Chapter 3
Three
Around noon, I walk into Pete’s. Rebel’s in school and Teagan is working, so I decided to pay her a visit. Her dark hair is up in a bun on top of her head, and when she comes up behind the bar, her eyes go wide.
“Hey, I didn’t expect you.” A broad smile appears on her face.
“Got bored.” I grin and slide onto a bar stool. “It’s quiet.” There’s just one couple sitting between the dozen empty ones; I motion in their general direction.
“It’ll fill up soon. It’s not even noon yet.” She winks. “What’d you want to drink?”
“Mountain Dew, please.” I put my elbow on the bar, and rest my chin in my hand. “It never changes in here,” I observe with a sigh, looking at the mustard-yellow walls and dark wood paneling that’s been there since I was a kid.
Teagan comes back up with a can of Mountain Dew in her hand, and grabs a glass from the shelf behind her.
“True. I think there’s something soothing about the familiarity.
The comfort and predictability of it creates a strange sense of calm, don’t you think?
” She opens the can, pours the yellow liquid into the glass and slides it over.
“Folsom’s always predictable. The people, the surroundings, the customs. It’s one less thing you have to worry about. ”
My fingers clamp around the glass. “That’s true, but at the same time, I can’t get rid of the labels they’ve given me over the years.” I grimace.
Teagan bursts out laughing. “True. You are and always will be the daughter of Elias Turner, the infamous former vice president of the Renegades Motorcycle Club. That makes you unaccountable and unpredictable, Layne. It makes you the odd one out.”
“Simultaneously, I’ll always remain the girlfriend of Kyler Young as well, the son of the Renegades’ infamous president.” I heave a deep sigh and take a sip. “It doesn’t matter that we haven’t been together for ages, or that I haven’t spoken to him in forever.”
Teagan wipes down the surface of the bar. “That’s the least of your worries, sweetie.” She winks.
“Oh, I’ve already heard the one about making my husband disappear.” I roll my eyes. “First, I wouldn’t know why I would’ve done that. Second, I don’t even know how I would’ve done it if I had wanted to.”
“But Layne, you could’ve just called your old boyfriend Kyler, right? He’ll bury him somewhere for you. Surely everyone knows that.” She laughs again.
“Yeah, you laugh. It’s funny as long as it’s not about you.” With a sour face, I take another sip of my drink. “Even the police don’t believe me.”
Shaking her head, Teagan sits down on her stool on the other side of the bar.
“Of course not, Laynie. I just told you, you’ll always be the daughter of, and you added the rest yourself.
Why would the police believe the daughter of a — in their eyes — criminal when they’ve got zero evidence?
” My best friend raises a brow. “Besides, if the people in town are right and you still have ties to the MC, there’s a real possibility that you did it yourself. According to them.”
“Shit, you’re not making it better.”
Behind me, the door chimes. I look back briefly as a man in motorcycle clothing steps in. He’s wearing sunglasses and a bandana. A shiver goes through me and discomfort settles in my stomach.
“He ain’t a Renegade,” Teagan whispers.
“Is he wearing a cut? Because otherwise he could also be just a normal biker,” I whisper back. I’m too scared to look at him again. Far too obvious.
“Nope.”
Teagan steps around the bar and I whisper, “What are you doing?”
“Taking his order. I work here, remember?”
Wide-eyed, I watch Teagan walk over to the table at which the man has just taken place.
Of course, nothing is going to happen. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
It’s not like he’s just going to pull out a gun all of a sudden and start waving it around just because he’s wearing biker clothes and looks imposing.
Still, there’s something about the man that raises the hair on the back of my neck.
It doesn’t take long for Teagan to return.
“What did he want?” I whisper to her.
She shrugs. “Pancakes with maple syrup and a glass of orange juice.”
Both my eyebrows go up. “Seriously? Pancakes?”
My best friend passes the order to the kitchen, without so much as a comment, and pours the drink herself, then brings it to the guy. When she returns, we’ve got another half hour of small talk before it’s time to pick Rebel up from school.
As soon as school’s out, Rebel asks if she can bring her new friend over to come play, forcing me to have a polite conversation with Miss Too-good-for-you prom queen from my high school, who was snubbing me then and still does now.
I plaster on my best fake smile and discuss the details of the play date with her.
Finally, I give her my address so she can drop off her daughter.
“I’d expected to have to go to that motorcycle clubhouse,” she remarks.
I tilt my head. “Why’d you assume that?”
“I heard you’re back with your high school sweetheart. You know, that criminal from that gang.” She sticks her nose up in the air and throws her long blond hair over her shoulder.
I snort and chuckle simultaneously. I can’t help it, but this really is the most lousy attempt to find out if the gossip is true.
“You could’ve just asked me if it’s true if I’m in a relationship with Kyler.
Which it isn’t, by the way, but I find it admirable that you’d want your daughter to go to the home of ‘that criminal from that gang’ to find out if what they say is true.
” I shove my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and smile sweetly. “I’ll see you around five?”
Her mouth drops open a little before she nods quickly. “Have fun, honey,” she barely utters to her daughter.
Shaking my head, I turn around and take the girls home, where I barely see them because they’re playing up in Rebel’s bedroom. Meanwhile, I quietly prepare dinner.
That evening, when Rebel’s bedtime ritual is done and I’ve got the evening to myself, I fill my glass with water.
I sit down, set my glass down on the coffee table, and grab my book. Just as I find the right page, the bell rings. With a frown, I lay my novel face down on the armrest.
Who could that be?
An uneasy feeling settles in my gut. I’m not expecting anyone. It can’t be Teagan, because she’s home. She just sent me a message showing that.
With my slippers on, I walk to the door and I pull it ajar, with the chain still on it won’t open far.
A shiver runs through me as my gaze drops to my visitor.
A black tank top strains around a powerful chest, a leather cut over it.
Tattoos of black roses peek out from under the fabric and extend to his upper arm.
His dark-blond hair is neatly combed back and his straight jawline is somewhat hidden by his short beard. Fuck.
With a bang, I close the door, to slide off the chain like crazy. Then I open the door again and grab the vest to pull him into my house. I peered through the crack to see if any neighbors had noticed. This time I close the door with a little more control and hope I didn’t wake Rebel.
Then I turn and with arms crossed I turn my most deadly stare to Kyler. “What are you doing here?” I bark at him.
“Hello to you, too, Layne.” A wide grin appears on his face and his eyes slide over me from head to toe, like I’m being objectified. Ugh. “I was wondering if we could talk.”
“Talk?” I spit, but it takes effort to keep my tone venomous. The jerk looks even better than the last time I saw him. Which is about ten years ago. “Why would I want to talk to you?”
Without answering my question, he walks deeper into my house as if he is quite familiar with it. His gaze slides from left to right and from bottom to top in the living room. “Nice home, honey,” he says approvingly.
“I’m not your honey.” With quick steps, I make sure I catch up to him and give him a furious look. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
With a deep sigh, he drops onto my new gray couch and picks up my book. “Still reading that romance shit.” His gaze glides over the pages, flipping through them with his thumb.
Gritting my teeth, I tilt my hip, tapping my fingers on my elbow. “Kyler, get to it and leave.”
“Well, this lady is definitely getting to it. A climax.” He raises an eyebrow. “Laynie, why didn’t you call me if you needed something?” A dirty grin appears on his face.
“Bloody hell, Kyler,” I say with a deep sigh.
A chuckle sounds. “Bloody hell? You switched nationalities?”
I throw my hands up and stomp across the kitchen to the doorway to the hall, where I point at the front door. “I’ve got a seven-year-old daughter and am trying to watch my language. Get out.”
His face falls. “Connor.” He puts the book back in place and then looks at me with an intense gaze.
He instantly gets my attention. Connor’s name to me is like a bone to a dog. “What does my husband have to do with it?” If that jerk uses his name to stay, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands.
“Maybe you gotta drink for me?” Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he looks up at me.
“Damn Ky, answer the question.” I ball my hands into fists and press my nails into the palms to prevent myself from twisting his neck.
He blinks. “Now, if you give me a drink, I can tell you the whole story. I was hoping his name would pique your interest in what I have to say.”
I let out an exasperated groan, turn around and march to the refrigerator. This man is truly unbelievable. A decoy with a name to bribe me for a Coke.
But what if he knows more about Connor, Layne?
The little voice in my head whispers. At the same time I can’t help but think that he’ll give me some stupid story about where Connor is, since he’s supposedly disappeared and that I can’t vouch for myself.
Furiously I pour a full glass, gouging my countertop, but I don’t care.
Stomping, I turn back and slam the glass down, which causes more of his drink to spill over the rim.
“Your Coke, sir. Now tell me what’s up with Connor.”
“Was.” He quietly takes a sip.
I close my eyes. “Kyler, I’m about to kill you single-handedly if you don’t tell me what’s going on like right the fuck now.”
“You won’t, sweetheart, but I’ll tell you. Did you see who they were?” From under his long, dark lashes, he looks up at me.
Shaking my head, I put my weight on my other leg. I take a deep breath and briefly close my eyes. When I open them again, I say: “They banged on the door.” I grabbed Rebel and hid in the closet.
“So you only heard it?”
For fuck’s sake, do we have to discuss this? I swallow the lump in my throat with difficulty. I’d rather erase the whole day from my memory. Sometimes I think it might’ve been better if I had been at the supermarket.
I exhale deeply and ask, “Where you’re going with this, Kyler?” I walk closer to the couch.
With his left hand, he rubs his face. “Did you just hear?”
I don’t know why he repeats his question, but this time I nod. “Yes, I didn’t see a thing.”
“Good.” He takes a sip and stares at the wall above my television.
Cautiously, I sit down next to him. “It would be nice if you shared your thoughts with me.”
“I don’t know if that would be wise.” His gaze passes over me inquisitively.
For a few moments, there’s only silence. All he does is tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and my breathing stops. I flinch backward a little. This is so typical of Kyler. Constantly sharing half-truths, incomplete stories, and sometimes nothing at all.
“Why? It’s about my husband.”
“Your dead husband and the info could make you a target.” He shrugs.
The word "dead" gives me chills. What else does Kyler know? The police say Connor’s missing, since they can’t find anything.
Those bastards carefully erased every trace.
There wasn’t even a drop of blood to be found.
It was exactly what I’d feared when I’d found a perfectly neat room after emerging from that closet.
“Target? For who? Like I’m a threat to anyone.” I huff and pull my arms closer to my body.
“We found a connection to another motorcycle club.” Immediately, he clenches his jaws together, his lips forming a thin line. The little muscle in his jaw twitches. As fast as he can, he gets up and strides toward the door.
“Kyler, wait. What are you talking about? What club?” I don’t understand and want to know more. Know everything. He can’t leave me like this. What if we do become a target?
“You’re better off not knowing, Lay,” he says, his hand tightening on the doorknob. Without thinking, I place my hand over his.
I ignore the tingling as I ask, “What’s going on? Ky, you can’t just drop this on me, stop giving me more info, and then vanish. This is exactly why I hate you.”
I whisper the last sentence. It’s a lie. Everyone knows that. I don’t hate him, but the half-truths make me feel unimportant. It’s the reason I never felt completely safe with him, and I ended up choosing the safest option. I chose Connor.
How ironic.
“It’s for your own safety, and for Rebel’s. If they think you know who killed Connor, you won’t be safe anymore, Layne.” Without waiting for my reply, he presses a kiss to my forehead, gives me a little push, and opens the door. “You look good, by the way.”
Then he disappears into the dark and a few moments later I hear the familiar roar of a motorcycle engine. He leaves me shocked and wistful.