"He didn't have to say it specifically, right? That's how these things work." I picked up the bourbon glass and spun it in my fingers, trying to force the craving to have more down. "He saidthe Locusts had nothing to do with Mandy's murder." I set the glass down and studied him. For years we'd been fighting these losers from a town over all because someone said they suspected a Locust as Mandy's killer and Fox won't come off it. "What do you think?"
Lightning's face contorted into disgust and then contempt. "Of course he had reason to lie," he said, "he was trying to save his own ass."
"Maybe. But he also said if we don't lay off and stay out of their business, they're gonna burn down the Anvil." I held his stare. "And he didn't sound like he was bluffing."
Lightning went still but his expression darkened. The Anvil was more than a bar to the Gravehounds. It was headquarters, meeting place, and home base all wrapped into one building. Losing it would gut the club's presence in Grove Hill.
"They wouldn't dare," he said, almost deathly quiet. He glanced around the diner then to Butch and Rusty, and back to me.
"That's what he told me, word for word," I said. "He said they'll torch it and everything inside if we don't back down."
He leaned forward, pressing the pointer finger on his right hand into the table between us. "Then it's time to stop playing defense."
"Meaning what?" I asked. If I had my druthers, I'd have ended this dumb feud years ago. We kept beating the hell out of each other over something no one had proof about. Now we were at the point where they were threatening church, and it would mean more than just busted knuckles. Someone could die over this.
"Meaning we go on the offensive. We organize something big enough to draw their president out into the open." He jabbed his finger against the table harder, then tapped a few times. "If he's the one who ordered the hit on Mandy, we force his hand and make him answer for it."
"And how exactly do we do that?" I scoffed but didn't tell him how stupid that sounded. Attacking their president was the dumbest move. It would assure retaliation happened. "We don't need a war."
"It's been a war since Mandy died," he fired back. "We've just been too cautious to fight it." He sat back and crossed his arms. "All we need is Fox's blessing. I'll handle that."
"Fox isn't gonna sign off on an all-out assault without proof," I said.
"Fox is grieving his wife and he wants blood. He'll sign off on whatever I tell him to." Lightning stood up from the table and jerked his cut straight. "Get yourself cleaned up and get some rest, Crank. When this thing kicks off, I need you ready."
I hated the way he spat my name like an insult but I was glad he walked away. The man was an idiot, pushing to keep this feud going when every club member I spoke to knew it was risky and stupid. If we all stood up to him he'd have no choice but to back down. The problem was we'd all taken an oath to respect the chain of command, and ever since Fox put Lightning at the top, we'd had problems.
The glass in front of me called to me, beckoning me to fill it and drink, but I pushed it away and stood. I needed some air to clear my head. I walked past the register, nodding at the waitressthere and hoping to see Sara before I left, but she was hiding and I didn't blame her.
Tonight, I hoped to get to the bottom of why she was acting so weird, and I had only one intention. My personal life was mine and Lightning couldn’t give me orders over who I slept with. If for no other reason than to tick him off, I wanted to see Sara tonight. And I had every intention of seeing how she felt about all of this.
I'd spent way too long on this yoyo trying to decide where I stood. Maybe her thoughts would help me pick a side and stay there.
17
SARA
I sat on my dirtbike outside the diner for five minutes after my shift ended, staring at my phone and typing and deleting and typing again before I finally sent it. I knew what Garret wanted and there was no way I could bring myself to do it. With Tony watching my every move, it was safer to meet somewhere far away from his prying eyes.
If I rocked up to Garret's trailer this time of night, they'd hear me coming a mile away, but the same was true at my place. If Garret got followed to Dad's shop, we'd hear Tony coming and be able to hide the bike. This way was safer. I just hoped he agreed to it.
Sara: 10:47 PM: Can't come to your place. Meet me behind the engine shop in thirty minutes. Park on the far side where nobody can see your bike.
His reply came back in under ten seconds like he'd been waiting for me to show up.
Garret: 10:47 PM: I'll be there.
The confirmation took some of the tension out of my shoulders and I kicked my bike to life and rode home. When I got there, I went straight to the back bedroom where Kip was sleeping. He was curled on his side with his blanket kicked to the foot of the bed and his mouth hanging open, finally breathing without coughing. His fever had broken sometime in the evening according to Tiffany's text, and the color in his cheeks had gone from flushed back to normal.
I pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and pressed my lips against his forehead and held them there until I was sure he was cool to the touch. Then slipped back out with the reassurance that he was fine and I had a few minutes to myself.
Tiffany was asleep on the couch in the living room with the television on low. I tried not to wake her as I grabbed a jacket off the hook by the back door and slipped outside into the darkness.
The engine shop sat about sixty yards behind the house, connected by a gravel path that my dad had worn smooth over thirty years of walking it twice a day. The building was dark and the bay doors were closed, and beyond it the meadow stretched out under a sky full of stars.
It was a beautiful night too, not too chilly despite fall closing in. It reminded me of a few times Id' snuck out of the house to meet with Garret down by the river, less than half a mile from here. That brought a smile to my lips as the distant rumble of a motorcycle approaching met my ears.
When his headlight swept across the front of the shop I stepped out and waved him toward the far side of the building where the shadow from the roofline would hide his bike. He killed the engine and dismounted, and I could see the stiffness in his posture from twenty feet away. He looked too tense, which Iwanted to immediately remedy for him because old habits die hard, and love just never gives up.
