Page 33 of Existential
A woman who loves you through thick and thin.
A kid who adores you.
A family who’d miss you if you were gone.
I down the fresh whiskey in one gulp as I rise to my feet. A ride will do me good; a chance to get away from the bullshit and appreciate nature for a while. Making a mental note to let Crackers know King is coming down, I snag my keys and head for the door when a shrill tone sounds from my desk. It takes me a second to remember what the hell it is, but once I do, I whip around the timber desk and retrieve the burner from the drawer before it goes to voicemail. Forgot to pocket the damn thing when I got back from seeing Dagne off.
Distracted much?
“Go ahead.”
“Hooch?”
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s going on?” Traffic burns past in the background.
“I’ve got a bit of a problem.” Her voice wavers, and damn it all if that doesn’t make me feel the need to be there in person rather than sorting this over the phone.
“What’s the issue?”
“I got pulled over.”
“What the fuck for?” I pace to the door and lift my cut off the hook, awkwardly looping it over my arms as I shuffle the phone between my hands.
“I don’t know,” Dagne cries. “I wasn’t speeding, I obeyed all the road rules. They just stripped the truck and then told me to pass on a message.”
“What did they say?”
She hesitates, her breath shuddering. “They said to tell the biker bitches they’re watching you,” she repeats quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, baby girl.” It’s fucking Donovan’s. Asshole. “It was meant to shake me up. Are you okay to carry on?”
“That wasn’t all, Hooch.”
Damn it.What now? “They hurt you?”
“Not really.” I don’t miss the curiosity in her tone. Yeah, I would have delivered a healthy serving of retribution if they had. “They took your message.”
Fuck. I back up two steps and drop my ass to the front of the desk. “How long ago?”
“They just left, like ten minutes ago. I put all the stuff back in the truck before I rang you so it didn’t blow away or anything.”
“Sure, that’s fine. You did the right thing, Dagne.” Shit, shit, shit. “Where are you?”
“I’m not sure. Hold on.”
Scratches come through the line, the sound of the truck door opening, and then the muted traffic that indicates she’s inside the cab now. I pace the whole time, the seconds feeling like eons.
“The GPS says I’m just outside Gainesville. I’m not real familiar with this part of the country.”
“All good. I’ll be there shortly.” Thank fuck for small miracles, huh? Any further up the road and this could have got inconvenient fast. “Just sit tight.”
“I’ll pull off the next exit and message you the number.”
“Perfect.” Girl’s thinking. “I’m sorry this happened.”
“Hey, it’s not like you sent them after me, is it?” she tries to joke.
“Yeah.”
But I may as well have.