking do.

He needed direction, and that had to come from his VP.

The front of his jeans vibrated. Fishing in his pocket, he glanced at his brothers. “Did you tell Clark?”

Who else would call him?

Mammoth. Something wrong with the shop?

Nah, he could handle things.

Star?

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