Page 80 of Dirty

I peered through the window again.

Nothing.

Frustrated, I stood on the porch and rubbed my hand. After a moment, I walked around the house, went to the back door, and grabbed the door handle.

Much to my surprise, it turned.

I pushed the door open a few inches. “Adam?”

Nothing.

“Adam?!”

I pushed it open a little more. “Adam?”

“I’m coming in!” I announced.

The home was eerily quiet, and I began to wonder if he had stayed home sick. For a moment I felt bad, but that would soon fade. I walked into the kitchen, then the living room, and upon seeing nothing, reluctantly walked toward his bedroom.

The bed was unmade. Beside it, in a wad, was a pair of jeans with a belt still through the loops. I picked them up, searched the pockets, and found his keys – and wallet.

Confused, I looked around the room.

Immediately in front of me was a nightstand with the drawer partially opened. I peered inside.

A pistol sat in the center of the drawer on top of a red rag.

What the…

My mind assembled the pieces and as silly as it later seemed, it took me a minute to realize that Adam was gone without his jeans, keys, shoes, wallet, motorcycle, or protection.

Wherever he was he was half-naked, shoeless, and without transportation.

And then, it hit me.

No. No. No.

“Nooooo!”

***

I hoped my memory was correct. Finding them was my only hope. I screeched around the corner as fast as my Beetle would go, and as the sight of two motorcycles came into view, my heart raced.

I sped into the lot, and before my car even came to a complete stop, I jumped out and ran into the shop.

I had no idea what the club’s procedures or rules were regarding women, but I really didn’t care.

Pee Bee stood at the far side of the shop beside Crip. Both of their eyes widened as I ran toward them, blurting out everything I knew as I approached.

“Slow down, little girl,” Crip growled. “It really doesn’t matter what you’re thinking, you can’t come here looking--”

“They took him,” I huffed.

“Who took who,” Crip asked in a snide tone.

“Adam.” I pressed my hands to my knees and fought to catch my breath. I cleared my throat. “Cholo.”

I took a deep breath. “His bike…his bike’s in the garage, his wallet…and his jeans…were on the floor of his bedroom…and his shoes were in his doorway.”