Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Last night as we drank away our loneliness, Busted and I ended up here thanks to Boomer and Danza. It’s all beginning to come back to me. Neither of us were in a condition to drive. They tucked us in so to speak. I could almost laugh about it, if I hadn’t gotten this call. In this moment, I’m on edge and freaked the fuck out.
“Why the fuck did she do this?” I roar as anger consumes me. “He’s my fuckin’ son. She can’t leave Onslow damn county without notifying me. Are you one hundred percent it’s his tracker pinging?”
Instantly, I regret even giving Anna an ounce of trust. I could have had full custody. I had enough on her to prove negligence especially those final months when she was leaving him to go get drunk. Add the driving under the influence ticket she got with endangering a minor additional charge, there isn’t a judge in the county who would have denied me full custody. I didn’t push it because Hollis loves his mom. Until this moment, I thought, she was coming out of whatever funk was holding her back. I was wrong. Some people can’t change.
My pulse races as my mind goes crazy. Yes, I have a tracker on my son and my cousins who run an investigations company follow it for me at all times. Jacoby Investigative Services is owned and operated by Lincoln, Draven, and Nixon. They found their niche is tracking fugitive for bail bondsmen, getting evidence for civil cases like divorces, for insurance companies or businesses involved in liability cases. Thankfully for me, I’ve only ever needed them to give me the comfort and security of tracking Hollis. Granted, I never imagined actually needing to use the service. I’ll never apologize or feel sorry for going the extra mile for my family. And they won’t apologize for helping me either.
“Where did he ping last?” I pause, looking around seeing Wesson’s phone, I thank God he’s here. “Send the link to Busted’s phone. He’s here with me. I can look while we plan.”
This is a battle and its mission critical.
By this point, Busted is up, in his chair turning to grab the phone from the nightstand and wheel right to me. His eyes are full of concern and questions. This isn’t how I would want to wake up either.
I explain, “Bitch took my son out of state. Link got the alert when Hollis crossed into Georgia. He’s sending you a video from a business she’s at.”
With Busted beside me, I switch the phone to speaker. This isn’t private, this is my son. I’ll let anyone in on it that can help me get to him safely. Busted quickly puts in his passcode and we open the video.
“How far did she get?” I ask Link, then looks to Busted to spell it out, “they started calling hours ago, but my drunk ass was passed out and missed the calls and messages. If she’s still in Georgia, it’ll be a miracle. We are behind the curve ball bigger than shit.”
“Hey, we got people, Ravage will step in if she’s in Georgia. One step at a time, brother.” Wesson tries to reassures me. Yes, I’ve met some of the Ravage guys. They will do what they can … that is if he’s still in Georgia.
“She’s at a laundromat called Get the Funk Out in St. Petersburg, Florida.” Link explains. “I hacked into the camera system once Hollis’ tracker stayed in place for more than five minutes. They have been here about twenty, I guess she needed to do some laundry.”
What an odd place to stop? She doesn’t need to do laundry. Surely, if she planned this, she packed a bag, and her clothes would be clean. Same for Hollis. I slam my fist down on the table as the video comes to life. There in color on the small screen is Hollis with his mother. She’s pacing the space, hair out to there, and looking frazzled. Hollis is sitting on a bench playing on his phone, eating a pack of those white powdered donuts that possibly came from the vending machine in the laundromat, or a gas station.
“Thank fuck, he looks okay,” I state to no one in particular breathing a sigh of relief. “She’s tweaked as fuck.” I am fighting the urge to come unhinged. Me losing my shit doesn’t help Hollis come home. What the fuck has Anna done?
“I’ll get shit sorted, we’ll go down and get him,” Busted explains automatically stepping up to help me. He starts tapping away shooting off text after text on his phone. No doubt alerting everyone in the club. Thank fuck for having brothers at my back.
My hangover is forgotten as my mind races with options. Busted’s face goes pale before either us can truly process what we are seeing.