I force in oxygen and let Skyler lead me out of the parking lot.
I’m walking on autopilot, but my mind is running away from me. Rob Carson is out of prison, and he just did a drug deal with one of the guys who set my sign on fire. Who tried to run me over.
If I hadn’t been sure he was behind everything before, I sure as hell am now. But that’s not the only thing bothering me, because both the kid and Carson were wearing Viper MC jackets and Max swore to me that Carson had nothing to do with the Vipers anymore.
I barely touch the pizza,but Skyler keeps me distracted for the rest of the afternoon.
I want to call Roman and tell him about seeing Rob, but I’m honestly not convinced he wouldn’t go hunt him down and do something stupid to protect me. That man is the calmest, most stable person I know, right up until someone hurts me or I put myself in danger.
He’s busy anyway, hosting a farewell barbecue and beer night for some of the pickers who are leaving next week. I don’t want to bother him, so I lock up the shop and head to bed early.
I don’t sleep though. The pickup truck kid buying drugs off Carson plays over and over in my mind. I don’t need any more convincing to know Carson was behind the fire. That he’s the one sending those messages. I just don’t understand why. He didn’t go to prison for assaulting me. He went down for possession.
That first message plays over and over in my mind.
I know what you did. You should have stayed away.
Max was there the day I got that message. The day he told me Carson was no longer associated with the Vipers. I didn’t think there was any way Carson could know what I did before I left town but if Max lied about Carson no longer being a Viper, what else has he lied about?
By the time the morning light filters through the flimsy curtains, I’ve spiraled to the extent of paranoia, and I have only one destination in mind.
I chuck on some clothes and make the long walk to the MC compound just outside of town. The hairs on the back of my neck prick, like I’m being watched. I look around but there’s no one there.
Rob wasn’t the only MC kid that went to my school, and I was friends with Max right up until the end. Until he told me we shouldn’t ever talk again. But he broke that rule first, so I ignore the feeling that I’m being followed and walk faster.
It’s not till the barbed wire fence surrounding the compound comes into view that my steps slow.
I shouldn’t be doing this, I know I shouldn’t. It’s the sort of stupid, reckless thing the old me would do. You don’t return to the scene of the crime. And yet I keep walking. I have to. I need to know what I’m dealing with.
The guy leaning against the gate, smoking, stands up when he sees me approach and my heart races. Despite the heat, he’s dressed in torn jeans and a black T-shirt under his cut. He eyes me behind the haze of smoke as I approach.
“I need to talk to Max,” I say, trying to hide the shake in my voice.
“Who?” the guy grunts.
Oh, yeah. “Wolf?”
Another grunt. “He’s busy.”
I grind the toe of my Converse in the dirt. “Can you just tell him Lola is here?”
The biker takes out his phone and types a message with one hand, then takes another drag. He stares at me while we wait.
“You his woman?”
“No.”
Max and I hooked up a few times, but nothing ever got serious. Thankfully, I’m saved from the biker’s never-ending stare as Max comes out from the clubhouse. He jerks his head at the prospect and the guy heads inside.
“What are you doing here, Lola?”
I stare at the man in front of me, with his corded arms and dangerous eyes. I remember sitting on the swings when we were in first grade and Max telling me he was scared of heights. That sweet little kid didn’t stick around for long.
In high school, he set up an unofficial fight night down on the beach. The name Wolf really does fit. Even back then everyone knew not to mess with him and the dark glower he’s hitting me with should send me scampering, but I have questions.
“I saw Carson today,” I tell him.
Max cuts me a look.
