Long Way Home (Thunder Road #3)(67)

Razor’s not one to talk feelings. Not one to talk much at all. He must be hurting. “I saw the way Breanna looked at you. That was love.”

“Violet loved you.” His response stings, but it’s true.

“We’re figuring things out.” She told me she loved me, and for a brief minute, all was right in my world.

Something dark flashes in his eyes. Everyone in the club was cool when Violet and I started dating, but Razor was the one who was hesitant. He and Violet were best friends growing up. No feelings or attraction. Just friends, and Razor’s protective of his friends, especially her.

“She’s not happy in the club, so how exactly are you figuring that part out?”

“We haven’t.”

He rolls his neck. “Be careful with her.”

“I will.”

“Chevy.” He waits for me to meet his eyes. “Be careful with you.”

I nod. Razor doesn’t want to see either me or Violet hurt.

My phone rings and my forehead furrows when Stone’s face pops up on the screen. It’s after eleven and past his bedtime. Quick swipe to accept, then phone to my ear. “Hey, Stone.”

“Chevy?” Don’t care for the quiet nervousness in his voice.

“It’s me. You okay?”

Razor’s now watching me like a bear ready to tear into a stranger for throwing rocks at its young. If something is going down at Violet’s, he’ll be in that mix alongside me.

“I tried calling Eli, but he didn’t answer.”

I slip off the stool and go deadly serious myself. “Eli’s in Church. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Eli told me to keep an eye on Violet and to call him if anything strange happened.”

“Is she okay?”

Razor’s now on his feet and digging his keys out of his pocket.

“I think... It’s just that she’s downstairs in Dad’s office going through drawers. Everybody went to bed, and I fell asleep, but then I thought I heard a door open and shut. Then I heard footsteps and I was scared, but I thought of how you protected Violet, so I forced myself out of bed. Violet saw me and told me everything was okay and that she was hanging out downstairs. Then she went into Dad’s office. We don’t go into Dad’s office. Nobody goes in there.”

I wave Razor off, then rub my neck to ease the tension that had built there. “Maybe she’s always gone in there and you didn’t know.”

“No.” Stone hardens his tone. “She doesn’t. Violet doesn’t go in there. Mom doesn’t go in there. None of us go in there. Something’s wrong.”

“I get it.” But Violet’s expression when she received her Dad’s cross broke nearly all of us. Bet she’s feeling sentimental tonight, especially with this being her first official night home after the kidnapping. “I’ll swing by and check on her. Will that make you feel better?”

“Yeah, it would. Should I tell her to get out of there? Dad didn’t like us in there without him. That was his rule.”

“Leave her alone and I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay.”

We share goodbyes and I’m the one digging out my keys, but Razor’s still on alert. “Everything okay?”

“Violet’s missing her dad.”

Razor sits back on the stool, pencil in hand and already figuring out a problem. “Tell her if she needs me, I’m there.”

“Will do.”

*

I’ve been in a cage too much lately and I’ve missed the wind on my face, the vibration of my bike beneath me, the feeling of complete freedom. My headlight illuminates two prospects hanging near their bikes at the end of Violet’s drive. As long as Violet, her mom or Stone are in that house, someone from the Terror will be watching over them.

Using my feet, I back up my bike and park it next to theirs. It’s close to midnight, lights are out in the house and I don’t want the roar of my engine to wake Violet’s mom.

I exchange a few words with the prospects, then walk up the long drive. The guys didn’t ask why I’m here. Besides the fact I’m a McKinley, everyone, even the new guys, knows Violet was my girl. To the club, she’ll always belong to me.

She will, but not the way they think. Violet is a part of my soul, but it’s up to her if she wants me in her life. I’ve watched as man after man has treated my mother like an object. Violet’s not an object. She’s the girl I love.

Stone opens the front door before I jog up the stairs to the porch. He’s dressed in an old T-shirt with Star Wars pajama bottoms and his hair points in a million different directions. With shaking hands, he runs his fingers through his hair. Now I know why it’s a mess.

“Violet’s still in there,” he whispers, and I remind myself to keep my voice low.

Stone lets me in and closes the door behind me. Their house is exactly how I remember. Perfection. Hardwood floors, formal living room to the right with fancy furniture and fancy fragile things behind glass. To the left is the kitchen. Like it’s a model home, the counters are clean and there’s not a piece of paper or dish towel in sight. From there, it’s a straight shot to the family room and closed double doors that lead to their father’s office. Light creeps out from underneath. “Why don’t you go on upstairs to bed? I’ll take care of Violet.”