Page 39 of Wyatt (The Black Roses MC #5)

Chapter eighteen

Maizie

I t’s been four days since I got the text from Nolan and my entire world imploded.

I was so afraid that Wyatt would turn his back on me.

That’s why I didn’t tell him in the first place.

I thought if anyone found out, they would look at me with suspicion in their gaze, thinking I was somehow in cahoots with a rival club.

Wyatt made sure to put those fears to rest. But there's no getting rid of the cloud that’s hanging over all of us.

He hasn’t told me exactly what course of action the club is going to take.

Not that he doesn’t trust me, he said. He just wants to protect me from the darker parts of this life.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that means, though.

I’ve been around long enough to know that the likelihood that Nolan is going to survive this is slim to none.

He fucked up when he tried to use my kid in this fight, and I’ll have no problem making peace with whatever happens to him.

No one fucks with my son or threatens him in any way and gets away with it.

It’s been a slow night at the bar, and for that, I’m grateful.

I know the guys are taking off soon to handle business, and I want to spend as much time with Wyatt as possible before he leaves.

He’s at the clubhouse tonight, working out the logistics of their trip.

What that means, I’m not sure, but it makes me feel better that they’re planning everything up to the smallest detail.

Cece even mentioned that Jude’s brother, Liam, is coming to town and staying for a couple of days.

I wonder if that means he’s going with the guys or if he’s staying to keep an eye on things.

It takes me hardly any time at all to close the bar and lock up. When the prospect tasked with keeping an eye on the bar while I’m here walks me to my car then shuts the door for me, I pull out my phone.

Me: Headed home. You going to be home soon, too?

Last week, before shit went down with the text messages, I’d started moving my things around and making room for Wyatt in my house.

Since the day following my panic attack—when he took me to the lake and fucked me senseless against his bike—neither of us has been keeping up any sort of pretense that he doesn’t live with me and Colby now.

And I wouldn’t change that for the world.

The circumstances surrounding him moving the rest of his things into our house? Sure. But not the outcome. Never that.

Wyatt: Almost finished here, baby. I’ll be thirty minutes, tops .

Me: Okay. See you soon .

The urge to text him that I love him is strong, but I haven’t actually said those words to him yet.

I don’t think the first time should be through text.

But holy hell, I’m completely in love with Wyatt Davis.

I know he loves me too. And what’s even more spectacular about the man that I’ve been sharing a bed with for these last few weeks is that he loves my kid.

Starting my car, I put it in drive and head home.

I think a glass of wine after the long day I’ve had is in order.

Usually if I make it to the house before Wyatt, he has one waiting for me—like the night when he watched Colby for the first time.

It brings a smile to my face every time I walk through the door and he’s on the couch, pats his knees, and I place my feet in his lap so he can rub them while I sip on my wine and we talk about our day.

It’s nothing I ever expected to have in my life, but I can’t imagine it without him now.

When we were at the lake, it was as though the last of the walls I’d been hiding behind crumbled around my feet. I’m all in, and so is he.

After parking my car, I walk up the steps and put my key in the dead bolt, but it’s already unlocked.

That’s weird. Cece is usually really good about keeping the house locked up.

Shine is a safe town, most people probably don’t even bother locking their doors at night, but that isn’t me. And it's not usually Cece, either.

I open the door and step over the threshold.

The first thing I notice is how quiet it is in the house.

It’s late, so it’s not as though I expected Colby to still be up, but usually Cece is on the couch reading a book or watching some baking show on TV.

But there’s no sound. And it’s pitch black inside.

Not even the light I leave on over the sink is lit up. As though the power is out.

“Colby? Cece?”

No answer.

I try the light switch next to the front door and nothing happens. I look out onto the street and see that my neighbor’s front porch light is on.

“Colby!” I yell through the house while I grab my phone from my purse and use it as a flashlight.

I take a step into the hallway, and my boot crunches on something.

Pointing the light to the ground, I find a broken picture frame with shards of glass all over the place.

I direct the light to the wall where the picture of me and Colby was hanging and find them all a little skewed.

A couple of them are cracked as though there was a struggle in the hallway and they were knocked around.

“Colby!” I scream, praying that I’ll hear his little voice call back to me, but there’s nothing as I run into his room.

Empty.

I throw open the bathroom door and look behind the shower curtain.

Nothing.

When I rush into my room, a whimper hits my ears, but it’s not human.

I run to the other side of the bed, and lying on the floor is Pepper.

He barely lifts his head, and another whimper escapes as he looks at me with terrified eyes.

I fall to my knees, checking for signs of injury, but I’m not a fucking vet.

“I’ll be right back, I promise. Okay, buddy? You’re going to be just fine.”

Jumping up, I run down the hallway, into the kitchen, out the back door, and into the backyard.

“Colby,” I call again, hoping he’s hiding somewhere outside. I run around the house but don’t see any signs of him or anyone else. As I run back inside the house to get Pepper, I call Wyatt.

“Hey, baby, I’m just abou—”

“Colby’s missing. So is Cece, and Pepper is hurt,” I rush out. “I can’t find him, Wyatt. I can’t find him.”

“Slow down, baby. Where are you?”

“I’m at home. Someone cut the power, and there’s broken glass. Colby and Cece aren’t here. Pepper’s hurt bad. He won’t move.”

“Okay, this is what you’re going to do. I want you to pick up the dog and get out of the house. Start heading toward the clubhouse.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to jump on my bike and meet you on the road, baby. But I don’t want you in that house alone.”

I’m nodding, though he can’t see me. “Okay. Will you stay on the phone with me?”

“Absolutely.”

I hear him yell to someone that shit’s going down and to call the vet, then moments later, he connects the call to the Bluetooth in his helmet.

“Okay, I’m going to pick him up,” I say.

I slide the phone into my back pocket and kneel next to Pepper as the sound of more than one bike starting filters through the phone.

“I’m so sorry about this, buddy.” My hands slide under his shoulder, then his hips.

He lets out a yelp of pain, but otherwise, he doesn’t struggle when I lift him from the floor.

I walk/run out of the house, trying not to jostle the injured dog too much.

I position him in my back seat, then haul ass out of my driveway.

Less than three minutes later, four bikes pass me and quickly turn around.

I recognize Wyatt’s motorcycle immediately, thankful that he and the brothers are hauling ass to get to me while I drive the rest of the way to the clubhouse.

He jumps out before I have a chance to turn my car off and rushes over to my door, flinging it open and pulling me from the car. I’m a mess of shaking limbs and panting breaths.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll figure this out. Nothing is going to happen to Colby.”

“Something already has, Wyatt,” I cry into his chest.

“Shhh, I know. But we’re going to find him safe and sound, baby.” Though I appreciate his attempts to reassure me, my mind is going in a million different directions—none of them good.

Pepper whimpers in the back as Barrett and Linc open the back door of my car and gently lift the injured dog from the seat.

Lucy rushes out of the clubhouse with a man in scrubs right behind her. “Where is he hurt?” the vet asks.

“Uh, I think his hip. When I touched him there, he cried,” I say.

“Where’s your phone?” Wyatt asks, and I pull it from my back pocket, disconnecting our call from earlier. “We want to make sure it stays charged, okay?”

I nod, and he leads us into the clubhouse, followed by Lucy.

We pass the rest of the brothers and the girls as we rush into one of the guest rooms where a vet tech is finishing setting up a metal table and has several vials sitting on the dresser.

That’s when I see his red-stained muzzle.

“I don’t know where the blood is from,” the vet says as Barrett and Linc set him on the table and the man immediately starts looking for injuries. “He isn’t bleeding anywhere.”

“I do,” I whisper and look at Wyatt. “He was protecting my son.”

Wyatt’s jaw is tense as the tech puts a line in Pepper’s uninjured leg. Within seconds, the dog closes his eyes and his breathing starts to even out.

“Seeing as I don’t see any injuries that need emergency attention, I need to take him to my office and get some X-rays so I can assess him properly. As best I can tell right now, it’s a broken leg—but I won’t know the extent until I have the images back,” the vet tells us.

“Whatever you need to do,” Wyatt tells the man.

The vet nods and he and the tech quickly gather their things and wheel the metal table out the door with Pepper lying still on top.