Chapter 3
SAVANNAH
T he bells over the door jingled as I stepped into the only local coffee shop in Crossbend, Throttle and Pour. I let the scent of freshly ground beans calm my nerves.
The place wasn’t homey like Bean There Brewed That but had its own charm. There were chalkboard menus, mismatched mugs on display, and a plant wall near the front counter that looked lovingly maintained.
A woman in her forties stood behind the counter, wiping the top down with a practiced hand. She wore a band tee under a faded flannel and had a streak of silver in her otherwise dark hair. Glancing up as I approached, she offered a guarded smile. “Looking for something in particular?”
“Actually, yeah.” I pulled a copy of my résumé from my backpack. “I saw the Now Hiring sign in the window and wanted to apply. I have lots of barista experience.”
She set the rag down and took the paper, scanning it quickly. “Savannah Quincy?”
“That’s me.”
“You’re from Wedgewood but want to drive to Crossbend to work?” She glanced at my résumé again, and her brow furrowed. “Why’re you leaving Bean There Brewed That?”
I blinked, wanting to kick myself for not thinking up an answer to this obvious question at some point over the past three days.
It had seemed safer to do my digging in person during the day instead of at night, so I’d had to wait until I wasn’t working.
“You know how it is in a small town, no real chance to spread your wings when everyone’s known you since before you could walk.
I figured this was about as far away as I could get without having to move out of my apartment because that’s such a pain. ”
“Can’t argue with that logic.” She skimmed the details of my job experience and nodded. “You’re qualified, I’ll give you that.”
“I’ve spent plenty of time at the espresso machine, grinder, and frother.
” I offered a confident smile. “I practiced my skills on my brother, Devon Quincy, for years.” I looked for a spark of recognition in her eyes, but when I didn’t see one, I continued.
“And I’ve dealt with all sorts of clientele, so you don’t need to worry about me getting flustered if Kane Beckett or any of the guys in his MC come in for coffee. ”
“We get all kinds of customers.”
Her answer didn’t tell me anything at all, unfortunately. “So they come in here often?”
Something behind her eyes sharpened. “If you’re planning to ask questions about the Redline Kings, you’re wasting your time.”
The shift in her tone wasn’t hostile, but it was final.
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m not sure how much y’all know about the club over in Wedgewood, but here in Crossbend, we don’t gossip about the Redline Kings. Especially not with outsiders.”
“Oh, I, um…didn’t mean anything by it.” I tried to look as innocent as possible when I added, “I just figured you might be worried how I’d react if bikers came into your shop.”
She pursed her lips. “If you want to work here, you’ll learn fast to treat the Redline Kings like VIPs.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.”
I forced a smile, thanked her for her time, and promised to follow up about the job later in the week. Then I stepped back into the hot Florida sun and swallowed hard. Apparently, just mentioning Kane Beckett’s club was enough to make people nervous.
Next, I went into the bakery just a block from the coffee shop.
With a whitewashed brick front, hanging flower baskets lining the awning, and a hand-painted sign over the door that read Sugar & Spice, it looked like something out of a romcom.
The sweet smell alone was enough to make me forget how awkward my last conversation had been.
The display case was stocked with cupcakes, fruit tarts, and perfectly glazed donuts. The place was busy but not chaotic, with a steady stream of customers weaving between tables and chatting softly in the bright, cozy space.
A girl about my age stood behind the counter, her hair in a low ponytail and flour dusted on her apron. She looked up and smiled as I approached. “What can I get you?”
I scanned the case, then pointed at a chocolate croissant. “That one looks dangerously good.”
She grinned. “It’s my favorite. Want it warmed up?”
“Yes, please.” I leaned against the counter. “I’m glad I decided to do some exploring today. A place like this makes me wish I had a better metabolism.”
She laughed and popped the pastry in the small oven behind her. “You’re not from Crossbend?”
“Nope. Wedgewood. Just a few towns over.”
“You picked a good time to stop in, then. We had some out-of-towners who wiped us out of just about everything early yesterday. Those guys could eat like you wouldn’t believe, which I guess makes sense with how many hours they spend behind the wheel in the blazing sun. That’s gotta burn a ton of calories.”
Bingo.
I tilted my head casually and did my best to sound like I knew what I was talking about. “Oh, do they race for Kane Beckett?”
The effect was instant. Her body tensed just slightly as she turned away to check the oven, and the two older women seated nearby went quiet mid-conversation. The man behind me shifted his weight, clearly listening now.
The girl turned back toward me and slid the croissant onto a plate, her smile dimmed. “I wouldn’t ask too many questions about that, if I were you.”
My brow furrowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Just heard about them from my brother, Devon, and got curious because it sounded so interesting.”
“Best to stay un-curious around here,” she replied, gentle but firm. “Maybe it works differently in Wedgewood, but people like their business kept private in Crossbend.”
I nodded, taking the plate. “Got it. Thanks.”
I carried my food to an empty table by the window, my appetite fading. Around me, conversations had picked back up, but quieter now. The relaxed, easy vibe from earlier had been replaced by something heavier. As though everyone was pretending not to look at me while watching me all the same.
One thing was painfully clear.
Kane Beckett wasn’t just any man in this town.
He owned Crossbend.
My appetite dried up the second everyone inside the bakery had gone quiet. I tossed the half-eaten croissant in the trash on my way out.
The sidewalk outside felt hotter than before, or maybe that was just the burn of adrenaline still prickling under my skin.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I wandered toward the small park near the end of the block, trying to gather my thoughts.
I didn’t expect people to welcome my questions, but I didn’t think they’d shut me out completely either.
I was halfway to the park when I felt the eerie prickle on the back of my neck that told me I was being watched.
I slowed instinctively, like my brother taught me. My eyes scanned the street, the cars, the storefronts.
That’s when I saw him.
A man stood near the edge of the parking lot, leaning casually against a matte black motorcycle.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, all muscle and menace.
The leather vest he was wearing marked him as one of the Redline Kings.
When he pushed off the bike and started walking toward me, I felt every hair on my arms rise.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t even speak until he was close enough that I could see the faint scar that split his right eyebrow.
“You Savannah Quincy?”
I blinked. “Who’s asking?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s not a smart question.”
“I figured if people are gonna stalk me around town, I should at least get a name.” My gaze dropped to his leather vest. “I guess I’ll just have to go with calling you Tail Gunner in my head instead.”
He didn’t rise to the bait, just took a step closer. “Word travels fast in Crossbend. So let me make this simple. You need to stop asking questions about Kane Beckett and the Redline Kings.”
I stiffened. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Pokin’ around in our business sure as fuck isn’t right.”
My stomach dropped, but I kept my chin high. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you.” His tone stayed calm, almost casual. “You’re new around here. Maybe you don’t understand how things work. Questions like yours get noticed. And not in a good way.”
He turned and walked off without another word, swinging a leg over the bike and firing up the engine with a growl that I felt in my bones.
I stood frozen on the sidewalk long after he was gone.
He hadn’t raised his voice or laid a hand on me.
But it was the clearest threat I’d ever received in my life.
I sat on a bench near the edge of the park, staring at the cracked pavement under my feet while the sound of that motorcycle faded into the distance.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew it would be safer to go back home to Wedgewood and never come back.
My hands were still shaking. My stomach was in knots.
It didn’t change anything, though.
Devon was in trouble. Whatever he’d gotten tangled up in had something to do with Kane Beckett.
My brother might be the one who joined the police academy and wore the badge, but I could out-stubborn him any day of the week. And I would do just about anything to protect the only real family I had left, even if it meant stepping into the lion’s den.