Fuck!

He needed her shit out.

Now he had to call a still seriously pissed off Tate.

Or stop acting like a f**king idiot and continue perpetrating exactly the junior high school bullshit Tate called it and phone his soon-to-be ex-wife.

He dropped his workout bag by the stairs, reminding himself to sort it. There was no Lexie to take it away and deal with it. Not anymore.

He headed upstairs and hit their room then something made him stop dead.

His head turned and he saw the frame that held the picture of them at The Rooster was gone. He felt his chest compress and his gut tighten as he walked to the closet.

Her clothes were gone.

He retraced his steps down the stairs and went right, to the guest bedroom.

Cleaned out.

He moved to the office.

Her computer gone. The frames gone. Her print gone.

He moved to the other bedroom.

Void of everything.

He walked back up the stairs and to the closet, looking down; he saw the safe was closed. He moved to it, crouched in front of it and opened it.

Money and jewelry still there.

“Fuck,” he whispered to the safe. Then he slammed the door shut using all his strength, it flew back open, hit the back of its hinges and swung shut again.

He surged to his feet and barked, “Fuck!”

He prowled back downstairs to his workout bag, bent to it, dug through it and found his phone. He straightened as his thumb moved on the keys, taking him to her number.

He clenched his teeth as it rang.

He got voicemail. No surprise.

“This is Lexie. Busy right now, leave a message.”

He clenched his teeth harder at the sound of her voice.

Then he heard the beep. “Don’t be stupid. Come back, get your cash and diamonds. You need me gone, I’ll be gone. Just get them.”

Then he flipped his phone shut.

Then he stood by his bag and stared at the snow globe in the kitchen windowsill and his eyes lifted.

The petal heart was still there.

Except that picture of them at The Rooster, she left everything that was them.

Everything.

He turned his head away.

Then he sucked in breath through his nose and walked into the kitchen to blend a shake.

* * * * *

Five days later…

His cell ringing woke him up.

He rolled, tagged it off the nightstand, looked at the display and it said, “Unknown caller”.

Considering his business and the ball Julius got rolling, it could be anyone.

His eyes slid to his alarm clock.

Anyone, even at one thirty in the f**king morning.

He sat up, flipped his phone open, put it to his ear and growled, “What?”

“She’s with Shift right now,” he heard a woman say and he knew that woman.

It was Bessie.

But he couldn’t think of Bessie because he’d stopped breathing.

Bessie kept talking.

“Motherfucker finds out shit, found out she was home, was all over her. And now, way she is, no job, no money, no schoolin’, no fight left in her, no nothin’, that ass**le is gonna be all over her. But you knew that, didn’t you? You just didn’t f**kin’ care.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond. She got finished saying what she had to say and gave him dead air.

But Walker was still fighting for breath.

When he got enough in, he shifted to sitting on the side of the bed and stared at his display in the dark as his thumb moved over the keypad, finding Lexie’s number.

He hit go and put it to his ear.

Two rings then, “We’re sorry. This number is no longer in service…”

“Fuck!” Walker snarled as he shot out of bed.

He flipped the phone closed then back open as he turned on the light and then prowled to the closet. He found the number he needed and put the phone to his ear as he turned on the closet light and headed to his bag.

Three rings then Tate saying, “Ty, this better be good.”

“I need you to fire up your computer right now. I need addresses for Ella Rodriguez, Bessie Rodriguez and Duane Martinez.”

Silence then, “What?”

He tagged his bag and started back to the bedroom. “Bess called. Shift’s got Lexie.”

“Shift?”

“Martinez.”

He dropped his bag on the bed and moved to the dresser.

“Fuck,” Tate whispered.

“Tate, don’t got a lot of time.”

“Ty, you are not allowed to leave the state.”

“That’s why I don’t got a lot of time. I need you to give me those addresses so I can get there, get shit done and get home without anyone knowin’.”

“Ty, you f**k up –”

Walker stopped dead and barked into the phone, “Quit wastin’ my f**kin’ time! You gonna get me those addresses or you gonna f**k me?”

“Let me go after her.”

“No.”

“Ty, I’ll get the addresses, leave tonight.”

“No.”

“Why no?”

“She isn’t your wife, Tate, she’s mine.”

Silence.

“You’re wastin’ my time,” Walker warned.

“You bringin’ her back?” Jackson sounded disbelieving.

“Yeah,” Walker replied instantly.

“Brother –” Tate started.

“Did you not f**kin’ hear me? Martinez has got her.” Walker’s voice was low and tight with anger and impatience.

“I get you. I get what you’re feelin’ but you gotta listen to me a second, Ty. You did not see her. She stayed with Dominic but I saw her, Laurie saw her. The state you left her in, you cannot waltz into Dallas and bring that woman home.”

That thing pierced his chest again but the feeling was different. Savage. Brutal. Inflicting damage.

He powered through it.

“I’ll deal when I get there.”

“Let me go and talk to her. I’ll leave Jonas with Pop, take Laurie with me.”

“This isn’t junior high, Tate.”

“You do not know what you’re dealin’ with, Ty.”

“This is wastin’ my f**kin’ time,” he said low.

Silence then, “I’ll get the addresses, I’ll come over and I’ll go with you.”

“Suit yourself. But be here soon. You got half an hour. You aren’t here, brother, I’ll head to Dallas and find her myself.”

“Fuck, Ty, it takes twenty minutes just to drive to your place.”

“Then you better drive fast.”

Then Ty flipped his phone shut, tossed it on the bed and turned back to the dresser.