Chapter 12 #2
Blue’s gaze on Sebastian hardened at Yeats, mentioning Sebastian’s name. “Dan, the man,” he said, shaking a finger at him. “You’re that ‘training wheels’ guy working with Cat teaching folks how to ride motorcycles.”
Grover elbowed Blue in the ribs and nodded toward Sebastian. “Better watch your step, though,” he said darkly. “Cat’s old man doesn’t take kindly to anyone chasing after his kitty cat.”
Sebastian squared his shoulders, preparing to say something, when Yeats muttered, “Silas is back? I thought he was in for a time.” A hint of disbelief lay under his breath.
Blue stiffened and stepped back, his eyes flicking to the front entrance. “You want me to take you to him?” he offered.
“He’s here?” Yeats asked, sounding non-committal.
Sebastian clenched his jaw. What information was Blue offering, and at what cost?
As if on cue, a figure appeared from the shadows at the far end of the bar.
A ruddy-faced man with broad shoulders, short dark hair, and a face with the lines of life lived hardened and weathered lumbered into view.
He moved with a slow, steady purpose, stopping a few feet away when they were all within clear view.
“Stop bothering my patrons, Blue,” he rumbled, demanding respect. The bandana-wearing man visibly shrunk under the man’s gaze. A nervous cough escaped his lips as the clinking of glasses and the low hum of music seemed to fade into the background.
“Silas won’t like this. These people don’t belong here,” Grover said, giving his cut one last yank for emphasis.
Butch, as Sebastian recognized the man who came to the range that first time with the woman with green hair, tilted his head toward Blue. He fixed the bandana-wearing biker with a hard look. “And what kind is that?”
Before Blue could reply, Yeats cut in, his voice booming with a forced joviality.
“Any friend of mine is welcome here. We’re good.
” The declaration effectively shut down any further hostility, but a heavy silence descended upon the group.
All eyes turned toward them, and Sebastian cupped the back of his neck.
He never went anywhere without his gun tucked out of sight and a knife out of habit.
Sweat gathered between his shoulder blades.
Yeats rapped on the bar and ordered them both drinks to break the unnerving silence. A man at a nearby table lifted his chin toward Sebastian. “You’re the one who made Blue wear a helmet.” The man smirked. “We could use someone like you.”
Sebastian tilted his head toward Yeats, searching for a cue to respond. Yeats met his gaze with a neutral expression. “He’s with me.”
A man behind the bar slid glasses with ice and two cans of soda in their direction.
Grover’s fist slammed against the bar, calling for a drink, but the sound echoed in Sebastian’s ears like a gunshot. His heart hammered against his ribs as Butch leaned forward, looming like a threat. The casual banter around them replaced by a suffocating stillness.
“Don’t you two got somewhere you need to exist?” Butch asked.
Relief washed over Sebastian as Blue and Grover grumbled their way toward the pool tables. Butch’s gaze, sharp and assessing, landed on Sebastian. “Where do I know you from?”
“The motorcycle range.” Sebastian popped the tab on the soda and inhaled the carbonated drink to ease the coil in his stomach.
One wrong word, one misstep, and everything he’d been doing these past several weeks to protect his family and stay alive, would force him to leave again and find another way to protect them.
He wanted a life away from his old life, a new life, and leaving Caitlyn and Owen bothered him.
Why did he ever think he could come this close to home, and no one ever recognize him?
Yeats leaned closer to Butch, his words meant only for the Ghost Rider President.
“Is Casper around? I needed to talk with him.”
Sebastian used the opportunity to scan the room, looking for an escape route if needed. On the counter, the glass with ice condensed on the surface of the bar. Sebastian returned his gaze to Butch, waiting for the inevitable moment the man shattered his facade.
“What is it you need to say to Casper?” Butch raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering from Sebastian to Yeats, before sweeping across the room to take in the position of Blue and Grover at the pool table.
“Silas is back,” Yeats said loud enough for Butch to hear over the hum of conversation and clatter of glasses further down the bar.
“You don’t think Casper knows that already?”
“Maybe.” Yeats furrowed his brows, the lines on his forehead deepening. “The real question is why and how he’s back.”
A humorless scoff escaped Butch’s lips. “And you think Casper can give you the answers?” He didn’t bother to hide the amusement curling the corners of his mouth. “Casper’s my right-hand man, though not necessarily by choice.”
Butch turned away from them to take a drink order from a woman clad in combat boots and tight leather shorts who sauntered up to the bar. Yeats seized the moment to lean toward the kitchen and call out to the waitress for two orders of wings to go.
Butch meticulously placed the drinks on the tray. The woman came around to deliver them to the patrons. Yeats took a long swig of his drink, then argued, “I can’t just stand by when one of my rider coaches is affected.”
“We take care of our own.” Butch gazed beyond Yeats to the door. A chill snaked down Sebastian’s spine as the door creaked open, admitting a man with a buzz cut and thick black tattoos that snaked up his arms like predatory vines.
Yeats turned, leaning his elbows back on the bar. Blue and Grover shouted greetings, while others went back to their meals and games of pool, but a few eyes lingered on them. Yeats lifted his chin. “Casper.”
“What’s up?” Casper’s eyes held a glint of steel as he approached. Butch moved on, but not before exchanging a brief look with Casper.
“I thought I agreed to send some men to help with parking for bike week,” Casper said.
“It’s not that. I figured I’d check on the family,” Yeats said, turning as Casper joined them at the bar.
“If Cat needs something, she’ll call.” In other words, the guy avoided going there. Sebastian took another sip of his drink to calm his irritation.
“This the new guy?” Casper eyed Sebastian, sweeping his gaze over him. Normally, Sebastian would offer to extend his hand to the biker, but under these circumstances, that would make him look like a fool, so he just nodded and replied, “Dan.”
“Dan?” Casper asked, his eyes narrowing as he scratched the side of his nose. His gaze flickered between Yeats and Sebastian with a hint of skepticism. “That’s it? Just Dan?”
“Daniel has been helping me on the range and at the landscaping business. He’s new in town. I’m introducing him to the area.” Yeats said, gesturing to Sebastian before nodding toward Butch behind the bar.
Butch was in conversation with another customer, but occasionally, the Ghost Rider President glanced in their direction. Sebastian itched to get out of there. The few couples and the party of five who occupied tables around them did little to ease the tightness cramping his back muscles.
“We came for the wings,” Sebastian said, not wanting to draw any more attention by staying too long. “I heard they’re the best.”
Casper nodded approvingly at Butch before turning back to them. “Anything Zelda makes is the best.”
Sebastian turned away from Casper and Yeats, feeling the attention of several people upon him as Blue and Grover observed from a pool table in the opposite corner of the bar.
A green-haired woman approached and eyed them suspiciously when she saw the bag of containers beside them.
Yeats tapped him on the shoulder, and Sebastian followed him toward the door.
Once outside, the tension in his muscles relaxed slightly.
A sensation ran across his hip, and Sebastian pulled out his other phone.
It vibrated in his pocket to alert him to the same strange number calling it again.
“You, okay?”
“I suppose it’s time I check in with the missus.”
Caitlyn gazed across the driveway, lingering on the gleaming motorcycles lined up in front of the garage. Each chrome curve and powerful engine made her nauseous.
“Silas,” she muttered under her breath. A wave of paranoia, cold and relentless, washed over her, making even the most basic tasks seem daunting.
Over the past week, her world shrank to the suffocating confines of Silas in her space.
Silas, with his manipulative charm and veiled threats, weaseled his way back into controlling Pops once more.
What threats had he used on her father to get Pops to open the restoration shop against Caitlyn’s objection?
Where would she paint and work on motorcycles and have her space?
It infuriated her how Pops allowed Silas to take over his life again.
And what choice did she have? It wasn’t like Silas would obey any kinds of legal action she took to keep him away.
Even the motorcycles seemed to mock her with their freedom. Once they lined up for restoration and custom services. The ones parked now made her want to heave. She knew those motorcycles and having them on her property tainted everything she tried to avoid all these years with Silas gone.
Whether or not Pops gave his permission, Silas moved into their old apartment above the garage.
Though Caitlyn refused to let him closer than that, his looming presence came as a reminder of the constant danger they were in until Silas got what he wanted.
But would he stop there? What if, once he found Sam’s brother, he didn’t move on?
What if he stayed? Her heart raced, and she jumped at the sound of the Jeep door echoing in the driveway.