“You know he doesn’t stop digging until he finds something,” she says, her tone hardening, but there’s concern behind it. “Justbe careful, Ryder. You know how he works. He won’t stop until he gets to you.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I know. I’ve dealt with worse.”
There’s a long pause, just the sound of her breathing on the other end. Then she speaks again, softer now.
“Just keep your head on straight, okay? I don’t need to remind you what he’s capable of.”
I don’t need to be reminded. I know exactly what Cole can do when he’s backed into a corner. But I’m not about to let him take control. Not this time.
“Just keep me posted, Rhea,” I say calmly, no sign of the tension clawing at me. “I’ll handle it from here.”
She sighs, but I can hear the respect in her voice as she responds. “Got it. I’ll keep an eye on him. See you whenever I can make it to town.”
I end the call and slide the phone back into my pocket. The quiet in the bar feels different now. I stand there, taking it all in. The distant creak of the floorboards, the smell of spilled beer still hanging in the air.
I won’t let Cole destroy this. Not the club. Not the Hollow. And not me.
I stand still, letting everything settle. Coyote Glen doesn’t scream trouble, but the truth is, trouble can sneak up anywhere. I’ve lived long enough to know that.
The quiet is almost suffocating. It feels wrong, about to break, and I don’t enjoy the feeling of it. I run a hand over my jaw and walk over to the shelves behind the bar. I’ve got work to do.
First, I start restocking. Bottles of bourbon, tequila, and gin—what the bar needs. I set the bottles in place, feeling the familiar weight in my palms. This is what I can control. This is mine. Thecold glass, the burn of alcohol against my skin. Each bottle is a step closer to locking out the past.
The fridge hums in the background, but it’s the sound of my own movements that keeps the unease at bay. The thump of boots against the floor as I make my way around, trying to adjust to this new space.
The door creaks open, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance up to see Finn striding in with that grin of his. He’s just run into the sun and caught it in his hands.
“Yo, boss,” he calls out, loud enough that it fills the room. “Place looks like a ghost town in here.”
I grab a bottle of whiskey and twist the cap off, then start filling a glass, letting the silence hang. I don’t have time for small talk. Not when there’s a target on my back, and I can feel it.
He comes around the bar, flopping onto the stool next to me, kicking his boots up on the rail with a carefree smile.
“Everything okay?” he asks, eyeing me, picking up on something.
I don’t want to talk about it yet. I’m still trying to shake off the conversation with Rhea, trying to focus on the task at hand.
“Just got some business to handle,” I mutter, not looking at him.
Finn shrugs, takes a deep breath, then grabs a napkin, wiping his face dramatically as if the bar’s silence is affecting him too. He knows when to leave me alone and when not to.
“So, tonight has beeninterestingfor me too.”
My eyes snap up. “What do you mean?”
Finn leans back, his eyes twinkling with mischief, his grin widening.
"I met this new girl tonight," he says, as if it's no big deal, but I can tell by the way his eyes shift that there's more to the story. "Sweet thing. Looks like she doesn't belong in a place like this, but that’s part of the fun, right? Our new start and everything."
My gut tightens. I don’t enjoy the sound of it. I don’t enjoy anything about this.
We’re supposed to be laying low here, creating a quiet life.
Finn’s shrugs. “She’s just passing through, but she’s got that vibe. You know, the kind that pulls you in and makes you want to protect her. And I don’t even know her yet, but I already get the feeling that her story is a hell of a lot heavier than she lets on.”
I feel the familiar flare of instinct run through me. It’s a sharp, almost physical pull in my chest, something that’s telling me to stay alert.Sweet girls get hurt in our world.
I don’t want to know where this is going.
