Page 51

51

FORD

I should have fucking known.

The second I agreed to let Gram take Harper out for one night of “wedding fun,” I sealed my fate.

I’ve been pacing the fucking floor, my phone clutched so tight in my hand it’s a miracle I haven’t shattered it.

No texts.

No calls.

No updates.

I don’t like that shit.

I don’t like not knowing where she is.

I don’t like not being able to touch her .

I don’t like the idea of any other man looking at her, breathing in her direction, existing in the same goddamn city as her.

And yet, here I am.

Letting this shit happen.

"Jesus Christ, Ford," Cole mutters from the couch, nursing a glass of whiskey. "If you don’t sit the fuck down, I’m gonna have to sedate you."

I turn slowly, danger boiling inside my veins. “You want to try?”

Jake sighs, rubbing his temples. “It’s a bachelorette party. She’s fine.”

Fine?

Fine?

My wife is out there, unsupervised, and Jake wants me to believe she’s fine?

"She’s with Gram," Daltyn adds, kicking his feet up on the table. "And Allie. Nothing bad is happening." He stares at me for a moment. “Or going to happen.”

I glare. "That’s exactly why I have a fucking problem."

Connor waltzes in, way too smug for my liking. "Speaking of bachelorette parties, guess what I just saw?"

He smirks, pulling out his phone.

He flips it around, showing me a picture of Harper.

My pulse halts.

She’s in a bar.

Wearing my shirt.

And nothing else.

Her legs are bare.

Her thighs are showing.

Some fucking asshole in the background is looking at her like he wants to die tonight.

I nearly put my fist through the fucking wall.

"Where is she?" My voice is pure murder.

Connor grins. “Ohhh, I don’t know if I should tell you that, big guy. Seems like you need to work on your trust issues.”

Jake snorts. “He’s about to have murder issues.”

I step forward. "Connor."

He laughs .

This motherfucker laughs, like this is a game.

Like I won’t bury him in the desert and still make it to my wedding on time.

“Relax, Romeo,” Connor says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “She’s having fun. Gram is leading a table dance."

I blink.

What the fuck?

“Also, Allie may or may not have encouraged Harper to do a shot off a stranger’s abs."

I see red.

Harper.

My Harper pressed against some bastard who doesn’t know his place?

I crack my neck, rolling my shoulders, preparing for war.

Daltyn sighs. “Here we go.”

Jake downs his drink. “Should we try to stop him?”

Connor shrugs. “I’m just here for the entertainment.”

I’m already grabbing my keys, storming out the door.

If one single motherfucker so much as touched her, they’re going to regret the day they were fucking born!