2. Bobbie
Chapter two
Bobbie
I rubbed the scar in my palm out of habit, left there by the marriage pact I swore to Arrow all those years ago. A childish, foolish promise, sealed in blood. As if that was supposed to mean something. As if that would make it impossible to break.
I lingered on the other side of the street, watching the hustle and bustle of Steele Repair Auto Shop where Arrow worked.
Psycho, I corrected myself. He’s known as Psycho now.
Did he choose that nickname for himself? Was it some tongue-in-cheek irony to take the sting out of the struggles he’d endured with his mental health?
Or did his friends call him that? The crazy one. The lunatic. The psycho.
Arrow closed the hood of the minivan he was working on, gathering his tools from his workbench and piling them into his toolbox.
He looked good. Really good.
Taller than I remembered. With broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a scruffy five o’clock shadow that darkened his jawline. Back when we were kids, he used to keep his hair cut short in a bristly buzzcut. But now it was long enough that I could run my fingers through it, silky black strands like ink.
As Arrow reached to retrieve a wrench, his henley rode up a few inches, exposing a swath of tattoo at his side.
He used to be a quiet, introspective boy, prone to long bouts of silences when he was caught up in his own thoughts.
The man I saw before me was…different. Effortlessly masculine, confident. And hot. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
I chewed my thumbnail, hugging my knees to my chest. Guilt gnawed at my gut for avoiding him.
It’s not stalking, I reasoned. I’m simply observing. From a distance. In secret.
Over the years, I had accumulated a variety of diagnoses from a smorgasbord of specialists—bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, anxiety, depression, attachment trauma.
The end result was the same: I ruined everything I touched.
Holding down a career was suffocating. Dating felt like navigating a mine field. One wrong step and the relationship exploded.
I didn’t just burn bridges. I obliterated them like an atomic bomb, with nothing but a nuclear wasteland left in my wake.
That’s how I ended up in this little town to begin with. I lost everything in Nashville, Tennessee—my boyfriend, my job, my apartment. And the stress triggered a manic episode. I had to get the hell out of that city. I had to move. I had to just…go away.
Deep down, I wanted to escape myself and my dysfunctional brain most of all. But I couldn’t. So, I did what I always do.
I ran.
A few days later, I stumbled into Juniper Creek, Colorado. While I wolfed down a burger and fries at The Huckleberry Diner—my first real meal since hitting the road that didn’t come from a vending machine—I spotted Arrow.
At first, I didn’t recognize him. We weren’t kids anymore, and he had changed so much since the last time we saw each other.
He traipsed into the diner with a group of bikers, all wearing the same black leather vest. Across the back was a patch that declared his loyalty to The Reckless Order MC.
They called him friend. They called him brother.
This is exactly what Arrow and I had spent hours fantasizing about while we were in foster care, back in Utah. Finding a place to belong, having a home of our own.
It looked like he managed to pull that off.
Meanwhile, I was still drifting around like a tumbleweed.
I could have walked right up to Arrow at that moment and greeted him. But then one of his biker buddies cracked a joke, and he laughed.
Arrow rarely laughed when we were in foster care. He might manage a small smile, or a little chuckle. But he never laughed like that, from deep in his belly, with his head thrown back.
I couldn’t bring myself to barge into his life. I couldn’t dump the wreckage of my past—our past—in his lap again.
Fifteen minutes later, I had slipped out the diner’s back door, and I was on the road, with my thumb out, attempting to wave down a ride as cars whizzed by.
Then I stopped.
From my vantage point on the sloping road, I had a clear overlook of Juniper Creek. Hedged by mountains like a stone wall of protection. There was nothing special about it—a perfectly ordinary, sleepy town in the countryside.
To my eyes though…it was the sweetest slice of heaven. Because this was Arrow’s home. And he was happy.
I should have left that day.
Instead, I was still here, and Arrow had no idea.
I just wanted to be close to him in the safest possible way. Without hurting him. Because I always hurt the people I cared about in the end. Even if I didn’t mean to.
Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from Arrow, heading through town on foot.
When I became a snitch for The Reckless Order, it had been a stupid mistake. Especially since it increased the chances of crossing Arrow’s path at any time.
But I didn’t try to get out of it either.
Dropping the name of a biker into casual conversation around here turned out to be a powerful tool to have. All I had to do was mention Hillbilly, or Psycho, or Ironside, and suddenly, people were willing to tell me anything I wanted to know.
These men held a certain level of power in this town, and I had to admit, it was a little intoxicating.
A gust of autumn wind made me shiver in my jacket.
Winter in Juniper Creek could be brutal, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
The snow was magical and breathtaking, but the temperatures could drop well below zero.
I’d endured many bitterly cold nights, huddled in the back of the ancient Range Rover I bought two years ago.
Up ahead, I spotted the Juniper Creek Fire Department—a large, old-fashioned building, with a rust-red brick facade, and the foundation date etched into a cornerstone, 1901. The bay doors were open, with firefighters milling around, washing the trucks.
That’s what they were supposed to be doing anyway.
Instead, they were dousing each other with the hoses, or pelting each other with soapy sponges.
I waited on the corner, out of sight, until Chief Barrett Kent came striding into view.
“Quit messing around and get back to work,” he barked. “I want to see these trucks polished to a shine within the hour.”
The firefighters returned to their task, while Barrett surveyed them for a minute or two. Then he came striding toward me, taking my elbow and leading me around the corner.
“You’re kind of a hardass,” I said with amusement.
He huffed.
“I’m the Chief. That’s part of my job description. Now, what did I tell you about snooping around?”
I sighed and fiddled with the sleeves of my jacket, tugging them down over my hands.
“I’m being careful.”
“That’s not the point, Bobbie.”
He grumbled and flicked a white envelope from his back pocket, holding it out to me. When I reached for it, he snatched it away.
“You should leave Huxley to the police. Do you have some connection to him? Are you worried he might come after you?”
I shook my head, my gaze locked on that envelope in his hand.
During my first winter in Juniper Creek, I didn’t have my car yet, and the local homeless shelter was full.
So, I slept where I could—on park benches, in an abandoned campground, squatting in empty houses.
Barrett found me huddled in a ratty sleeping bag under a bridge, half frozen.
He brought me back to the fire station, getting me warm again with cups of hot cocoa.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t dream of dragging Barrett into this. I owed him too much already after everything he’d done for me.
But he had ties I could use, and information I needed.
“No, not me,” I replied. “A friend.”
When I found out that Arrow was a member of The Reckless Order MC, I went digging for every morsel of news that I could get my hands on, everything I had missed after we lost touch years ago.
That’s how I found out the history between Huxley and Arrow. And now that Huxley had escaped prison, there was no way I would sit around, twiddling my thumbs, when he had Arrow in his crosshairs.
Barrett pressed his lips together with disapproval, tapping the envelope against his palm. I raised my eyebrows, waiting.
“The fire station is hiring,” he said. “We’re looking for an office assistant. Someone who can keep everything organized. It would put cash in your pocket and a roof over your head.”
“Thanks, but I already have a job.”
Barrett shot me a withering look. He clearly didn’t buy that.
But it wasn’t a lie. I worked odd jobs here and there. Mostly part-time gigs that were willing to pay me under the table. And since they were temporary, I didn't have to stick around for long. It was easier that way—less pressure and fewer expectations.
“I appreciate the offer,” I added. “It’s just…I feel like a wild animal when I’m chained to a desk. It doesn’t take long before I lose my shit eventually.”
Barrett breathed a faint laugh and nodded.
“Fair enough. I don’t blame you. Paperwork is the bane of my existence. I miss the simpler days when I was just a smoke eater, instead of Chief.”
At last, he handed over the envelope. I opened it to find three grainy pictures of Huxley, caught on a local gas station’s security camera. Accompanying the pictures was a list of credit card transactions, under a fake name.
Private information like this was hard to come by. Barrett really went the extra mile for me.
“I have a daughter about your age, you know.”
I glanced up. He had mentioned his daughter a few times in the past. Bubbly, charming Ruby, the town’s sweetheart. Everyone loved her.
“She would get mixed up with the wrong guys sometimes,” Barrett went on. “Guys who didn’t realize how precious she was.”
My throat grew tight and I looked away.
When I was eight years old, my parents gave me up for adoption. They had five other kids to care for, well-behaved, healthy, and accomplished.
But I was the problem child that nobody wanted in the first place. And with my laundry list of behavioral issues, my mother made it very clear what she thought of me.
You’re just too difficult, Roberta. I can’t deal with you.
I closed my eyes at the memory. Those were the last words she said to me before I was surrendered to foster care.
My father remained silent. I couldn’t tell if that was better or worse. He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t fight for me either. There was…nothing.
He certainly didn’t talk about me the way Barrett talked about his daughter.
“What are you getting at, Chief?” I prompted.
He crossed his arms.
“You’re keeping tabs on a fugitive for this friend, Bobbie. A violent fugitive.”
I took a breath to argue, but he plowed on, driving his point home like a kick to the chest.
“Does he even know you’re doing this in the first place?”
I bristled and stuffed the envelope into my jacket pocket.
“I have to go.”
Barrett caught my elbow lightly.
“Don’t do that,” he said, quiet but firm. “Don’t go running off. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
I rocked back on my heels. I liked Barrett. There was something comforting and soothing about his presence. He could be tough and stern at times, but he was patient, too. And in a way…I guess he felt like a father figure to me.
But he had a steady life—a good life.
He had a respectable career with the fire department, working his way up from cadet to chief. He was on amiable terms with his ex-wife after their divorce, and he had a beautiful, successful daughter. He even had grandkids, for Christ’s sake.
He didn’t know what it was like to watch your life fall apart, over and over, because your own brain didn’t work right.
Arrow was the only friend I had in this world. And I would do everything in my power to protect him. That included protecting him from me. I had to keep my distance, for Arrow’s sake.
“I’m just worried about him,” I muttered.
Barrett’s gaze softened.
“I’ll let you know if I hear any further developments. In the meantime, why don’t you come inside? I can make hot cocoa.”
I managed a small smile of gratitude.
“Believe me, that’s very tempting. But I really do need to go.”
Barrett nodded and released my elbow.
“Watch your back out there, Bobbie. And I hope your friend is worth it.”
He is, I thought. He’s worth everything and more.