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Her heart raced and that nauseated feeling she’d been battling returned. She shut the phone and leaned her head against the couch. Then she took a few deep inhales and exhales to settle her stomach. Pretty soon the bounty her stepfather put on her head would be more than Tish could be expected to pass up, especially since Izzy had first-hand knowledge about her gambling and debt problems.
Ten minutes later, the phone buzzed, and she read the next text:
We know you know.
She found her cup again and sipped her cold tea. Hopefully what Hawk said was correct, because she needed the caffeine for focus and the sweetness for strength. While the text inferred that her stepfather believed Tish knew of Izzy’s whereabouts, it also meant he still didn’t know where she was hiding. She was tempted to text back a bitter reply, like telling him to fuck off, but she snapped the phone closed instead. She’d worked so hard to stay below ground, she couldn’t let her anger ruin this one chance to get away. Or, worse, put Tish in even more danger.
She pushed herself up and waited a moment to make sure wasn’t wobbly on her feet. The ibuprofen was kicking in and her hand didn’t hurt as much anymore. Hawk had been correct that it hadn’t been the pain she hated, but the blood. Since her father’s accident so many years ago, she couldn’t stand the sight or smell of it.
After turning off the office light, she put Tish’s phone on the desk and carried her tea to the window covered in horizontal plastic blinds. The room was dark, but enough light filtered in beneath the bottom of the door from the hallway and through the window from the anemic street lamp outside. With two fingers, she opened the slats and peered into the dark driveway behind the building.
Although her stepfather didn’t know where she was hiding, it wouldn’t be long before he discovered her whereabouts. The bounty, along with his powerful contacts up and down the East Coast, meant she had to keep moving. And she would, once she earned enough money to fix her car and get back on the road.
The only street lamp, near the road, sparked on and off randomly, as if annoyed it actually had to work after sunset. The driveway was filled with parked motorcycles, and a flickering light appeared near the dumpster along the back wall. She blinked a few times, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The flickering light moved up and down until she realized it was the glow of a cigarette.
The summer storm clouds moved, allowing some moonlight to brighten up the area. In the shadows, near the dumpster, a man wearing a leather jacket leaned against a motorcycle, smoking. He had one leg bent so his foot could rest on the pipe. It was a confident, intimidating pose that was trying too hard to seem casual.
Or maybe that was her paranoia spinning around in her head.
She sipped her tea and watched. He stayed completely still, except for taking drags on the cigarette. From his position, he appeared focused on the back entrance. It was too dark to see his face or determine if he was a Devil’s Renegade. It was possible he was a member of the Black Jacks MC, a rival club out of Boston she’d been staying ahead of for weeks.
Unfortunately, her apartment above the bar had an outside entrance she could only access from the back of the building, not far from where that man was smoking and watching.
“Why are you here in the dark?” J.R.’s voice sounded low and concerned, and she turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, backlit by the shaky bulb in the hallway. It was as if the electricity in this tiny, mountain town only worked under protest.
“Shut the door but don’t turn on the light.”
He did as she asked and came to her.She returned to the window and, sure enough, the man was still smoking and checking out the back of the bar.
J.R. stopped next to her and whispered, “What’s going on?The prospects took over your shift. I thought you’d be tucked into bed by now.”
“Look.” She motioned for him to peek through theopeningshe made in the slats. “Do you see that man near the dumpster?”
J.R. leaneddown,peered through the opening, and squinted. “The guy smoking?”
“Yes. Have you ever seen him before?”
“It’s hard to tell in the dark.” J. R. stood andpressed his shoulder against the wall so he could study her. “Right now almost every Devil’s Renegade I know, including a few Nomads, are wreaking havoc on the bar. They’re all here for Cheery’s patching party.”
“Could that guy outside be a Devil’s Renegade Nomad?”
“I don’t know.” J.R. frowned at her. “Why? Are you being followed or something?”
The low tone in his voice held an accusation, almost as if Tish had told him about her situation and he was annoyed she hadn’t shared her story with him. Although they’d only known each other a few weeks, they’d become good friends.
She sighed and pressed her back against the wall, next to the window. “J.R., honestly, it’s best if I don’t tell you or Tish everything. But I will admit that there are people looking for me, which I think you’ve already guessed. These are dangerous people I need to stay away from for as long as I can.”
“You think that guy is watching your apartment? Waiting for you?”
“I don’t know.” She finished her cold tea and placed the cup on the desk. “But I can’t take the chance of letting him see me.”
He grunted and looked out the window again. “I have an idea. Wait here until I return.”
“Are you going to confront him?” She didn’t want J.R. getting hurt on her behalf.
He smiled at her as he opened the door. “I’m just taking out the trash.”
She looked out the window again. Her heart beat in the back of her throat, and her palms felt damp. When J.R. appeared outside, she held her breath. He carried two huge plastic garbage bags toward the dumpster, only a few feet away from the smoking man.
