Whiskey Hangover

Chapter Eighteen

I groaned, picking my head up. I blinked a couple times, the pounding in my head causing my vision to be blurry. I looked around a bit, wincing from the pain in my neck. Slowly my vision sorted itself out and I could see a bit of my surroundings. The room was mostly dark except for a light above me and one above a metal door on the other side of the room. There was a chill in the air causing me to shiver then wince from it. I was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, my hands behind my back causing my shoulders to ache, my ankles secured to the legs of the chair.

There wasn't much in the room besides some metal shelves with a few scattered boxes. A tarp was underneath me on the floor. I pulled at my restraints to no avail, they were secure. I closed my eyes trying to remember what happened and how I ended up here. I remembered my appointment and coming home, nervous. I was making tea when I heard the door open. I went to the living room thinking it was Happy, it wasn't. Someone I didn't know.

Then, then he chased me. I tried to fight him off, throwing things at him to try and hold him off. I cut him, that's right! When I was in the kitchen him I got him in the leg. I stabbed a knife into it. That's when I ran to the bedroom and locked myself in, but after that it was foggy. I only remembered bits and pieces, like trying to dial Happy's number and the intruder breaking down the door. I groaned, the pain in my head only continuing, he must have hit me with something.

I looked up at the ceiling, the light blinding me a bit causing me to wince once more. Tears stung at my eyes as I thought about Happy and my dad. Surely they knew I was gone by now, they had to be panicking. Why? Why does this shit always happen? Can't I just have a normal life dammit? This. This is why. Why I hadn't told Happy about the baby. I wasn't far along, I still had options. Did I like any of the options that didn't involve me keeping my own kid? No. But did I like the idea of my kid being in this situation? Tied to a chair or mommy and daddy missing? HELL NO. I shook my head, clenching my jaw, looking over at the door. Fuck these people. Fuck Christian. Fuck all these assholes that are keeping me from my happily ever after. They're not going to win. I needed to survive, I was GOING TO SURVIVE. These pricks aren't taking shit from me.

Happy's POV:

My leg bounced up and down as I sat in the living room of my destroyed apartment. I didn't give a fuck. None of the broken picture frame or furniture mattered. I needed to find Stephanie, that's all that mattered. I knew this shit was going to happen. I fucking knew it. I didn't even look up when I heard the bikes in my driveway. The people rushing through my open front door didn't phase me in the least.

"Happy!" Chibs cried, "What the hell happened?"

I glared at him. Jax and Tigs walked around the broken stuff cautiously, taking everything in.

"I don't fucking know. All I do know is that she's gone and Christian is fucking behind it," I snapped, "Now if we're done asking stupid questions can we focus on the whole finding her and getting her back?"

"I thought you had a dog," Jax commented, coming back into the living room from checking out the damage in the kitchen.

"He's at the vet getting fixed," I mumbled, lighting another cigarette.

"Okay, we'll start with the complex's security cameras," Chiba said, taking control and pacing around the room, "Jax, you and I will go to Unsher, see if he can do anything under the radar."

"I'll go-" I stopped when Chibs shook his head.

"No, you just stay here. Maybe someone will call, you've done enough Happy."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" I growled.

"Guys, let's worry about this later," Jax said, putting up his hands as he walked towards us.

"Whatever," I mumbled, glaring at Chibs. The hell was he trying to say?

"Let's go," Chibs said, motioning for Jax to follow him as they left.

Tigs stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, looking amused and uncomfortable with the interaction.

"Do you know what Chibs' problem is?" I asked him

Tig sighed, "Yes. But I don't think it's really the time to deal with it."

"I want to know. What the hell is his problem?"

Tig hesitated for a moment before answering, "he's upset, his daughter is gone it's nothing personal."

"What isn't personal?"

"He kinda blames you. He was pissed when you called and he just kept saying if you were around more this wouldn't happen. He doesn't feel like you do your job at protecting her," Tig said, shrugging, "but like I said, he's just upset. He's not thinking before he speaks."

I frowned, nodding a bit. It hurt. A lot. Because everything he was saying and feeling, I was feeling. Hearing someone else say it or express it just validated what I was feeling, only ending in me feeling worse.

"Come on," Tig said, "we'll go do our own sleuthing."

Tig clapped me on the back as we walked out of the house, "we'll get her back brother."