Bob Claims His Property

Chapter One

Ramona

I stood in the middle of the parking lot and stared at the ‘Welcome to Skull Island’ sign like it might suddenly give me directions.

It didn’t.

Behind me, the RV gave a soft metallic tick as the engine cooled, which felt slightly insulting after the dramatic way the damn thing had died thirty seconds ago.

I turned and looked at it sitting crooked across the lines of the parking spot.

One tire was practically touching the gravel shoulder while the back end stuck out farther than it should have.

“Perfect,” I muttered. “Really making a good first impression here.”

I hitched the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder and looked around.

The place was a lot busier than I had expected.

People wandered through the parking lot in groups, laughing and talking while music drifted from somewhere beyond the trees.

Every few seconds, a scream cut through the air, followed by laughter or the loud rev of a chainsaw.

Orange lights glowed through the branches, and low fog curled across the ground farther up the path.

I knew Skull Island was some kind of haunted tourist attraction. Clint had mentioned it more than once over the years whenever Ash came up, but hearing about a motorcycle club running a haunted island and actually standing in the middle of one were two completely different things.

Another scream echoed through the trees.

I glanced in that direction. “Normal. This is completely normal.”

A woman wearing a sweatshirt with a skeleton riding a motorcycle walked past me holding a giant cup of something steaming. She gave me a quick smile before continuing toward a row of cars with two teenagers trailing behind her.

Okay.

Apparently, everyone else thought this was normal.

I dug my phone out of my bag and looked at the screen. I had service. That was good. I also had no idea who I was supposed to call, though.

Calling Clint was out. He would ask questions. Lots of questions. Then he’d probably call Ash himself before I had a chance to find him, and the last thing I needed was my big brother announcing my arrival like I was eighteen again and needed someone to come pick me up from a party.

I could figure out how to find one man on an island.

Probably.

I shoved my phone back into my bag and took three steps away from the RV before stopping.

Leaving it sitting there felt wrong. I turned around and stared at it. It wasn’t going anywhere. I knew that because it had just made its opinion on further travel very clear.

Still, almost everything I owned was inside.

Granted, everything I owned wasn’t much.

Some clothes. Food. A coffee maker I was emotionally attached to.

A television that only worked when it felt like it.

A collection of magnets from places I’d been.

Two lawn chairs, one with a broken arm because I kept forgetting to throw it away.

Not exactly a king’s ransom.

I took another step away from it. Then another.

“Looking for something?”

I jumped hard enough that my bag smacked against my hip. “Jesus Christ.” I spun around and found a man standing about ten feet away from me. “Do people normally sneak up on strangers around here, or is that part of the haunted experience?”

His eyebrows lifted.

He was big. That was my first thought. Not tall in the way where you noticed someone’s height and moved on.

Big enough that I immediately had to tip my head back slightly to look at him.

Dark jeans, boots, black T-shirt, and a leather vest covered in patches.

‘Kings of Anarchy MC’ was written over his heart.

Well, this seemed promising.

He looked past me toward the RV before bringing his attention back to me. “Didn’t sneak up on you.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“That doesn’t mean I was sneaking.”

“It kind of does.”

The corner of his mouth moved, but only slightly. “You always argue with people thirty seconds after meeting them?”

“Only when they start it.”

That got more of a reaction. Not quite a smile, but close. He jerked his chin toward the RV. “Everything okay?”

I glanced over my shoulder at it. “Define okay.”

“Running would probably be a good start.”

“Then no.”

“What happened?”

“It died.”

His eyes moved over the RV. “I got that.”

“Well, there you go. Mystery solved.”

He studied me for a second, and I got the distinct feeling he was trying to decide whether I was annoying or entertaining. I had experience with both.

“Need a tow?” he asked.

“Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“I need to find someone first.”

His expression changed slightly. It wasn’t much, but whatever amusement had been there disappeared. “Who?”

Finally. I shifted the bag on my shoulder again. “Ashland Moore.”

Nothing. Not even the slightest flicker of recognition.

I frowned. “Ashland Moore?”

“Don’t know him.”

“Yes, you do.”

His eyebrows lifted again. “Pretty sure I’d know who I know.”

“He lives here.”

“No Ashland lives here.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

“You’re with the Kings of Anarchy, right?”

He glanced down at his cut like he needed to double-check. “Last I checked.”

“And this is Skull Island?”

“Also last I checked.”

“Then Ashland lives here. Maybe you know him by Ash.”

“Nope.”

My patience, which hadn’t exactly been thriving before the RV died, started circling the drain. “Okay.” I pulled my phone from my bag again. “Maybe Clint gave me the wrong—” Then I stopped.

Bob.

Right.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that nobody here might actually use Ashland’s real name. Clint had been calling him Bob for so long that I should have figured that out before I drove onto the island and started demanding directions to a man nobody had heard of.

I slowly lowered my phone.

The biker was still watching me. “What?”

“He goes by Bob.”

Silence.

His entire face changed. Not dramatically. He didn’t gasp or clutch his pearls, but his eyes narrowed slightly and his head tipped to one side. “Bob.”

“Yes.”

“Our Bob?”

“How many Bobs do you have?”

“One.”

“Then probably that one.”

His gaze moved over me again, except this time there was a whole lot more suspicion behind it. Wonderful. “Who are you?”

“Ramona.”

“Ramona what?”

“Do I need to provide my Social Security number too?”

“Might help.”

I folded my arms. “Not happening.”

“Then last name.”

“Seriously?”

“Woman shows up after dark asking for one of my brothers by a name nobody around here knows, yeah. Seriously.”

Okay. That was fair. Annoying, but fair.

“Ramona Hill.”

He nodded slowly. “How do you know Bob?”

I let out a breath. “I’ve known Ashland since high school.”

His expression went completely blank for half a second. “You keep calling him that.”

Oh no.

I knew that look.

I pointed at him. “Don’t.”

“Ashland?”

“That is his name,” I mumbled.

“Ashland,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

He pressed his lips together.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“You look like you’re about to.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“How long I’m going to wait before telling everybody Bob’s name is Ashland.”

I closed my eyes. Fantastic. I’d been on Skull Island for maybe five minutes, and I’d already managed to betray Ashland without even seeing him. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Nope.”

“Which means he didn’t tell you.”

“Nope,” he agreed.

“And now you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Yep.”

I dropped my arms and sighed. “You’re an asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Can we pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Worth a shot.”

He finally smiled, although it didn’t last long. His eyes moved behind me again, scanning the parking lot before moving toward the trees and then back to me. There was something deliberate about the way he did it. He wasn’t just looking around. He was watching.

I noticed because I had spent the last several weeks doing the same damn thing.

Checking parking lots. Looking in mirrors. Paying attention to cars that stayed behind me too long. Watching doors. The thought made the muscles across my shoulders tighten.

I forced them to relax. I was here now.

Whatever the hell here was.

The biker looked back at me. “I’m Prime.”

“Of course you are.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. You don’t look like a Steve.”

His lips twitched again. “You don’t know any of our names, do you?”

“I know Bob.”

“Ashland.”

I pointed at him again. “We’re done with that.”

“We’re absolutely not.”

I shook my head and looked back at the RV. “Can you just tell me where he is?”

Prime didn’t answer right away. That got my attention. I turned back toward him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t a nothing pause.”

His eyes stayed on mine. Something cold crawled through my stomach.

“What?” I repeated.

“He’s not here.”

For one second, I just stared at him. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

“He’s not on the island.”

My fingers tightened around my bag strap. “Did he move?”

“No.”

“Then where is he?”

Prime hesitated.

I hated that. I hated it so much that my pulse immediately started pounding harder. “Prime.”

“The hospital.”

Everything around me seemed to get quieter even though I knew it hadn’t.

The music was still going. People were still laughing. Somewhere behind him, another chainsaw revved. But all I heard was hospital. “What happened?”

Prime’s expression closed off.

“What happened to him?” I demanded.

“He got hurt.”

“Hurt how?”

“He’s alive.”

I stared at him. That was not an answer anyone gave when someone had sprained an ankle. “How bad?”

“He’s recovering.”

“That’s also not an answer.”

“It’s the one I’m giving you.”

I took a step toward him. “I just drove all the way here to see him. If he’s in the hospital, I need to know why.”

Prime didn’t move.

“Ramona—”

“Don’t Ramona me. I don’t even know you.”

“That’s exactly why I’m not giving you details about one of my brothers standing in a parking lot.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

Damn it. That was fair too. “Can you at least tell me if he’s going to be okay?”

Prime glanced away for a second.

That scared me more than anything else had.

“He’s got a long road,” he said finally. “But yeah. He’s gonna be okay.”

My lungs finally remembered how to work.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Can I see him?”

“No.”

The relief disappeared as fast as it had come. “Excuse me?”