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A weary look flits across Holton’s face, and he sighs, scrubbing his eyes with his hand. “That changes things.”
He’s fucking right it does. There’s now a sense of charged urgency around the table.
“I’ll call Nan. Maybe she can trace her phone or track her online movements. At the very least, she can check CCTV,” Strafe suggests.
“We should contact the other chapters,” Killer pipes up, nodding to me. “Put the word out that one of our women is missing. In case something fucked up is going on. If someone is targeting Wild Hawks women, they need to know.”
Gritting my teeth, I nod, trying Naomi again as the boys call their old ladies around the table, checking in and asking if Naomi has been in contact. Head shake after head shake stabs at my heart. Where the fuck are you, Peaches? Pulling out my phone, I call her again.
“Hey, this is Naomi. Leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
Blowing out a breath, I hang up without a message. I’ll find you, Peaches. I’ll bring you home safely.
Chapter 18
NAOMI
My nose wrinkles and something vibrates under me. My head is aching, and I force my eyes open, blinking and squinting against the harsh sunlight flashing on my face. Ow. My breath hisses between my teeth as I probe the sizable goose egg above my right temple under my hair.
Struggling to sit upright, I blink and look around, my surroundings coming into focus. I’m slumped across a pair of semi-uncomfortable seats covered in royal blue fabric upholstery with a colorful squiggle pattern - designed to hide a multitude of sins. Ew.
The sun is beating through the huge glass windows of the bus, and I stare out across the desert, my eyes flickering over the scrubby vegetation scattered across the red sandy dirt. My heart thumps, and my mouth is dry. This isn’t the Mojave. It’s too red.
Hauling myself to my feet, I suck in a deep breath, clinging to the headrest of the seat in front of me until the dizziness and the piercingly sharp pain shooting through my head fade.
When I’m sure I won’t collapse if I let go of the seat, I stumble along the aisle toward the front of the bus.
“Hey! No standing while we’re moving! Sit down!” the driver hollers over his shoulder. I stagger to a halt, grabbing another empty seat to steady myself. It’s not a full bus, maybe only a handful of people looking at me with varying degrees of pity and disgust.
“Wh-where are we?”
The older couple sitting close to where I have come to a halt share a judging look and start whispering to each other.
“Utah,” the driver grunts back.
My heart sinks. I nod, waving a hand at him, and stumble back to my seat, collapsing and drawing my knees to my chest, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. It doesn’t help. Black is crowding the edges of my eyes as panic presses down on my chest.
Utah. Sitting up, I press my forehead against the sun-warmed glass window, the reddish desert flashing passed. That means we crossed the Mojave and drove through the bottom point of Nevada, all while I was unconscious. How long was I out? Do I need to see a doctor?
Back home, Viper would be telling me to go to Doc Menzies to get checked out. But I would probably ask Dr. Jessup. I got comfortable with him as Mama’s doctor. I trust him. I don’t know the Wild Hawks doctor.
I need to get off at the next large bus station and get on a bus back to San Remo. This has to be some mistake. I have no idea how I got on this bus, but there must be some error. I grope around the seat and even crouch down, but I can’t find my purse. You havegotto be kidding me. Shit. Did I get robbed too? Could this day get any worse? Day. How many days has it been?
I swallow more panic, wiping my nose with the back of my hand, trying to sniff as quietly as possible. I don’t want to drawmoreattention to myself.
Taking a deep breath, I check all my pockets. My fingers close around some cash, and I blow out a breath. Thank god. I don’t usually keep some money in my pocket, but someone must be looking out for me.
Pulling it out, I look at it, disappointment swirling. A twenty. It’s better than nothing, but it’s not enough for a return ticket. Tears roll hot and fast down my cheeks. No phone, no credit card or ID. Nothing.
I can’t deny reality any longer. What the hell did Joey do? Thishasto have been her. How else did an unconscious me get on a bus to the middle of the desert in Utah? My sister is certifiably crazy. I don’t even have enough money to buyfoodfor very long. She has to intend for me to end up dead. Or worse….
I hug my knees to my chest, staring out the window. What the hell am I going to do? I need to stay alert, not squander my money, and somehow call Viper so he can come and get me. That’s the only option. He will come for me. I have to believe that. I’m his. He said so. He mademesay so.
VIPER
Two hang arounds duck out of the clubhouse bar as I stride in. Probably a good move. I broke some kid’s nose yesterday for looking at me wrong.
It’s been two fucking days, and no one has heard from or about Naomi. Striding up to the bar, I rap my knuckles, glaring at Trent as he pours a glass of whiskey.
