Chapter Seven
Dutch walked out ofhis bathroom, a towel around his hips, using another to dry his hair.When he caught sight of the empty bed, he stiffened.He glanced around the room to find her things gone and felt a wave of panic and anger race through him as he rushed to get dressed.
He raced out his door and jumped onto the bike his men had brought back to him and drove to her apartment.He took the stairs at a fast clip, getting to her place.He knocked on the door, and his heart dropped when it flew open.
“Fuck,” he cursed.He scanned the small room before investigating it.There were only a few pieces of clothing left in the box, and none of her personal things.“Where the hell did you go, babe?”
His jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth would crack.He slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a huge hole.He didn’t even glance down at his hand as he strolled out of the apartment.
When he stood by his bike, he set his hands on his hips and bowed his head, then tried to get his temper under control.When he was this pissed, someone usually ended up dead.
After he was calm, he considered who to call who would know where she might be.The only people who knew her were her employers and a few other people she worked with.She didn’t seem to have any friends or even make time to relax.
There was so much he didn’t know about her.Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have given a fuck, but she’d messed with his head from the very beginning, and now he was afraid he’d become obsessed with her.He’d taken every part of her body he could, and as far as he was concerned, that made her his.She might not agree, but fuck it.It didn’t matter that getting drugged wasn’t her fault.The fact that it happened and he’d been there to help her made it seem like destiny.Fuck, where the hell did that come from?Jesus Christ, he was becoming a fucking chick.
That alone should have veered him away from finding her, but the obsession was too strong to ignore.The only other thing in his life he’d ever been obsessed with was killing his father.It had started when he was eight years old and witnessed his father beat the shit out of his mother.He’d tried to help her, but he’d been too small and had been beaten himself, sometimes unconscious.
When he turned thirteen, he’d grown bigger than his father.He made it a mission to become stronger, so he lifted weights as much as he could.He wanted to be able to protect his mother, and he needed to be tougher than his father to do it.
He’d walked in one day and found his father straddling his mother while she lay on the floor.Dutch had grabbed a chunk of hair from his father’s head and yanked him back.His father had screamed.Dutch didn’t give him a chance to stand, kicking him as hard as he could in the side.He found satisfaction in the cracking sound of bone breaking.Dutch kicked him a few more times before lifting him to his feet and gripping his neck.“If you ever put your hands on my mother again, I will torture you and then slit your throat.”Dutch had thrown him against a wall.His father hit hard and slid down, unconscious.
Dutch had helped his mother to her feet and taken her to the kitchen, where he helped wipe the blood from her face and put ice on her swelling eye.
“You won’t ever have to worry about him again, Mom.”
“If he leaves, what will happen to us?”she asked.
“We’ll manage.Hell, we’ll probably do better because we don’t have to feed him or buy his alcohol.”
They had woken the next morning to his father gone.He’d packed some clothing and left.His mother was inconsolable, and Dutch was confused about why.The man had beaten her every day of her life for years, and now she would never have to deal with him again.
Dutch had come home from school a week later to find his mother in the bathtub.She had slit her wrists and bled out.He sat on the toilet lid and stared at her.How could she have been so desperate to commit suicide?Why had she done this, knowing she was leaving her son alone?
It had taken him years to realize that there was nothing he could have done to save his mother.She had grown up with an abusive dad and then married another.That was all she had known.
Dutch drove to the garage where Naya worked.He guessed it wouldn’t be open since it was Sunday.When he saw the CLOSED sign, he called the owner.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Mark.Would you happen to know where Naya is?”Dutch asked him.
“No.She doesn’t work on Sundays,” Mark said.
“I know.Listen, we had an issue last night.”
“Oh, what?”
Dutch went over how Wyatt drugged her.He explained how sick she was, but didn’t give details.
“What the fuck,” Mark growled.“That son of a bitch.I’m going to...”
“He’s already been taken care of,” Dutch told him.
Mark was silent for a moment.“He’s gone for good then?”
“Yes.You’ll need to get another manager.”
“Fine.I hated the asshole anyway.I would have fired him before if I knew he was harassing Naya.”
