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“I can’t find Harley,” I explained, my voice shaking with fear as tears welled up in my eyes. “They were both playing with each other and when I called them to come inside, only Davidson came.”
“You weren’t watching them?” Yarder asked.
I thinned my lips. “I was, but they went to the far corner of the fence, and that is when I called them,” I explained. It had been maybe ten seconds that I couldn’t see them.
Pirate’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the area, his expression hardening with determination. “We’ll find her,” he vowed, his voice filled with resolve as he began searching the surrounding area.
Minutes felt like hours as we combed the area, calling out for Harley in desperation. And then, just as hope was beginning to fade, Pirate’s voice rang out through the darkness on the other side of the fence.
“I found her!” he called, his voice filled with relief as he emerged from the shadows with Harley in his arms.
Yarder rushed forward, scooping Harley into his arms, and held her close. But as he did, he noticed something pinned to her collar—a small piece of paper with a chilling message.
“You should be more careful,” Yarder read aloud, his voice filled with rage as he crumpled the note in his fist.
My heart clenched with fear.
Yarder’s anger erupted in a flurry of curses, but I knew it wasn’t aimed at me. It was directed at the faceless enemies who dared to threaten our safety.
“Get in the clubhouse now,” Yarder commanded, thrusting Harley into my arms and summoning Davidson to follow him. He hurried me inside, gripping my hand tightly as he propelled us down the hallway, pounding on doors to rouse the guys as we made our way to our room.
“What the hell is going on?” a bleary-eyed Compass questioned as he opened his door, eyeing Harley’s restlessness in my arms. “She okay?” he inquired, concern furrowing his brow.
Yarder was in no mood for explanations. “Get dressed and meet me in church. Tell everyone else,” he ordered briskly.
Compass nodded understandingly, sensing the urgency of the situation without needing anymore explanation.
Yarder pushed open our door, and Davidson trotted in. I set Harley down while Yarder closed the door behind us.
“Please don’t be mad at me, Yarder,” I pleaded, anticipating his frustration.
“No,” he interjected firmly, cutting me off.
I stepped in front of him, hands on my hips.
“You know not to leave this clubhouse unless one of us is with you,” he lectured sternly.
“I didn’t think taking Harley and Davidson outside was a big deal. I didn’t want to wake you up,” I defended myself. “I thought I could handle taking two puppies to tinkle.”
“Wake me up, Poppy! Goddamn! You think I would rather have ten extra minutes of sleep instead of knowing you’re safe?” he snapped, his frustration palpable.
“Well, no, but I didn’t think anything was going to happen,” I countered, feeling a pang of guilt.
Yarder gestured towards the backyard. “Do you understand what just happened?” he demanded. “Someone took one of the dogs to put a note on them. A note to fucking taunt us! Do you know how easy it could have been for them to harm you? Who knows if that was what they were going to do, but I came outside and scared them away.”
A wave of fear washed over me as Yarder’s words sank in. “I-I hadn’t thought about that,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the situation crashing down on me.
Yarder ran his hands through his hair, pacing with restless energy. “I can’t even be that mad at you, Poppy. I’m furious at these assholes who keep threatening us,” he seethed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “My goddamn woman can’t go in the damn backyard without someone threatening her!”
As panic threatened to overwhelm me and I struggled to breathe, Yarder finally noticed my distress and enveloped me in his arms. “Shh, babe, you’re okay,” he reassured me, his embrace a comforting anchor. “I wasn’t yelling at you.”
Tears pricked at my eyes as Yarder’s presence helped to quell the rising panic, his soothing words and steady heartbeat grounding me in reality.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.
Yarder pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. “It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, his touch a balm to my frayed nerves.
Looking up at him, I sought reassurance in his gaze. “Now what?” I asked, feeling vulnerable and uncertain.
