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Every night she left Pete’s, he followed her home. Every single night she worked.
It took a couple of days to figure out it was him. While he kept at a distance, he didn’t totally hide. It wasn’t hard to miss his tail since traffic through town at the time she left Pete’s was pretty much non-existent. It was a small family-oriented town where there wasn’t much going on past dinner time.
She had left Rochester so she could live in peace. And now, here in Manning Grove, she had a stalker.
She grabbed her purse and dug for her cell phone. Hitting the power button, her finger hovered over the nine button.
She should call the police and report him.
She should.
But tonight, like every other night recently, he didn’t stay long. The headlights cut through her CRV as he did a U-turn and headed back in the other direction.
She tossed her cell phone onto the passenger seat and started her SUV again, put it in Drive and did a U-turn of her own.
She followed him this time. Through town and to a road that led out into the country. She glanced at the street sign as she turned. County Line Road.
She kept a good distance, barely keeping his taillights in her view until they disappeared when he turned down a lane.
To a farm.
She stopped on the road at the end of the lane and watched his Expedition make its way past a large, old farmhouse and then disappear.
Did he live at this farm?
She chewed her bottom lip, debating whether to follow him down the lane or just go back to her sister’s house and climb into bed.
The latter would be the smart thing to do. She was tired and where he lived was none of her business.
But why he was following her was. That was what she wanted to know. Why the hell this man, who knew her name, who knew she’d been married, was following her home every night.
He’d only come into the bar that one time.
Just that once to talk to her.
When she refused.
But maybe it was time to get things straight with him.
She slowly made her way down the rough dirt and stone lane and as she passed the dark farmhouse, she noticed a bunch of other dark buildings. What looked like different sized sheds. Some huge, some small. But what caught her eye was the big barn.
Maybe that was “The Barn” they talked about. The MC’s clubhouse.
As she drove closer, she noticed the building didn’t have any windows on the lower level and the large ones on the second floor were dark.
Maybe the party was over.
But vehicles were still parked haphazardly around the outside. However, Judge’s Ford was not one of them.
Where did he go?
She turned off her headlights, using the December moon to light her way around the building. She headed along the right side, away from what looked like a courtyard with 55 gallon drums scattered around the area and a pavilion.
The building was surprisingly long and another newer looking building was attached to the back. Again, no windows except for a couple on the second floor.
She kept the Honda at a crawl as she got to the back corner and hooked a left. Then she slammed on the brakes as she almost hit a dark figure.
A big one.
With hands on his hips and long, endless legs spread apart.
Shit.
Before she could put the vehicle in reverse, he moved. She tried to move faster, her hand shaking as she shoved the shifter forward, but as her foot left the brake, the passenger side door opened, and he jumped in.
She slammed her foot back on the brake pedal. “Get out!”
“Why you followin’ me?” His deep voice and his larger than life presence made her SUV feel tiny.
“Why are you following me?” she countered.
Damn, he smelled like pot, beer and... leather. Plus, a mix of other things. That combo should be a huge turn-off, but on him, for some reason, it wasn’t.
It was better than cologne, hair gel and shoe polish.
So much better. Since it was real and not fake.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Get out of my car.”
“Cassie, why you here?”
“Because... Because I want to know why you’re following me.”
The only sound she heard was the beating of her heart in her ears.
He was so close.
Too close.
And he was so not her type. But her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. “You... You had me worried.”
“If you were worried, woulda called the pigs,” he grumbled.
“Pigs?”
“Cops.”
She tightened both hands on the steering wheel and stared straight out of the windshield. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. He was too close. Just inches away. “Just tell me why. Tell me how you knew my name. How you knew I’d been married. Why do you know any of that? Why do you even care to know?”
