Chapter 3 #2
The way the driver's silhouette shifts. The way they seem to notice me approaching.
I'm about fifty feet away when the truck suddenly starts moving.
Pulls onto the road fast, tires kicking up gravel.
Drives away heading south. Toward Houston.
I memorize what I can—partial plate number, vehicle description, the aftermarket modifications. Then I pull out my phone and type it all into my notes.
Someone was watching Grace's clinic.
And they ran the second they realized I noticed them.
That's not random.
The question is: who? And why?
I head back to the clinic, my jaw tight.
Grace is with a client, so I find Kyle in the barn.
"You see that truck?" I ask him. "Dark blue Silverado, parked on the road?"
Kyle looks up from mucking a stall. "What truck?"
"Never mind." I pull out my phone, show him a photo I managed to snap. "You see this vehicle around here before?"
He squints at the screen. "Maybe? I don't really pay attention to traffic. Why?"
"Just curious." I pocket my phone. "Grace mention anyone following her? Anyone making her uncomfortable?"
Kyle's expression shifts. "Actually, yeah. Yesterday she said she thought someone was tailing her on a vet call. But she figured she was being paranoid."
My blood runs cold. "Where was the call?"
"Peterson ranch. About twenty miles east."
Twenty miles. Middle of nowhere. Perfect place to grab someone if you wanted to.
"She mention what the vehicle looked like?"
"Dark colored truck, I think. She didn't get a good look."
Fuck.
"Thanks." I head back toward the office, my mind racing.
Someone's watching Grace. Following her. And they're not being subtle about it.
I need answers. Fast.
I knock on Grace's office door and wait until she opens it.
Her client must have left.
"Shadow? What's—"
I pull her outside, lowering my voice. "The dark blue Silverado. You seen it before?"
She blinks. "I... maybe? Yesterday I thought someone was following me on a call, but—"
"Where?"
"Peterson ranch. But Shadow, I'm sure it was just—"
"It wasn't." I grip her shoulders, making sure she's looking at me. "Someone's watching you, Grace. Following you. And I need you to take this seriously."
Fear flashes across her face. "Who?"
"I don't know yet. But if you see that truck again—if you see anything suspicious—you call me immediately. Understand?"
"You're scaring me."
"Good." I pull her close, press a kiss to her forehead. "Be scared. Be careful. Don't go anywhere alone. And call me if anything feels off."
She nods against my chest. "Okay."
"I mean it, Grace, and for fuck’s sake, carry your piece on you."
"I know." She pulls back, looking up at me. "What are you going to do?"
"Find out who they are." I release her reluctantly. "And make sure they understand you're protected."
I leave her standing there and head back to my bike.
I need to talk to Rogue.
Get him to run that partial plate.
Figure out who the fuck is surveilling Grace.
Because if someone's targeting her, they're about to learn why the Shotgun Saints made me their enforcer.
Rogue's in the clubhouse office when I find him, surrounded by ledgers and laptop screens.
"Need a favor," I say, closing the door behind me.
He looks up, pushing his glasses up his nose. "What kind of favor?"
I show him the photo, the partial plate number. "Need you to run this. Fast."
"What's this about?"
"Someone's watching Grace's clinic. Following her on vet calls."
Rogue's expression sharpens. "Phantom know?"
"Not yet. And it stays that way until I know what we're dealing with."
He studies me for a long moment. "You sure about that? This could be club business."
"It's my business." My voice comes out harder than intended. "Grace is my business. So I handle it."
Rogue raises his hands. "All right, brother. I'll run it. Give me an hour."
"Thirty minutes."
"I'll do what I can."
I pace the hallway outside the office, my mind working through possibilities.
A rival club targeting Phantom through his daughter?
Somebody with a grudge against the Saints?
Random psycho who fixated on Grace?
None of it feels right.
My phone buzzes. Grace:
There's a note on my truck.
My blood goes cold.
Don't touch it. Stay inside. I'm coming.
I'm on my bike and heading back to the clinic before Rogue can call me back.
Grace is standing inside the clinic office when I arrive, staring out the window at her truck.
I can see the piece of paper tucked under her windshield wiper from here.
"Show me," I say, and she follows me outside.
I approach carefully, using the corner of my cut to lift the paper without touching it directly. Unfold it.
The message is printed. Block letters. Simple.
PAID FOR BUT NEVER DELIVERED. TIME TO COLLECT.
Grace makes a small sound behind me, and I turn to see her face has gone white.
"What does that mean?" she whispers.
But I know exactly what it means.
Someone knows about the deal.
About the four million dollars Bronco's family paid for her.
About the arrangement that died when Bronco did.
Someone thinks Grace still owes them.
"Get in your truck," I say, my voice calm despite the rage building inside me. "Follow me to your cabin. We're not staying here."
"Shadow, what—"
"Now, Grace."
She must hear something in my voice because she doesn't argue. Just gets in her truck and waits while I start my bike.
My phone rings as I'm about to pull out. Rogue.
"Tell me," I say.
"Your plate traces back to Copperhead Kings MC. Houston chapter."
Everything clicks into place.
Bronco's family’s club.
"You want me to tell Phantom?" Rogue asks.
"No." My grip tightens on the handlebars. "I handle this."
"Shadow—"
"I said I handle it." I end the call and look back at Grace in her truck.
She has no idea what's coming.
But I do.
And I'm going to end it before it starts.
Grace's cabin is quiet when we arrive.
Charlie greets us at the door, tail wagging despite the cone still on her head.
I do a sweep of the cabin.
Check the windows, the doors, the sightlines.
Everything's secure. For now.
Grace is standing in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around herself.
"Shadow, please. What's going on?"
I turn to face her. "The truck. The note. It's Copperhead Kings. Houston MC."
She shakes her head. "I don't understand. Who—"
"They’re Bronco’s family's club."
The color drains from her face.
She sinks onto the couch, and Charlie immediately limps over to rest her head on Grace's knee.
"Why?" Grace's voice is small. "It's been years. Why now?"
I crouch in front of her, taking her hands in mine. "The deal your father made. The four million dollars. I think... I think they believe you still owe them."
"But Bronco's dead. The arrangement—"
"Died with him. I know." I squeeze her hands. "But they might not see it that way."
She's shaking now. "What if they know? About what really happened?"
"They don't." I keep my voice firm. "The truth stayed within the club, and none of us are talking."
"Then what do they want?"
I meet her eyes, let her see the truth. "I think they want you. They think you belong to them because of the money that changed hands."
"That's insane."
"Yeah. It is." I stand, pull her up with me. "But that doesn't make them less dangerous."
She looks up at me, fear and trust warring in those blue eyes. "What are we going to do?"
"We?" I cup her face. "You're not doing anything. You're staying here, staying safe. I'm going to find out exactly what they want and make sure they understand you're not available."
"Shadow—"
"Grace." I cut her off. "I'm the enforcer. This is what I do. I eliminate threats. And anyone who comes for you is a threat."
"My father made that deal. What if he—"
"I don't give a fuck what deal he made." My voice is hard. "You're mine now. And I protect what's mine."
She stares at me for a long moment, then nods. "Okay."
"I'm staying here tonight. Every night until this is handled."
"Okay," she says again, quieter this time.
I pull her into my arms, and she melts against me.
Charlie whines at our feet, and I reach down to pat her head.
"We're going to be okay," I murmur into Grace's hair. "I promise."
But even as I hold her, my mind is already working.
Copperhead Kings. Bronco's family. Coming for what they think they're owed.
They think she's property. Think she belongs to them because of some deal.
They're wrong.
Grace chose me. She's mine. And I'll burn Houston to the ground before I let them take her.
Let them come.
The Copperhead Kings just made the biggest mistake of their lives.
They threatened what's mine.
Now I'm going to teach them why that's a death sentence.