I hesitate.Then nod.“Okay.”What else is there for me to say?I don’t want to be rude.
He leads the way toward the door, clearing a path through the curious stares.When we step outside, the cool Alabama night air washes over me.I inhale deeply.My lungs finally remember how to work.Motorcycles line the gravel lot, chrome gleaming under the yellow streetlight.
The biker stops near the curb and turns toward me.“You parked nearby?”
“Yeah,” I say, pointing toward my little white sedan.
He walks with me to it.Not too close.Not touching.Just there.When we reach the car, I turn to face him.
“Thank you.”The words feel inadequate.But they’re all I have.
He shrugs slightly.“No thanks needed.”
“Yes there is.”I hesitate.“Most people didn’t even notice.”
His eyes flick toward the bar door.“They noticed.”
“Then why didn’t they help?”The question tumbles from my lips before I can stop and think.
He studies me for a moment.“Because sometimes people wait for someone else to step in.”
The truth of that stings a little.I unlock my car but don’t get in yet.“What’s your name?”
He pauses.Then says, “Tucker.”
Before I can respond, the bar door swings open and a voice calls out.“Mellow!You coming back in or what?”Tucker sighs.Then looks back at me.“Get home safe.”
“Mellow?”I ask before I can stop myself.
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly.“Nickname.Road name to be specific.”
“It doesn’t seem very accurate.”
He chuckles.Low and rough.“No.It’s not.That’s why it fits.”
For a second neither of us moves.Then he steps back.“Drive safe, Lucy.”
I blink.“How do you?—”
“The bartender said your name earlier.”He cuts me off replying.
“Oh.”I can’t think of anything else to say without feeling stupid.I climb into my car and shut the door.
When I look up again, Tucker—Mellow—is already walking back toward the bar.The streetlight catches the patch on the back of his vest as he pushes through the door.
Kings of Anarchy MC.Exactly what I expected.
I’ve heard of them.People talk in a small town like Freedom Falls.When I first got into town and tried to settle in I was told they are more reliable than the local cops.If tonight is anything to go by that statement is fact.I start the engine and pull out of the lot.But halfway down the road, I realize something strange.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel afraid of all the shadows.I’m still worried about Clint finding me, but not the same way I was just moments ago inside the bar.Mostly, though, I find I can’t stop thinking about the man everyone calls Mellow.
TWO
MELLOW
I’m still pissed about the table.Not because it broke.But because I didn’t break the bastard’s jaw with it.
“Jesus Christ,” Stunt mutters as he steps over splintered wood and an upside-down chair.“You couldn’t just drag him outside like a domesticated animal?”
