And I’m not the only one who feels the shift in the air.
Micah mutters under his breath, “Well, that sure doesn’t sound like tourists.”
The easy laughter dies, replaced by the heavy silence of shared instinct.
And all I can think—heart pounding, throat tight—isplease, not here.Not now.
Because this day was perfect.
And I don’t want the past to find me again.
But when has that ever stopped fate from throwing a wrench into the engine that runs my life?
The sound of the bikes cuts off outside, but the quiet they leave behind is worse.It’s a heavy, crawling kind of silence that prickles at the back of my neck.
I keep telling myself it’s nothing.Maybe just a group passing through.Maybe they’re here for the beer tent like everyone else.But deep down, I know better.
The first biker pushes through the flaps of the tent like he owns the place.
He’s sweating, his leather cut dark with dust and heat, his hair plastered to his temples.His face is mottled red, eyes too bright, pupils blown wide—and that grin.God, that grin.It’s the kind that doesn’t belong to someone just looking for a drink.
“Well now,” he drawls, his voice carrying easily over the chatter that’s started to fade, “looks like we’re late to the party!No worries, folks, we’ll catch up real quick!”
A few people laugh uncertainly, but the rest go still, like prey that just caught the scent of a predator.
I can’t move.My fingers are digging into the edge of the table, knuckles white.
That grin widens when his gaze lands on me.Recognition flashes in those too-bright eyes, and I swear the air leaves my lungs all at once.
“Oh no,” I whisper.
It’s him.
The same Hellbound Heathen who started the bar fight the night I went out with Kristie—seems so long ago.
He’s the guy who wouldn’t takenofor an answer.Roach.That’s what his patch says, and I can’t think of a more apt description.
My heart starts pounding so loud I can barely hear the scrape of chairs, the shuffle of boots.
Micah’s already moving—slow, careful, standing up between me and the man.Benji’s setting his beer down, eyes narrowing.
“Easy now,” Roach says, spreading his arms like he’s making peace, but there’s nothing peaceful in the way he’s watching me.
“Ain’t here for trouble.Just came to say hello to an old friend.”
My stomach twists.
“I’m not your friend,” I reply—angry at him for intruding on my life, on this perfect day.
Every muscle in my body is screamingrun, but I can’t—not with Sawyer somewhere in this crowd and the rest of these people completely unaware of what’s about to happen.
Because I know this man.
And he doesn’t do “hellos.”
He does grabby hands and nasty words.He does violence and violations.
“Come on over here, and sit with me, girl.We got unfinished business,” Roach says, and the way he looks at me makes my skin crawl.
