Page 53 of Tracked By Sasquatch

He strode to his bike and took off. He’d head to the Omaha clubhouse. He needed to rest before dealing with Croon and Devin’s mother. He was bone tired by the time he arrived. He fell face first into an available bed and slept like the dead for hours.

So long, Devin would be over halfway back home by the time he woke. Which worked for him, he’d wait until after dark.

The first thing he did was check his messages. Devin, Scott, and Croon had all messaged him, but the missed call from his prez took priority. He’d given him a quick update call on the way back to the clubhouse, but Zombie probably wanted the finer points from him, although Squatch knew Irish would’ve given him the rundown.

He hit the call button. Zombie didn’t bother with a greeting. “You good?” he asked, concerned with Squatch’s mental health.

“I’m good, Prez. Thanks. Did Dev call Croon yet?” He wondered how she was holding up.

“Yeah, they talked. I heard they got on the road around breakfast time. When are you heading back?”

He wouldn’t lie to his prez.

“As soon as I handle something that’s overdue, then I’ll get freshened up and hit the road.”

“Is it what I think it is?”

His answer was going to cost him, he was sure.

“Yeah.”

“Were you planning to ask permission or…?”

He paused a second. “She’s my ol’ lady, and when you find out what was done to her, you’ll know I won’t need to ask forgiveness either.” He was trying to watch his words so they couldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

“That bad?”

“Worse.”

“What about Croon?”

“When he finds out, he’ll ride like a bat out of hell to do it, but he shouldn’t have to, Prez.”

Zombie let out a long breath. “Agreed, Enforcer.”

Thank fuck.

“Take care, Squatch.”

The text from Scott was basically that Dev was safe and what time they’d gotten on the road.

Dev’s text was sweet and spoke to his soul.

MY OL’ LADY: Do what you need to do but keep the man I love safe.

It was right there, glowing words on his screen. She loved him. His fingers itched to type it back. He wanted to so bad, but he didn’t want the first time he said it to her to be in a text. She deserved face to face, with fireworks and a marching band, but he’d settle for face to face, under the stars, with some metal playing in the background. That was more their speed anyway.

SQUATCH: Pinky promise, my little pudding cup. Will be there by Friday. Stay at the clubhouse, not your place? The thought of you waiting naked in my bed will have me eating up the asphalt between here and Provo, might even make it by Thursday night if you send me a selfie in those socks.

MY OL’ LADY: Oh, my cuddly cryptid, the socks are earned, not given. Gimme an hour heads up I’ll meet you there, I’m really not looking to spend the night there.

Squatch mused it might be time to start looking for a place away from the clubhouse.

SQUATCH: Will do. I’ll be radio silent until then.

By the time he made his way to the common area he noticed Nitro was back, likely had been so for a while.

While he was getting geared up Nitro spoke.