Hold On

by Kristen Ashley

  “Test you,” Mike said.

  “Now what are you talkin’ about?” Garrett asked.

  “Pink ornaments. Purple sheets. Shit for the kitchen you do not need,” Cal answered the question he asked Mike. And he wasn’t done. “Wait until you get in a discussion about who’s gonna pay what bill. Vi gave it her all to unman me with that one, brother. Cher sinks her teeth in you, you give in even a little on that, she’ll have your balls and she’ll be payin’ your mortgage.”

  Fuck.

  “And toss pillows,” Cal kept at it. “So many toss pillows, it’s borderline insane. They got some for summer. Then, for some Godforsaken reason, they switch them out for winter. They add some for Halloween. Thanksgiving. Christmas.” He shook his head, but his eyes were still full-on amused. “They use this shit to test you. See how tight a hold they got on your dick.”

  Garrett stared at him.

  Angela whirled her dad’s key fob in the air and shouted, “May-May!”

  That meant Merry.

  He grinned down at her, bending to touch the tip of her nose with his finger. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  When he straightened away, she twisted to try to see her father. “Want May-May!”

  Cal bent over the stroller. “Merry’s workin’, baby. Today, you got Daddy.”

  “Daddeeee!” she yelled, a big grin on her pretty face, clearly not too cut up she couldn’t have Garrett.

  “Just let it go, man,” Mike advised to Garrett, and he turned to Mike as Mike moved forward in the line. “And by that, I mean the pink ornaments. Just let her have them.”

  Cal inclined his head toward Mike. “That’s the way. Suck it up. Take the hit. You fight over pink ornaments and purple sheets, she may let go of your dick.” He grinned. “And you don’t want that.”

  “Cher’s got beads acting as a door to her closet,” Garrett told Cal.

  Cal nodded sagely, still grinning. “Mm-hmm. You’re in for it, brother.”

  “What I’m sayin’ is, who gives a shit?” Merry asked. “She’s it. Got over the wrong one; got my hands on the right one. So if she wants pink ornaments and I got no preference of Christmas ornaments except havin’ ’em, then who cares? If it makes her happy…” he trailed off on a shrug.

  Cal’s brows drew together like he couldn’t comprehend what Garrett was saying to him.

  Garrett grinned at him as his phone rang.

  He pulled it out, looked at the screen, decided tomorrow he was fucking finally going to go get a new phone, and he took Sully’s call.

  “Yo, Sul.”

  “Merry, brother, call just came in. Shots fired. Parking lot at Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe.”

  Garrett froze.

  Not because there were shots fired.

  Because of the tone in Sully’s voice and the fact that Cher was going to Bobbie’s that day.

  “Sul,” he whispered, his insides freezing.

  “Shits me to say this—shits me—but gotta say it. Calls came in reported the shooter abducted Cher.”

  He turned sharply and headed to the door.

  “You with Colt?” he asked Sully.

  “Merry,” Mike called.

  “We’re headed that way,” Sully told him. “Colt’s a little…” He didn’t finish.

  He didn’t have to.

  Garrett knew what Colt was.

  He was that too.

  Except she was his.

  She was Colt’s friend.

  But Cher was his.

  And she’d been abducted.

  Fucking abducted.

  So what Colt was, Garrett was more of it.

  “We’re headed that way too,” Garrett told him, shoving out the door.

  “Merry, dammit, what the fuck?” Mike clipped.

  “You got any more?” Garrett asked Sully.

  “Nothin’. Call just came in. Pandemonium at Bobbie’s. Got units goin’ out there. If I get more before you get there, I’ll call,” Sully answered.

  “Later,” Garrett bit off, standing on the driver’s side door of their service sedan. He looked to Mike, who was rounding the hood. “Keys,” he demanded.

  It wasn’t his day to drive.

  “Garrett, what’s goin’ on?” Mike asked tersely.

  “Shots fired at Bobbie’s and preliminary reports say that the shooter took Cher.”

  “What?” Mike asked, stopping short by Garrett.

  “What?” Cal growled, and Garrett spared a glance to the sidewalk where Cal and his kids were.

  He looked back to Mike. “Keys.”

  “You aren’t drivin’, brother,” Mike replied quietly.

  Garrett leaned his way. “Give me the goddamned keys.”

  “Round the car, Merry. I drive,” Mike returned.

  They faced off.

  For half a second.

  Then Garrett jogged around the car so they could get to Bobbie’s.

  * * * * *

  Cher

  From my place, lying in the backseat of a car, hands zip-tied behind my back, I stared at the profile of Walter Jones, who was driving.

  “You’re not ex-FBI, are you?” I whispered.

  He said nothing.

  “You’re not ex-FBI. You’re one of those sick fucks who gets off on all things Dennis Lowe,” I guessed.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  He was.

  God.

  He was.

  And he had me.

  “I got a kid. I got a mom. I got a man. I got a life. I’ll repeat, I got a kid,” I told him.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “He’s eleven.”

  I rolled to the floor when he suddenly stopped the car, pain shooting up my shoulder and across my hips, both of which hit first.

  By the time I twisted my head to look up, he was leaned around the driver’s seat, pointing his gun at me.

  “I said,” he whispered, “shut the fuck up.”

  I shut the fuck up.

  He waited.

  Then he turned back around and drove.

  * * * * *

  Garrett

  “She didn’t run.”

  Garrett stood in the parking lot of Bobbie’s with Colt, Mike, and Sully, listening to Susie Shepherd talk, Mia standing next to her but not close. Both of them were visibly freaked right the fuck out, but surprisingly, it was Susie who had it together to report what had happened.

  He tried to stay locked on Susie, but he couldn’t.

  His eyes wandered to the back of the Equinox. The hatch up.

  She’d been loading bags when Mia confronted her. Interrupted by his fucking ex-wife, then abducted by an unknown man with a weapon.

  Six shopping bags he could count.

  Fucking six.

  She was excited for Christmas. Christmas with him and her boy.

  Pink ornaments.

  “It was too late, though. He was right on her. Snuck up the side of her car. She didn’t see him because she was dealing with Mia, and I didn’t see him because I was too. Cher didn’t have time to run,” Susie finished, and Garrett looked back to her.

  “Merry,” Mia whispered.

  Abe ran up. “BOLO out on the vehicle. They’re settin’ up roadblocks. Everyone’s been called in.” His eyes fell on Merry. “Everyone, dude. Everyone’s out lookin’.”

  Even though the man had shot three rounds into the air to make his point, everyone getting that point and scattering, Susie had managed to have it together enough to see what car the man took Cher to. Make, model, but she got no plate.

  Now they had a BOLO.

  “Merry,” Mia whispered again.

  “Describe him again,” Garrett clipped at Susie.

  “Dark hair. Receding. Gray in it. Same with his goatee,” she described. “Good clothes. Blue shirt, nice jeans, nice leather jacket. He had some heft, but it worked on him.” She glanced at Colt before she returned her attention to Merry. “You know my type, so just to be helpful, I wouldn’t fuck him. He’s too short, he wasn’t all that
, and he’s clearly a psychopath, shooting gunshots in the air in a fucking garden shop parking lot.”

  Garrett turned to his partner. “Find Ryker.”

  “You got something?” Mike asked.

  “Just find Ryker.”

  Mike nodded and stepped back, pulling out his phone.

  He looked to Colt and Sully. “Call Warren. Nowakowski. Find out if Walter Jones was FBI.”

  “Jesus, Merry, you think—?” Colt started.

  Garrett looked back at Susie. “You said his vehicle looked like a rental?”

  She nodded. “I saw a decal. Didn’t see it clearly, but it didn’t say dealership. It said rental. Just didn’t see which company.”

  Garrett turned to Colt. “Description matches, Colt.”

  “I’ll call Nowakowski,” Sully murmured. “You call Warren.”

  They pulled out their phones.

  “Merry,” Mia whispered.

  Hearing her repeat his name, he felt it snap. It was a twinge right at his heart, small but not insignificant, seeing as it reverberated through his frame, exploding in his brain.

  Compelled by the explosion, Garrett turned to her and roared, “Not now, Mia!”

  Her pale face turned ash.

  “You love her,” she kept whispering.

  “Jesus, fuck,” Garrett clipped, turning to put distance between himself and his ex, not to mention get to the goddamned car so he could look for his woman, doing this while ordering to a hovering Marty, “Get that bitch away from me.”

  He could not go apeshit crazy. He had to keep it locked down. If he lost his mind, he couldn’t use it to find his woman. And when he found her, he’d be in no place to be there for her.

  He had to lock it down.

  “Uh…Mia, if you’d—” Marty started.

  “I’m gonna go out and look for her.”

  Garrett turned back at his ex-wife’s words.

  “I’m gonna look for her,” she declared again.

  She lifted her chin and caught hold of Susie’s hand.

  Mia Merrick, spoiled rich girl, holding fucking Susie Shepherd’s hand, Susie being spoiled bitch girl.

  “Me and Susie. Me and Susie are gonna go look for Cher,” she kept at it.

  Susie yanked her hand away and looked down in disgust at Mia, demanding to know, “Have you lost your mind?”

  Mia looked up at Susie. “You said you were sisters.”

  Cher and Susie, sisters?

  “We are, but I’m not doin’ shit with you. I got nothing to prove. And anyway, might be a good idea you let the people who know what they’re doing do it without you in the way,” Susie returned, and looked to Garrett. “Are we done?”

  “Keep your phone close,” Garrett told her.

  She nodded, glared at Mia, and stomped away.

  “Well, I’m gonna look for her myself, then,” Mia declared.

  “You impede this search, I swear to fuck—” Garrett started.

  “I want to help,” she returned.

  She wanted to make a point. She wanted to make a play.

  And now was so not the time, it wasn’t fucking funny.

  “Then how about you shut up and go home,” Mike asked, phone still to his ear, irate eyes on Mia.

  She looked with surprise at Mike then to Garrett.

  “Okay. Maybe I’ll just go home,” she decided hesitantly, watching Garrett closely.

  “Good call,” Colt muttered.

  She looked to Colt then again to Garrett.

  She had no traction there, no support, no one giving any indication they thought there was anything left of Merry and Mia. Or that they even liked Mia, with or without Merry.

  And she got not one thing from Garrett.

  So finally, he got what he was expecting.

  It was too much for her, she was giving up.

  It was written all over her face. An expression he’d seen a lot over a lot of years and missed repeatedly.

  He didn’t miss it then.

  He just didn’t care.

  “I just…I hope she’s okay, Merry,” she said.

  “Whatever,” he muttered, turning away.

  The minute he did, she was out of his head.

  He moved as he bit out, “Mike.”

  Mike looked his way. Phone still to his ear, he moved with Merry.

  Garrett pulled out his phone and called his dad.

  “Yo, Garrett, son,” Dave answered, talking quickly. “Ernie heard it. Tanner phoned me just after Ernie heard it. Tanner’s out. I’m out too. So’s Ernie and Spike. Don’t you worry. We’ll find that car.”

  His father and his retired BPD cronies were not unwanted additions to the search.

  But he needed something else.

  “Shit gets around, Dad. It’s still early, school’s not out for a while, and I appreciate you lookin’ for Cher. But I need someone to deal with Ethan. Ethan and Grace.”

  He stopped at the car and looked over the roof to see Mike still had his phone to his ear, but he beeped the locks.

  “I’ll call Rocky,” Dave told him.

  “Rocky’s in class.”

  “She’ll sort somethin’ out, Garrett. You need men on the streets, not me holdin’ Grace’s hand.”

  His dad was right.

  He needed men on the streets.

  He needed that car found.

  He needed Cher found.

  Fuck, his head hurt.

  “Call Rocky, Dad,” he ordered as he yanked open the door and folded into the car.

  “You got it, son.”

  He was taking the phone from his ear to disconnect when he heard his father call his name.

  “Yeah?” he asked when he put it back.

  “We’ll find her,” his father said quietly.

  They would. They absolutely would.

  They had to.

  For Ethan. For Grace.

  For Garrett.

  They had to find her.

  He couldn’t think of it another way.

  He couldn’t think of her not behind the bar at J&J’s when he walked in. He couldn’t think of her not there, pretending she was annoyed her kid and him were giving her shit over pancakes. He couldn’t think of losing her brand of sweet. Never seeing it again, when she could be cute.

  He couldn’t think of not waking up to her pretty every morning.

  He couldn’t think of never having that look from her, that look that said she loved him.

  He couldn’t think of losing what his father lost how his father lost it, in other words, in a way he’d never get it back and the child she made who he loved wouldn’t either.

  He couldn’t think of that.

  If he did, his head would explode.

  Or his heart would stop.

  And if that shit happened, he couldn’t help find her.

  “Yeah, Dad. Got calls to make, shit to do. Later, yeah?”

  “Later, son.”

  He took his phone from his ear as Mike backed out of their spot. “Ryker’s not answering.”

  “Fuck,” Garrett muttered.

  “Called Tanner. Tanner’s been tryin’ him too. Incommunicado.”

  Not unusual with Ryker.

  Just irritating because they needed everyone they could get.

  “He didn’t report back on Jones,” Garrett told Mike. “Don’t know where he found him. Don’t know where he was stayin’. Don’t know what he did to get him gone. Just know he disappeared and Cher didn’t hear shit. Until now.”

  “We don’t know this is that guy, Merry,” Mike pointed out.

  They didn’t.

  He had not gotten sick-fuck vibes from Walter Jones. He hadn’t gotten any read on him except ex-cop.

  In truth, until they pulled Bobbie’s camera feeds, they had to go forward thinking it could be anyone. It might not have anything to do with Dennis Lowe. It could be someone losing it at Christmas because they lost their job and couldn’t afford presents. Or they cheated on their wife and she threw them out and the
y were messed up and wanted to make some woman pay. Or they had some fucked part of their head get more fucked and they went to the parking lot of a goddamned garden shop and abducted a woman.

  It could be anyone.

  Anyone who had Cher.

  His blood started to burn.

  He lifted a hand and pressed his middle three fingers to his forehead, and he did it hard.

  “She’s tough, brother,” Mike said softly.

  Garrett pressed in harder.

  Chatter was coming from their radio. Men and women out, reporting in. Checking parking lots. Driving down streets. Off-duty officers from Avon, Danville, Plainfield were all mucking in. Shots fired. A woman abducted. She belonged to a cop. The brotherhood was closing in.

  “I love her,” Garrett told his knees, pressing harder into his forehead, holding back the rage, keeping it contained, trying not to fly apart.

  “I know you do, Merry.”

  “Gonna make babies with her,” he told his partner.

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “Give Ethan brothers and sisters.”

  “Yeah, Merry.”

  “Never wanted that. Not with anyone, Mike. Never wanted any of that with anyone but Cher.”

  “Stick with me, brother. Yeah? Stick with me.”

  Garrett pulled in breath.

  He would not see a burgundy Ford Taurus with his eyes to his fucking knees.

  He dropped his hand and lifted his head.

  His phone sounded with a text.

  He pulled it out and looked at the cracked screen.

  Out looking. You got time to tell me, Vi wants to know if Ethan’s covered.

  Cal.

  He’s covered. Grace too. Rocky’s got them, Garrett texted back.

  Someone needs to get Ryker’s head out of his ass. He’s not answering. He needs in on this hunt, Cal returned.

  We’re on that, Garrett replied.

  Cal sent no more.

  Mike drove.

  Garrett scanned the streets and listened to the reports coming in at the same time he sent a text to Ryker that Cher was missing and they needed him to report in.

  After he sent it, he backed out of his texts with Ryker and went to the string under Cal’s.

  He opened it.

  Ethan’s safe at school. He reports we’re almost out of Pringles. You’re out, you wanna get on that?

  Him to Cher.

  Your wish is my command, then a half dozen x’s and o’s, another half dozen hearts of various colors, ending with a shamrock and the head of a chicken.