"Yes, sir." I let my head drop, prepared to take his tongue lashing because what else could I do? Telling my father I was running from a biker instead of going back to the diner to finish my shift would have disastrous consequences. I already had to deal with Mom last night when she came to see if I was okay. I lied and toldher I had thrown up, which she bought, but now I was on double dish duty for a week.
He straightened up and put his hands on his hips, and I braced myself for feeling more shame. It came right on schedule—along with his lecture.
"Racing bikes weren't built for rough terrain and you know better. If you wanted to offroad, you could use the old trail bike in the back. Bent spokes today mean a cracked rim tomorrow and a hospital visit the day after that." I hated letting him down. I usually felt the sting of it for days or hours, and without Dan or Andy here to be a buffer, he'd linger on it and remind me every time he saw me how disappointed he was.
I stood there and took it because I deserved it, even if the reason behind it was nothing close to what he thought. I could've told him the truth, but telling my dad meant he'd go straight to the sheriff, and the sheriff going after the Gravehounds never ended well for anyone. Dad had spent years keeping his distance from that club, and dragging him back into their orbit was the last thing I was going to do.
So I kept my mouth shut and said, "Yeah, I know, Daddy. I'm sorry. It won't ever happen again."
He softened after a minute, the way he always did, and kissed the top of my head before he said, "I gotta run to town to pay a few bills, honey. You get this fixed up. You know how important that race next week is…" And then he was gone, out the door and walking back to the house.
I turned back to my decrepit bike and rubbed the back of my neck. Lying to him never got any easier, though with things between me and Garret officially over, there would be less of thatnow too. I supposed that was a good thing. It just kept nagging at me along with all the other crazy emotions I was feeling as I started working on my bike again.
Mom had already left for the diner an hour ago, so once Dad's truck pulled out of the driveway, I was alone.
The shop was quiet without him. When I fought with my bike for long enough that I knew I'd never get anywhere on my own, I was ready to give up, but I heard a bike engine coming up the road toward the house.
My first thought was Garret. My stupid, hopeful heart jumped at the idea that maybe he'd come to make things right. I wiped my hands on my jeans and turned toward the open bay door with relief. Even the engine sounded like his, and that only served to make me have to fight back a smile. Until I saw Tony's cut and the black bandana on his head, and my relief died in my chest.
Every ounce of warmth drained out of my body so fast, I thought my knees were going to buckle. He was on Garret's bike, and he didn't look happy to be here.
He killed the engine and swung off the bike like he was stopping by to say hello, but the expression on his face was warped and twisted. A deep scratch stretched on his forearm, and his boots were caked in dried mud, probably from that field last night where he laid the thing.
I backed up until my hip hit the workbench and my hand found the spoke wrench behind me, but I didn't pick it up. It wouldn't matter. Tony was six feet tall and built like he'd been raised by a sasquatch, and a spoke wrench wasn't going to save me from anything.
He walked right into the shop like he owned it and didn't say a word until he was close enough that I could smell his body odor and the lingering scent of beer on his breath.
"Sara," he growled, eyes raking over my bike. With the dang thing on the rack, I couldn’t even think of running.
"Tony, I swear… I didn't see anything?—"
"Don't." He held up one finger and I stopped talking. "Don't insult me like that. You saw everything, and we both know it."
"Please, I just?—"
His hand came up and wrapped around my throat before I could move. He didn't squeeze hard, but the pressure was enough to terrify me and make it clear that squeezing harder was entirely within his plans if I gave him a reason. His fingers were rough and callused and they covered most of my neck without effort.
"You breathe a word of what you saw to anyone, and I'll have to do to you what I did to Mandy." I held my breath to avoid the stench of his, but I whimpered and pressed on his side, willing him not to hurt me. "You understand what I'm telling you?"
"Please, don't hurt me. I swear…"
"Do you understand!" he shouted, so loud it made me burst into tears.
My vision blurred and my legs went weak and I felt the warmth spread down my inner thighs before I even realized what was happening. The shame of it hit me half a second later when I realized my legs were soaked and a puddle was forming under my body. My hands rose and wrapped around his wrist as he squeezed harder, but I couldn't make him stop squeezing.
"Please," I choked out as he applied more pressure.
Tony looked down and his lip curled. "That's a shame. I was thinking about teaching you a proper lesson, but not if you're filthy." He let go of my throat and stepped back, wiping his hand on his jeans. "Clean yourself up."
I grabbed the edge of the workbench to keep from falling and my whole body shook so hard, my teeth rattled. "I'll call the sheriff."
When he chuckled it made my blood run cold. He turned over his shoulder as he walked toward the door. "You get out of this town, Sara. Tonight. Tomorrow. I don't care when, but you do it soon. And if you don't, it won't be just you who dies." He let that sit for a second before he finished. "It'll be your daddy and your mama too. And I'll make sure they know it's your fault before I'm done."
Then he turned and walked out of the shop, and I heard his bike start and the gravel crunch under his tires. I heard him ride away, but I didn't move until the sound was completely gone.
I slid down the side of the workbench and sat on the cold concrete floor in a puddle and cried until I couldn't breathe. I thought maybe he had just scared her, that after I interrupted him, he'd come after me and left her alone, but now I wasn’t sure. I was so scared he'd actually killed her, and if he did, what did that mean for me?
I couldn't think of anything to do and I was so scared. I needed help and advice. I pulled out my phone and called Garret, because he was the only person in this town who might be able to help me, and his phone went straight to voicemail again and again before I got the point. He was done with me. I'd broken it off and now he wanted nothing to do with me.
