You don’t grow up in South Dakota without being aware of motorcycle clubs from a young age, we’re a mecca for them afterall. The Kings of Anarchy are notorious and if I’m remembering it correctly have a base east of here, besides being a nationwide organization.
“Everly,” Adam says my name, pulling my attention away from the broody looking biker.
Standing in front of me, I have to work at keeping my mouth closed. I don’t know what’s going with him, but he’s aged a decade or two since the last time I’ve seen him.
“How are you doing?” I ask, reaching out to squeeze his hand.
“Making do,” he replies with a tight smile before mumbling, “Most days, anyway.”
“Is there anything…” I start to offer my assistance into this mysterious response, but he clicks his tongue, looking worriedly around us as he halts my question.
“I bet they don’t have any decent onion rings in—gosh, I don’t even remember where you’re living nowadays,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I’m desperate for your onion rings,” I tell him, willing to let him off the hook. “Can I get a BLT and whatever my dad’s new regular order is?”
Dad is notorious for going on ‘kicks’ where he’ll order one thing regularly until he burns out and shops around for his new favorite menu item. But that isn’t important right now, getting to the bottom of what’s happening in here is.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I don’t even look at the man who approached me the moment Adam stepped away, I know for a fact it isn’t the biker and a quick look in the mirror lining the back of the bar tells me it’s one of the strangers who seem to be with the men that I am now convinced were threatening Adam.
“Nope.”
“I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new in town?”
“Nope.”
“Passing through?” he asks, leaning in closer to me.
“Nope.” Putting my feet on the foot rail, I shift myself down a seat.
And doesn’t the asshole just sit in the stool I vacate? I move down one more.
“Can you say anything other thannope?” he asks, following me down the bar.
This time, I simply get up and move to stand where the man originally was, hoping that Adam will come back out so I’ll have someone familiar to talk to. Unfortunately, just as the man starts to move back toward me, someone starts to laugh and then another, and another.
His face goes beet red as he swivels in his stool so fast it tilts to the side and even though he catches himself before falling, his associates start laughing too.
I chance a glance at the biker out of the corner of my eye and see that he isn’t laughing, that his entire body has tensed up. He’s right, because this isn’tfunny. It’s suddenly very obvious that this isn’t a guy who’ll accept being the butt of any joke.
“Told you she was out of your league,” someone calls from the opposite side of the room.
And while most of the laughter has stopped and the customers’ eyes are now glued to their tables again, he knows damn well that they’re taking notes, and this will spread. I have no idea who he is, or thinks he is, but now that we’re both standing, I can also see that I have an inch or two on him.
The moment that he squares his shoulders and takes a step in my direction, the biker stands up fast enough to spill the beer in front of him and draw everyone’s attention. Without a word, he walks toward me, his eyes nearly hypnotizing me with their intensity as he ignores the others in the room.
“Hey, I was wondering if there was a place you’d recommend for breakfast?” his voice is low as he stops a couple of feet away from me and since Adam still hasn’t reemerged from the kitchen, I’m selfishly relieved to have someone throw me a lifeline
“Well, don’t let the name put you off, but Grease and Griddle is in the center of town and besides being your only option, it’s really good. Both of these places are open for lunch,” I add the last bit of information on for lack of anything else to say.
“Yeah, I’ve been there,” he replies. “But last time I was there with Joanie, she mentioned another place might be opening.”
I try to keep a poker face when he mentions Joanie, even as I reassess him. He obviously dropped her name as a message that they’re friends, and if he’s friends with Sheriff Mills’ longtime assistant, I have to conclude that he’s also trying to figure out what the hell’s going on around here.
“We were talking,” the other man says, taking another step closer to me.
Drawing myself up to my full height, I’m nearly shoulder to shoulder with the biker, and we turn in concert, angling our heads to look down at him in unison.
