3 - Thea
Thea
I AM FROZEN in the classroom after Kilian Rutherford walks out. My hands are still trembling, so I press them flat on the desk to ground myself.
That man, he’s trouble. I knew the second he walked in, and every minute since has confirmed it. I read about people like him, but never expected to meet one here, of all places.
Stay away from my family.
His voice replays in my head, and I drag in a shaky breath and release it slow.
There is no way I’m wrong about this. Every instinct I have screams that he’s dangerous. The leather jacket, the tattoos on his forearms and creeping up his neck. The stare. Who speaks like that if they’re not trying to intimidate?
Seeing this as the perfect opportunity that it is, my resolve hardens.
I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.
I’m rattled, sure, but I’m not backing down.
If anything, his warning only confirms that I am onto something.
Sara needs someone in her corner. From what I’ve gathered, the girl doesn’t have parents, not a single relative.
Only him. Only this man as her guardian.
If Kilian Rutherford thinks his intimidation will scare me off, he’s mistaken. Wait ’til I have more than a gut feeling… when I have real evidence, and I’ll go to the police.
But first, I need to follow him. The plan feels reckless the moment it forms. If anyone sees me, if he sees me, I could lose this job before my first paycheck clears. They’ll say I’m unstable, unprofessional... a crazy woman harassing a parent.
No! I’m a teacher, and I can’t turn a blind eye. If it means playing detective for an afternoon, then that’s what I’ll do.
Outside, the sun is still high up. I hurry across the parking lot to my Honda.
If I focus hard enough, I can still make out the rumble of his bike, fading but not gone. He can’t be too far ahead. A couple of intersections, maybe. Ah shit, there are no traffic lights here, there’s nothing slowing him down.
I get inside my car quickly. I can’t lose him.
In a town this small, trailing someone without being noticed is a real challenge. It’s already past the school pickup time, and the streets are almost empty. I have to maintain my distance.
As I drive, I see him.
He passes by the main street and then takes a left, right at the corner with the fire danger rating board. Today, the arrow points to yellow. It’s pointed to yellow every single day since I arrived, and yellow is High. I wonder if the arrow is stuck.
I count to five before mirroring his turn, and by the time I round the corner, he’s already pulling into a gravel lot in front of a small metal building.
The sign above reads Kade’s Garage. I ease my Honda behind an old truck and kill the engine fast. It’s a private road from the look of it, but there are enough vehicles parked along the stretch that I can tuck myself in between to keep me hidden.
From my spot, I can see him clearly. He got off his bike with ease, his boots crunching on the gravel when he walk up to greet another guy.
This one’s huge too, with a grease-streaked cloth in his hand and tattoos snaking up his arms just like Kilian Rutherford.
This must be Kade, and he looks just as bad.
I grip the steering wheel. I’m not wrong about him.
Suddenly, three more men step out from inside. They’re all built from the same mold as Kilian and this man, Kade. They’re all wearing identical black leather vests, except for the mechanic. The group breaks into an explosion of man-hugs, back-slapping, shaking hands.
A motorcycle club.
My mind latches onto the thought, and it immediately becomes a synonym for gang. Criminals. Every single one of them.
My instincts have kept me safe my whole life, and right now every single one of them is screaming at me.
They’re talking. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but I can see their gestures.
My phone buzzes suddenly, and I glance down to see a notification reminding me to order stickers from .
I scheduled the reminder for five-thirty, which means I’ve been sitting here for a while now.
The sun’s about to set. I should probably just go home...
I haven’t found anything concrete yet. But at least I know he hangs out with this Kade guy, and they’re definitely part of a gang.
I’m still looking at my phone when a low rumble shakes the ground. My gaze snaps up. They’re mounted on their bikes now, engines snarling to life one by one, and the whole group is heading out.
My heart hammers, and I slide down until I’m almost horizontal in my seat as the first motorcycle thunders past. I hope this truck I’ve park behind shields me enough. Spying is no joke.
When the last bike growls past, I let out a breath I’m holding. My hands are shaky as I fumble with the key in the ignition. Time to get out of here before anyone catches me.
I turn the key.
My car won’t start.
I try again. Click. Click. Nothing.
You’ve got to be kidding me!
I slump back in the seat, staring at the dashboard with a hollow kind of disbelief.
My car chooses this exact moment to die? Right outside a sketchy garage owned by someone who’s in a gang with the man I’m spying on?
I drag in a deep breath, letting it seep out slow, through my mouth, trying to unclench the vise around my chest. Panicking won’t start the engine. Think, Thea, think. If only I were still in my hometown, I could call my friends. They’ll be here in a heartbeat.
But here in Hillcrest... The only person who can help me right now is the mechanic I’ve been watching alongside Kilian Rutherford.
I twist my key again, just to be sure, listening to the click-click of a dead engine. Nope. Nothing. My hands drop to my lap, my gaze flicking to the garage. The universe is testing my resolve.
I should get help.
But what if the mechanic knows I’ve been watching? I swallow hard, forcing the panic down. I can’t let the what-ifs take the wheel. I’m a teacher, for heaven’s sake. I can manage this.
Stepping out, I sling my bag over my shoulder. My heart pounds with every step I take. My car just died. Out of nowhere. That’s the story I’m sticking to.
The broad-shouldered guy looks up as I approach.
His face splits into a smile, and I’m caught off guard by how easy it sits on him, which is in contrast to the hulky, inked frame he has.
Kindness from a man who looks like that feels like a trap, so I dare not lower my guard.
Still, I plaster on a polite expression.
“Hi,” I manage, forcing the greeting out. “Um, I’m Thea. I’m new here and my car just… stopped. It won’t start. I was hoping you could take a look?”
“Kade,” he says, not missing a beat. “Where is it?”
“Parked just outside.”
He follows my gaze toward the road that leads to absolutely no other place except his garage.
“Just outside?”
“Yeah, behind the truck,” I say, and I point in the direction of my car with a hand that doesn’t feel attached to the rest of me.
“That’s a convenient spot.” He says it easy enough, but the words land in the center of my guilt. I have to remind myself that he’s a mechanic, not a detective. “Gimme a sec to grab some tools. We’ll get you sorted.”
I nod, clutching my bag strap a little tighter.
“Bet that city car isn’t used to tailing through these mountains.”
The voice rumbles from the back of the garage, rough and edged with knowing. My stomach free-falls straight into the ground. I don’t need to turn to know who it is. That voice has been burned into my brain. Still, I turn, because the stupid part of me needs to confirm the threat with my own eyes.
And there he is. Kilian Rutherford. Arms folded over that broad chest, his gaze pinning me in place.
He knows? I followed him, and he caught me. My throat tightens, panic squeezing until I can barely swallow.
This is embarrassing. No, not just embarrassing but terrifying. What will he do now? I open my mouth to deny it, to say anything, but nothing comes.
Before Kilian can say anything more, Kade goes to him, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, prez. Let’s not scare the lady off before I fix her ride.” He turns to me and holds out a hand. “Keys?”
I fumble them out of my bag before passing them over.
Kade nods. “Just stay here.” He gives Kilian a look before heading out to the lot.
Prez. He called him prez. I turn the word over in my head, and there is really only one thing it can be short for. President. Kilian Rutherford is the president of a gang.
I keep my eyes on his bike. It’s right there in front of the garage, and I don’t know how I missed it coming in because anyone who wasn’t sleepwalking could see it. I walked in here completely unprepared when I didn’t have to be.
He hasn’t moved. I know that without looking because the garage is quiet. But I can feel his stare. What is he thinking?
The quiet stretches, and I let it. Counting the seconds until Kade comes back instead. When he does, there’s a rag between his hands, and he’s glancing between us.
“The alternator’s shot. Can’t get a replacement ’til tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? I can’t leave my car here overnight! I need to get home.
“Oh. Is there an Uber around here?”
“Uber? Nah.” Kade laughs, shaking his head while he continues to wipe his hands. “Where do you live?”
“Near the school. Hillcrest Primary.”
Kade jerks his chin toward the back. ”Kilian here will drop you off.”
OMG! This can’t be happening.
“Um, no need… I will just… walk… I can walk home.” My entire body is screaming no.
Kade whistles, low and drawn-out, almost telling me how stupid that suggestion was. “That’s a solid hour on foot. And it’s getting dark.”
I open my mouth to argue anyway, to insist on the walk, but before I can form a single word, Kilian pushes off the wall.
“Come,” he says, and I don’t know what it is about that one word, but my feet are already moving, following him.