Stefania stops moving the minute Dove walks into the club. Dove notices the grim expression on Stefania’s face as she approaches. She is all badass bitch tonight. Skin-tight leather pants, cropped shirt, and leather vest. Her eyes are rimmed in dark kohl liner, and the bleach-blonde ends of her hair are as straight and sharp as a spear-point blade.
“What?” Dove immediately asks.
Stefania says nothing, just hands her the envelope with her name etched across it. I watch from the end of the bar with morbid fascination.What in the hell could be in that letter?
Sliding the tip of her finger under the flap, Dove rips the letter open.
She unfolds the paper and reads quietly to herself. She stands there staring at the words for an unusually long amount of time. An alarmingly long amount of time. Stefania and I wait for a reaction. Stefania’s eyes never leaving Dove’s face.
Dove finally lowers the letter to her side, then she drops it onto the floor. Hauntingly silent, she walks away. Her combat boots barely making a noise across the floor.
Stefania snatches up the letter and reads it obsessively.
“No.” She shakes her head, disbelieving, her mouth curved into an upside-down U. “No, this mustn't be.”
“What is it?” I have to know. The suspense has been killing me all day.
Stefania puts one hand on my chest. “Go after her. Don’t let her be alone.”
“Why? What is it?” I push.
“It doesn’t matter right now. She just can’t be alone.”
I don’t argue. I just rush out the door hot on Dove’s heels. I see her climbing onto her bike, and I barely have enough time to start the engine in my truck and tail her.
She flies down the city streets, ignoring traffic signals and pedestrians. I swerve, almost taking out a slow-moving group of college kids.
Sorry.
I step on the gas as we leave the city and break out onto the open road. She’s easily hitting a hundred and giving me heart palpitations all the while. It’s too fast on a bike, even if she’s a skilled rider.
We travel through the dark desert, the stars a blanket shimmering like a diamond tapestry above our heads.
We drive and drive until she finally decides on a destination.
A biker bar. On the outskirts of town.
I leave her be as she parks and tosses her helmet onto the handlebars. I observe in the back of the dusty lot, obscured but with a good view. Dove disappears inside, and I wait.
What the hell was in that letter?
Five minutes pass, and I decide to go in.
The inside of the bar is dark and musty with neon lights and a classic rock band playing on the small stage. Seedy eyes follow me as I walk past pool tables and heated dart games.
There may be a bar fight in my future.
I stay the course though, searching Dove out. I find her in a corner with the company of Jose Cuervo. A whole bottle and one little shot glass.
The band entertains the sketchy crowd with a cover of “American Girl” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. One of my favorites.
I stalk up on Dove, fully prepared for some resistance.
“This seat taken?”
She slides her eyes up to mine. Her eyeliner is smudged, and her cheeks are pink. It’s an unnatural rosy color. Like a shade of devastation.
“Can you ever just leave me alone?” She pours a shot and drinks it.
