Chapter Thirteen
Zane
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On the ridge of Devil's Bowl, Zane peered through binoculars, viewing the side of the mountain and the valley below. He wanted to see where the new spot of smoke was coming from.
"About fifteen degrees left and a hair down from that cropping of rocks on the side of the mountain. The smoke was spiraling through the trees when I first spotted it." Snake spit on the ground. "Even with the dirt bike, it took me half an hour to return to the clubhouse."
The fire was at a location even forest firefighters couldn't reach. They'd have to send crews out to hike to the location and create a fire line.
"I'll ride back and call it in." He handed the binoculars to Snake. "It's too damn early to blame this on electric storms."
"How long would it take the fire to burn its way to Gem Haven?" Snake peered out at the land.
"Even if it goes uncontrolled, the fire won't reach us. There's two rivers and the gravel creek bottom it'd have to jump." He straddled the dirt bike he'd taken to ride up the mountain. "What bothers me is if the arsonist tries again. Will he get closer? If he does, we won't stand a chance."
"Why the fuck would someone set fire to the mountain?" muttered Snake.
He'd asked that question to himself many times. There were people who wanted Gem Haven gone. They feared having a group of bikers where they couldn't watch them. They were almost untouchable by law enforcement. If the group was trying to chase them out, it would take more than a fire.
Gem Haven belonged to his father. He'd built everything on the compound. He'd created a livelihood for every member. They were protected here to live their life the way they wanted without constraints.
"I'll send a couple of riders to relieve you until we hear how the sheriff plans to fight the fire." He flipped the kickstart and revved the motor.
Standing on the footpegs, he navigated the rocky ground until he reached the trail. The campground was closer to him than the clubhouse, and he could use the landline to call the sheriff's office.
The front wheel hit a rut, jarring the handlebars. Both arms vibrated. It'd been months since he'd had time to take the bikes out for a ride—something he and Kingsley grew up doing. The mountains were their playground, and it was there that they learned that the mountains held secrets.
Once they patched in under their father, even the weather predicted trouble.
If it wasn't another motorcycle club trying to poach their territory or lowlifes trying to make a name for themselves going up against the club, it was someone trying to set their world on fire.
His dad worked too hard, developing Gem Haven into what it was today. Hell, he'd worked too hard to keep everything going after his dad was incarcerated.
Entering the campground on the east side, he slowed. The two-cycle engine on the dirt bike was a loud motherfucker. Each campsite was full. From full-size motorhomes to tent campers, they were booked until Labor Day.
He rolled to a stop outside the cabin and got off the dirt bike. Brushing off the dust before he walked inside, he paused for a few long seconds, hearing River's voice as she directed a camper on how to follow the pathway to the bar.
River could work anywhere on the compound and succeed at the job. She was adaptable and pleasant to others. He walked inside and took the time to watch her without her being aware that he was there. If he had ridden his Harley over, she would've known he was coming before he arrived. She had trained herself to recognize the sound of the idle of his bike, which always gut-punched him.
Old ladies took pride in recognizing the sound of their man's motorcycle.
She should be his old lady.
Her hair fell, covering most of her face as she pointed at the map on the counter. "The trail is outlined with river rock. The trailhead is to the right of the bathrooms on the B section as you enter the campground."
The woman nodded. "I remember seeing that when we arrived."
"The bar opens at seven for breakfast. Drinks start at noon, and last call is at nine o'clock. The campground shuts down at ten o'clock, giving you time to come back and settle down before the gate closes." River folded the map up and handed it to the woman. "If you have any problems, the number for the cabin is on the back of the map. You can call, and someone will help you."
"Perfect. Thank you." The woman grabbed the man's hand beside her and left the cabin.
River spotted Zane and broke out with a smile, hurrying around the counter to him. He caught her before she could throw her arms around him.
"I'm dusty." He held her at arm's length. "I also need to use the phone. Where's Phil?"
"Out collecting." She walked behind the counter and set the landline on the counter.
He looked behind him. What he had to tell the sheriff wasn't something he wanted the campers to know. Right now, the wind was down and blowing in the opposite direction. None of the campers needed to worry about wildfires yet.
"I'll use the office. If Phil comes back, tell him I want to talk to him." He walked to the hallway and entered the office, shutting the door behind him.
He called Sheriff Hampton with the exact location of the fire and then sat looking out the window. He'd call a club meeting and inform everyone about the fire and the importance of keeping watch. Because he'd sent Snake out to look around, they'd caught that morning's fire soon after it started. Typically, none of his men hung out in the forest or out at Devil's Bowl. They preferred to straddle their Harley and ride on asphalt.
Standing up, he stretched his back and checked his phone. He hadn't heard from Kingsley in two days.
Unable to ride with his brother, he should've insisted that he take someone with him.
He walked out of the office. River sat behind the computer with the phone cradled in the nook of her neck. She glanced at him in question but smoothly returned to helping the person on the phone.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, and left before he could change his mind about leaving her.
Outside, he found Phil heading toward the cabin and met him halfway.
"Prez." Phil held out his hand.
He shook. "There's a fire at the bottom of Devil's Bowl. Have you had anyone asking about trails near there?"
"Devil's Bowl?" Phil blew out his lips. "Not exactly a hiker's paradise. I can't remember the last time someone wanted to explore that area."
"That's what I thought."
Phil stroked his chin. "That's about five-six miles as the crow flies. Gem Haven should be safe."
"Yeah, we're good. The sheriff is on it. He probably already has a fire crew headed there. They'll have to hike in, of course." He straightened his beard. "Keep your eyes and ears open. We don't want someone fire happy to start something closer."
"No, shit. It's the last thing we need this summer."
He walked over to the dirt bike and revved it up, cutting through the campground and taking the pathway home.
He parked the bike in the garage and looked over at the house when the phone rang, thanks to the cell booster he installed in the apartment upstairs. He answered without looking.
"Yeah?" he said.
"I'm on her trail." Kingsley's heavy breathing came fast over the phone. "I spotted Kenna last night, but before I could get to her, I lost her again. But I found a woman who shared that Kenna is staying in the next town, about fifteen miles from here. Livingston, Montana."
"Jesus. It's about time." He raked his hands through his hair. "Don't lose her."
"Trying not to." The call broke up. "I'll call—running—tomorrow."
"Watch your back, brother," he murmured before hanging up.
He paced, going over the news. There was no use getting River's hopes up. Not until Kingsley had Kenna beside him.