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As soon as we round the corner onto the quieter street, it feels as though we’re in a different world entirely. Since this street has no shops along it, most of the tourists avoid this area, condensing on the streets closer to the main attractions of Whitfield.
For some reason, as soon as we turn onto the side street, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. This town normally feels so safe and lively; I never worry about where I park my car. But suddenly, I have an unnerving sense that someone’s watching me.
Glancing up and down the street, I slow my steps to see if I can spot anything that might have triggered my sense of unease. Starla slows with me, her eyes glancing at me questioningly.
“You forget something?” she asks, trying to assess my shift in mood.
I shake my head, trying to shrug off my nerves as I can’t find anything out of the ordinary. “It’s nothing.”
But as we reach Ruby, I’m struck with the realization that perhaps my anxiety really did mean something.
Starla gasps as soon as her eyes land on my new car. “Someone slashed your tires,” she says in horror as she leans down to take a closer look.
My stomach knots painfully at the violent gashes on both tires next to the curb. It seems the person who did it only went for one side, probably trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as they walked by my car. I’m speechless with sudden icy fear.Could this be a random attack, some angry person out to wreak general destruction?But none of the other cars along the street seem to have suffered the same fate. In fact, they don’t appear to be harmed in any way.No, this was a personal attack. But who could possibly want to target me?A creeping sense of foreboding raises goose bumps on my arms.
“Let’s get back onto Mainstreet. We can wait in Honey Bee’s while I call Gabe,” I say.
Starla doesn’t hesitate to follow me, and we both pick up a hurried pace, eager to get back into the bustling crowd moving down the sidewalks. Resting a hand protectively over my baby girl, I hope whatever this is about doesn’t put her life at risk.
I dial Gabriel as we walk and listen as the phone rings and rings. Finally, it takes me to his voicemail. I hang up and try again. Once more, I’m sent to voicemail, and this time I leave him a brief message, asking him to call me back as soon as possible.
“He’s not picking up,” I explain, worry tinging my voice, as we reenter Honey Bee’s.
“Should I try Dally?” Starla suggests.
“You do that. I’ll call Rico,” I say.
After a minute, Starla’s own anxiety seems to grow as she removes her phone from her ear. I’m still listening to Rico’s phone ring.
“Dally’s not answering either,” she explains.
Normally, I might not think anything of it if Gabe didn’t answer me right away. But the fact that Dallas isn’t answering either and the tires on my car have been slashed, I get a terrible feeling that something bad has happened.
Then, after countless rings, Rico finally answers his phone with an abrupt, “Winter? Where are you? Are you girls okay?”
My heart stops at the intense anxiety in his voice.
12
Gabriel
After our meeting,as the last of the new members head out the door on their way to receive a new delivery from John, Dally steps behind the bar of the clubhouse to grab four beers.
“Go on home, Shelby. Take a break. The boys won’t be back until this evening,” I say. “We know how to open a bottle of beer in the meantime.”
“I’m sure you do,” she says wryly, watching Dallas open three beers using the fourth beer bottle cap. Gathering her purse from behind the counter, she stalks toward the clubhouse door.
“Mmm, I might have to get me some of that,” Rico says, his eyes following her jean-clad hips as they sway with the motion of her strides.
“You better not go chasing off our bartender,” I warn him. “Don’t fuck her unless you want something more than a cheap lay. That’s what the club girls are for. I refuse to replace our bartender every time you want to stick your dick in someone.”
“Well, you haven’t gotten many club girls for us, now have you? So what’s a man to do? I follow you across state lines to help you open a new chapter of the club, and what kind of thanks do I get?” Rico whines.
I roll my eyes. I’ll admit I’ve been less than on top of it when it comes to drawing in the pussy for my guys. But that’s more a luxury they’ll get once we’re fully established and have made a name for ourselves in town. Girls don’t tend to want to spread their legs just because you say you own a bike. We have to prove our mettle if they’re going to come. That’s part of what it means to be a Devil’s Son.
“Why don’t I put you in charge of that, then?” I offer ironically. “You can put together a nice team of club girls for all the horny guys.”
“Maybe I will,” Rico says, though the way he glares at me over his beer tells me he knows I’m making fun of him.
