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For the next while, yes, so she had no distractions. Some would call that mean, even callous. But she had to draw a line somewhere.
Blane took and took but gave nothing in return.
Sage needed all her energy and focus on doing what she did best – research, plan, execute. As an entrepreneur and former corporate consultant, she excelled at all three.
And when it came to Rosemary’s justice, execute was the only goal.
The first step in Sage’s plan - moving here and getting to know the lay of the land - was done.
She’d bought a farm across the road from the Hellraisers & Hellions MC, H&H as they were known in these parts. And yes, Sage knew exactly who they were and what they did. It was the only reason she bought the place. Hellraisers were known rivals to Midnight Carnage, who’d recently expanded into Alberta.
A month ago, the H&H crew had approached Sage to view her security footage of the road that bypassed both properties. She’d set up a lot of cameras to protect her farm, her investment. Sage was determined, not stupid. And the timing was perfect. They’d approached her and now it was time to get the next step in motion.
The rumor around Longford was that Sage had a nervous breakdown and that she’d moved here to heal. She made no effort to correct them. It was partially true. There was something healing about being surrounded by nature.
But Sage hadn’t suffered a breakdown. Even if her friends back in B.C. had warned her that she should be focusing on the living rather than the dead.
If anything, her steely resolve hardened…
As twilight turned to darkness, she glanced at her security feed. Saturday night was party central across the road and Sage noted the motorcade of Hellraiser motorcycles that drove past her farm.
She was prepared to do whatever was necessary to get justice for her sister. To find the monster who took Rosemary’s life.
Sage knew that if you wanted to catch the devil, you had to be willing to sin.
2
DANTE
“Your bike will be ready in a week’s time.”
Dante wiped his hands on a rag as he leaned over and talked into his cell, his client on speakerphone. It was nearing eight on a Saturday and he was done. He needed to get back to his club to get ready for the party.
“Come on, man. I need my wheels this weekend!”
“You want this fixed right, Kenny? Or do you want to stall out on a highway in the middle of fucking nowhere? Cause I’m telling you, the bike’s engine is fucked and I don’t have time to finish it until next week. Come back here Saturday. Noon,” Dante snapped and hung up.
If Kenny called back one more time…
He was getting on Dante’s last nerve. One thing Dante didn’t have time for was whiny bitches.
As a biker and a mechanic, Dante knew his shit. He hated being second guessed.
And as a marine, he also knew that sometimes giving an order was the only way to talk to people.
Give them a choice, they’ll pick the easy way out or nag you to death. Telling them what to do saved everyone a shitload of trouble.
Dante loved his work but some days it didn’t pay to run a body shop.
Then again, the money was good. It was a legit business. And it helped when his club’s not so legal activities required them to lay low. He just didn’t have the patience lately for customer service.
Unless the customer he was serving was a woman. Then he had all the time in the world.
Dante stood up and stared at his reflection in the shop’s window, and at the grease stains on his face and arms. He wasn’t as tall as most of his brothers, but he made up for it in bulk. With thick black hair, dark brown eyes, a cut jaw, and a pierced dick, he had no problem scoring with women. And as a member of the Hellraisers & Hellions MC, just the sight of him on his sled had bitches hot and eager.
He scored. A lot.
And tonight would be no different.
