Page 70 of Harley

Oakley swapped a glance with me.

I’d told her everything, giving Oakley the chance to disappear and come back when the war was over. Oakley had verbally bitch slapped me so hard I thought my ears would blister. However, Aspen was too fragile to be informed about the approaching war.

Plus, getting her and Archer to Chicago was a priority. Oakley and I had already looked online at some houses. Hopefully, we could fly Aspen and Archer out soon to help pick one. I wasn’t sure how Archer would cope with that, but Oakley assured me that Aspen would.

Things were starting to come together in a way I’d never dreamed possible. My fake wife was now the light of my life. We’d found her cousins and saved them. I had signed for the Cubs and was heading for a career in my first love.

And that gave me the shakes. Everything was too perfect—too happy. That never happened for me. Shit always went bad.Because I was Harley Michaelson. Something always waited in the shadows to snatch my good luck away.

I drew in a deep breath as Oakley looked at me, and I felt a pang at the love in her eyes. Would I lose her? There’d be no recovering from that. Without Oakley, there was no tomorrow.

Chapter Fourteen.

End of January

Oakley

Harley was working at the blacksmith today. He’d had to work on finishing several orders if Harley wanted to fly out to Chicago for training. After a meeting with the inner circle, it had been decided to rent the smithy out on a yearly basis. Drake and the inner circle also informed Harley that his prospect status would end soon, when it would have anyway. Harley had nearly finished his time as prospect, and nobody saw no reason to prolong his status.

Aspen had regained twelve pounds and looked far healthier. Despite Archer mentioning the fact he wanted his room, he’d regressed and refused to consider one. Before they’d been incarcerated in that terrible place, Archer had been quite independent and had his own bedroom. Now, he was frightened of leaving Aspen. I was well aware Archer had been scarred by what happened.

The only way to reassure Archer was to keep his routine in place and offer lots of praise. Even that needed tailoring to Archer. You needed to be very specific about why and what you’re praising Archer for. Archer was also antsy. Before they’d been kidnapped, Archer had been attending school. Right now, he wasn’t enrolled in one, and that was affecting him.

With sheer hard work, we’d got nearly all of Archer’s routines back on track except school. While it was difficult and upset Archer, there was no point enrolling him in a school here because he’d miss it when in Chicago. And vice versa. In fact, Aspen and I had talked about getting Archer a private tutor, but then we felt he’d miss out on social interaction.

But there was also the quandary of Harley’s season colliding with school terms. Phoe had suggested a private tutor and maybe a social club in both states, which was plausible. It was something Aspen was weighing up and researching.

Aspen was down to a minor dose of the drugs now, and Doc Gibbons planned to stop it completely within the next few days. Everything was finally coming together. Neither of us had put pen to paper around the designs yet, simply because my asshole parents were somehow evading capture. Despite the serious charges of kidnapping, false imprisonment, and so on, they were still hiding.

While Harley was working, I’d decided to do some shopping. Aspen needed some new clothes. She’d literally worn nothing but pyjamas for the last few weeks, and now Aspen was gaining weight, she wanted to get out of bed.

I only bought a few outfits; there was no point in buying much as Aspen still had at least twenty-five pounds to gain.

I carried the bags back to the car Phoe had loaned me, a twenty-twenty-two blue Chevrolet Corvette Stingray, two-door coupe. Driving it was like a dream. Phoe explained to me that any of the cars in the huge garage were for use by the family. Shehad a range from sports cars to jeeps to SUVs to a tricked-out school bus, which amused me.

Distracted, I slung the bags in the car onto the backseat and was just about to get inside when a hand covered my mouth, holding a cloth.

Immediately, I began to fight, but within moments, I drifted off as the sweet scent of chloroform knocked me out cold.

???

With a struggle, I opened my eyes or tried to. My head felt woozy and disorientated.

A small moan sounded as my stomach revolted, and I flopped on my side and dry heaved.

“Oakley’s up, Dad,” someone said.

Disorientated, I recognised that voice but couldn’t put a name to it. I tried to open my eyes when my face was covered once more.

Shit, what was happening?

???

I came awake as I was jostled heavily. I bounced and then bounced again. Somebody was moving me.

Confused, I tried not to move as I struggled to gain control of my scattered thoughts, but something must have tipped the kidnappers off. The assholes drugged me again.

???

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