The Hurricane (17 page)

I kissed her damp forehead and put my head on the pillow next to her.

Our girl.

Gone Too Far

The rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning lit up the clouds in the distance, hovering over the ocean. I loved living and working by the water. I don’t know why it took me so long to live here full time. There was nothing like the salty air and the sound of the waves crashing. And this old dock is where I spent most days on my lunch hour. I would eat my sandwiches and throw the sea gulls my leftovers. I had been doing this since I started working down here. It was a peaceful ritual. I threw the remainder of my sandwich out into the air, watching the bird scoop it up before it hit the salty water, then pulled my buzzing phone from my jeans pocket.

“Hey beautiful,” I said as I hit the green button, watching her face disappear from the screen.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You got them?” I asked.

“They’re beautiful, Ryker,” she gushed.

“I’m glad you like them.”

“I can’t believe you found a florist with so many cherry blossoms. I always have trouble finding them.”

“I know they make you happy,” I said. I called at least ten florists looking for those damn flowers, but I knew they were her favorite.

“You make me happy,” she said quietly.

“Me too, baby,” I said. God, I fucking cared about her so much. I just wanted to make her happy.

“So, I have a question,” she said, and sounded nervous.

“What’s up?”

“My parents are coming into town next weekend. They know all about you, thanks to Brooklyn, and they want to meet you.”

“Are you ready for me to meet them?” I asked. I wasn’t exactly the kind of man women usually liked to show off to their parents. The tattooed, motorcycle rider who liked to fight way too damn much wasn’t exactly a parents dream for their daughter.

“Of course I am, I . . . I think they will love you,” she said.

“Cops don’t usually like me, Nat.” I laughed.

“Oh stop, it’s going to be fine; you’re a good man, Ryker. Trust me, it will be fine. As long as you’re ok with it,” she laughed.

“Yeah, I can handle it,” I said.

“Well good. They want to meet you. They’re happy I found someone.”

“I’m happy we found each other. Again,” I said with a smile. That’s all I seemed to do here lately is smile. That woman had me wrapped around her perfect little fucking finger.

“Me too. Listen, I gotta get back to work. Will I see you tonight?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said, and then we said our goodbyes.

Later that day

I couldn’t shake the sick feeling I had in my stomach all day. Ever since I got off the phone with Nat at lunch, it was clawing at me, driving me fucking crazy. I even texted her twice just to make sure everything was ok. She assured me she was fine. I called my parents, which I usually only do on Sundays, just to make sure they were ok. They were getting older and I worried about them, but all was well. I even checked on fucking Cain, who was in a business meeting and had to cut our conversation short. But everything was fine.

Fuck. What was it?

I cranked up the radio on the drive home, hoping it would drive these feelings away. Metallica blaring in my ears, screaming about going off to never never land usually cleared my head.

I pulled into my usual parking spot just as the song ended. I grabbed my welding hood and new lense from the passenger side of my truck before I hopped out. I was going to take a quick shower before heading to Nat’s house. As I took the stairs two at a time I noticed an envelope hanging on my door. Probably some newsletter from the apartment manager or some shit. But as I got closer I noticed the writing on the front of the envelope that was taped to the door.

I ripped the envelope off the door and looked behind me, scanning the parking lot for a familiar vehicle.

What the fuck?

I tore it open and a picture fell to the ground, face down. I reached down and picked it up. When I flipped it over, that nervous feeling in my stomach started trying to claw its way out. It was a picture of Natalie and Brooklyn, holding hands and walking down a sidewalk.

Who took this?

When was it taken?

Who was watching them?

I noticed Natalie wearing her black scrubs and Brooklyn had her backpack on. This was taken at Brooklyn’s school. My heart started to pound harder and my hands started to shake. I looked in the parking lot again, but didn’t see anything or anyone suspicious. The beeping of a text message went off and I grabbed my phone from my front pocket. It was a number I didn’t recognize.

I’ll fuck your bitch and half pint will call me daddy.

My entire body started to shake uncontrollably. I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him.

I closed the message on my phone before going to my recent contacts and hit call.

“Ryker, what’s up?” Cain asked when he answered.

“Book it,” I said, my voice shaking so much the words were almost inaudible.

“Are you sure?” he asked, seeming confused.

“I’m going to kill that mother fucker,” I said before walking through my front door and throwing my phone against the wall, then letting out a blood curling scream as I walked into the spare room of my apartment, taking my temporary frustration out on the bag.

Johnson was next.

Drowning

“Where is he?” I mumbled to myself as I looked out the window for at least the tenth time.

I walked back into the kitchen staring at the chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes that had gotten cold an hour ago. I finally gave Brooklyn her dinner so she could get to bed. I reassured her that Ryker was probably stuck at work, but I could see the concern on her face. But she reluctantly ate alone at the table and had since gone to bed. My stomach was a ball of nerves; there’s no way I could force food down if I tried. The smell was starting to make me nauseous.

“Screw it,” I whispered as I dumped the food into the trash can. I sent him a text an hour ago asking if he was ok. He read the text, but didn’t respond. I wanted to call and check on him but I didn’t want to sound needy. But he was always on time, for everything. He was so punctual it was almost funny sometimes. So what was different tonight?

Just as I was finishing loading the dishwasher, I heard his truck pull into the driveway. My heart almost leapt into my chest. My thoughts were being pulled in two different directions. It went from “Thank God he’s here,” to “Where has he been?” I heard a light tap on the front door.

“Hey,” I said as I answered the door, trying to smile, but the look on his face made me nervous. His eyes were dark and his jaw was flinching. He looked pissed, and worried, and sad, all at the same time.

“Hey,” he said quietly, and slammed his lips against mine, which I was thankful for, wrapping my arms around him. But his kiss was different. It wasn’t soft and gentle, it was rough and needy.

“Are you ok?” I said as I pulled away from him, trying to make eye contact with him, but he wouldn’t look at me. Something was definitely going on with him.

“Come inside,” I said as I grabbed his hand, and I noticed a little flinch. I glanced down at his hand and saw that it was red. His knuckles were raw and swollen.

“Did you get in a fight?” I asked, looking back and forth between his face and his hand. He didn’t respond; he simply shook his head. Why won’t he look at me? What did he do?

“Ryker, talk to me!” I begged. I just wanted to make sure he was ok.

“I’m fine,” he said as he walked past me and sat on the couch, running his fingers through his hair quickly, and then scratching his beard, his left leg bouncing up and down. I walked over to the couch, sitting beside him, curling my legs underneath myself. I just stared at him, waiting for him to talk to me or even look at me.

“What happened to your hand?” I said as I ran my fingers over his arm and then noticed his other hand looked the exact same.

“Just the bag.” he said, hoarsely.

“Baby, why didn’t you use tape, like you usually do?” I asked, running my hand over his bouncing leg, hoping to calm him from whatever was going on.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, and then reached his arm around the small of my back, pulling me into his lap. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. I could feel his heart pounding against me as I rubbed the back of his neck with my nails, trying to soothe him.

“I wish you would talk to me,” I whispered against his neck.

“Just stay right here,” he replied.

I felt his phone buzz in his pocket. I figured he would ignore it, but he shoved his hand in his pocket, pulling it out quickly.

“Yeah,” he said into the receiver.

“Hey bro,” I could hear on the other end. It was Cain, his voice was very distinguishable.

“When?” Ryker mumbled.

“Next Saturday,” I heard, straining to hear, knowing I shouldn’t be nosy, but if he wasn’t going to open up to me, what choice did I have?