Page 44 of Crow's Haven
I rush to the bathroom door and pound my fist hard against the door, rattling the frame. “Open the goddamn door. You’re scaring me.”
Again, there’s just silence. My irritation slowly turns to worry. I knock again, less harshly. “Ladybug, are you okay in there?”
Something ain’t right. I can fucking feel it. Adrenaline floods my system and a kind of urgency I’ve never known before catapults me into action. Without hesitation, I grip the doorknob and slam my shoulder into the door hard enough to splinter the wood and pop the lock. It swings inward, cracking loudly against the wall. The bathroom is empty. She’s gone.
My gaze snaps across the room to the window beside the toilet. It’s wide open, and the curtain is fluttering gently in the breeze. My stomach drops when I realize I must have terrified my Ladybug. I scared her so bad that she would rather run away with just the clothes on her back than face me.
I rush to the window, leaning out to see the grass trampled directly beneath.
“Fuck!” I roar, slamming a fist hard against the window frame. Pain radiates through my knuckles and up my arm, but it barely registers. My mind races, creating one gut-wrenching scenario after another. Each one is worse than the last. My Ladybug is going to be off somewhere all by herself, desperate, and terrified. Only this time, she doesn’t even have a car to sleep in. And all because I couldn’t control my temper. I meant to help her, and now because of me, she’s worse off than ever.
I should’ve known. I scared her into running straight back into the same danger she’d fled before. If the cops find her first, she’s as good as gone. Now that my head ain’t so clouded with rage, I can see that none of this adds up. I can’t reconcile the warm, affectionate woman I’ve come to know and love as being some kind of cold-blooded killer. It just doesn’t fit.
My heart thumps in my chest as I rush out to the garage. Every wasted second feels like a knife twisting deeper into my gut. In the garage, I yank on my helmet and swing one leg over my bike, without stopping to unhitch the sidecar. The engine roars to life, but its familiar rumble does nothing to ease the fear now flooding my system. I need to find her.
I rip out of the driveway, tires squealin’, as raw, relentless panic claws at me.
I fucked this up, by letting my ego and anger get the better of me. I won’t lose her, not to her panicked run, to the cops, or the shadows of her past. My anger’s still simmering because this betrayal is fresh, but underneath it there’s something stronger. It’s the pure, gut-wrenching fear of losing her forever, of never seeing her smiling face or having her in my arms.
I push the throttle harder, as I sweep back and forth along the interstate near the house. I ride that stretch, searching, praying to find her and cussing myself every inch of the way. I patrol the area for a goddamn hour before I finally give up hope of finding her there.
Figuring she might’ve caught a ride to town, I turn the throttle and burn rubber all the way there. I’ll rip this town apart piece by piece if I have to. I ain’t stopping ‘til I find her.
I ride through the streets like a madman, eyes glued to every shadow, every alley, every crowd, looking for a glimpse of her. Whatever it takes, wherever she’s hiding, I’ll find her. Because I fucked up and this can’t be how it ends.
I shout Ladybug’s name until my voice is raw, and people are staring at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind. I don’t give a shit who stares. Let ‘em think I’ve lost my mind because they ain’t wrong about that. I search every damn place I think she mighthide within a twenty-mile radius of my house. But there’s no sign of her anywhere.
I ride for another half-hour, refusing to stop looking until I accept the bitter truth, which is I need backup. Thirty men can cover more ground and search inside restaurants and bars. My club brothers can be my eyes and ears. I need their calm clarity to balance my frantic thoughts. I turn the bike around sharply, headed straight for the clubhouse.
***
The Savage Legion compound looms ahead, lights glowing softly behind the windows, bikes parked neatly in a row along the front porch. I’m anything but calm as I pull in, cutting the engine off. My boots hit the pavement with urgency, and I practically fly into the clubhouse.
Inside, I find Rigs and Siege talking quietly at the bar, their laughter fading instantly at the look on my face. Siege straightens immediately, eyes narrowing with concern.
“What’s wrong, Crow?”
I stride forward, my fists clenched, anger and frustration spilling out unchecked. “I found out shit about Sharon and when I confronted her, she ran. She’s fucking gone. Climbed out the bathroom window and took off on foot. She didn’t take her car, phone, purse, or any damn thing else.”
Rigs curses under his breath, as his eyes narrow on me. “Bullshit. Why the hell would she run? What did you do to her?”
I hesitate, jaw grinding so tight it hurts. “She’s wanted. Has a warrant out for murder.”
The stunned silence hits like a gut punch. Siege finally speaks first, carefully measuring each word. “And I take it she didn’t exactly volunteer this information herself?”
“No,” I snap, bitterness riding shotgun with shame. “I overheard her talking on the phone. She’d been hiding it from me.”
Rigs folds his arms, leaning back against the bar, his voice firm but gentle. “Can’t exactly blame her for being scared, brother. Imagine how desperate she must’ve been.”
Siege shoots him a dirty look. “Fucking leave it to you to start making excuses before you even hear all the facts. I almost forgot that you’re the ‘women can do no wrong’ brother.”
Rigs frowns at our club president. “I never said women can’t be wrong. I just know that most of the time, it’s the men fucking shit up.”
I lay it out straight, no sugarcoating shit or breaking it easy. “She’s being charged with murdering a kid, a little boy. I was fucking furious when I found out.”
Siege raises his eyebrows and more club brothers start gathering around. Rigs isn’t having it, not at all. “I call bullshit on that as well. I know Sharon, and she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to murder children. Want to try again?”
I tell it to them, just like she told it to me. “She said she was a nurse, and the kid was her patient. She described him as a very sick child. Something happened and he died on her watch, and they blamed her for it. Now, there’s a warrant out for her arrest. She kept saying it wasn’t her fault, that someone was trying to set her up, but also seemed pretty convinced that if the police found her, she’d end up in prison.”
