“Filthy biker?” I repeat his phrase, hoping he’s not meaning who I think he is.
“Yeah, the one who hung off you like you were his to claim,” he spits out. “You’re not, you’re mine!”
“You saw us? How? How did you see us, professor?”
“I used my binoculars after climbing a tree to watch you. I had to make sure you were safe, Britton. I couldn’t get close to that house of sin they call a clubhouse, so I had to improvise. I used the lot over, one the owners don’t monitor.”
I picture it in my head and I know which one he’s talking about. I researched it because it’s a beautiful plot of nature. Its native land, still preserved by the Comanche tribe whose forefathers settled there and claimed the land as their own. Somehow, they managed to hold onto it, even after many men tried to claim it for themselves—battles were fought there due to greediness. Nobody currently lives there, but they refuse to sell it since it’s a part of their history.
If I manage to escapehisclutches, I’ll be letting them know it’s being trespassed on and tell the Kings that the property adjacent to them is being used to spy on the club.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
LoneStar
Booker hassome sort of equipment he ordered from a buddy, which is military grade, and is scanning the entire property, both inside and out for listening devices. So far, he’s come up empty which is a good thing, but again, it’s not. It leaves a lot of our questions open-ended without knowing where to go to close those gaps. If somebody hasn’t been eavesdropping on our meetings and conversations, how are they getting their intel? Because there’s no way they’re not, they know too much about what our next planned move is and have been counteracting it like they’re professional chess players. They’re getting insider information, I know they are, there’s no question about it in my mind. It’s a gut instinct.
There’s a game going on, one with dire consequences and one the Kings aren’t privy too, andthatis unacceptable.
I’m having a hard time keeping my feet still as I walk from one end of our fence line to the other, unable to settle my mind. Booker can’t physically take care of two jobs at the same time,so his search for Britton has been placed on a temporary hold, which isn’t setting right with me. Britton could be in imminent danger. She needs me and I feel like I’m letting her down. I should be out on the streets, scouring the world for her, saving her from whatever shitshow she’s found herself starring in. However, I know if I do that, I could end up being on the other side of the country and some info would come in and I wouldn’t be able to get to her in a timely manner. No matter what I do or where I go, it’s a crapshoot.
Damned if I do and damned if I don’t—the running theme of my life these days.
As I walk through the forestry behind the clubhouse, a small voice captures my attention and I tune in, recognizing Elodie’s excited voice and follow it to where she’s bent over a few leaves, moving them around with a stick. Jersey is directly behind her, little G strapped to her chest in the carrier Icer uses when he walks around with the kiddo.
“Whatch’a doing, Ellie?” I ask, needing a distraction, walking closer to her and using the nickname that slips free sometimes when I talk to her. Indiana scowls at me when I do and Icer grunts at me, but sometimes, saying Elodie can be a mouthful.
“We’re looking for bugs in their natural habitant,” Elodie animatedly replies, her eyes bright and shiny with elation.
“Habitat,” Jersey says, politely correcting her in a soft, soothing tone.
“What she said,” Elodie smarts off, aiming a thumb over her shoulder and pointing it in Jersey’s direction.
“What she said is correct,” I state, crouching down beside Elodie and looking down at what she’s discovered. “What have you found so far in your exploration?”
“Explore a what?” Elodie asks, her eyebrows scrunched together.
“Exploration,” I repeat, smiling at her cuteness. I try and break it down into words that’ll be easier for her to decipher. “It means walking around and looking for things.”
“We’ll add that to our dictionary words,” Jersey inputs, typing something into her phone.
Jersey looks up at me and says, “I’m making notes in my app of things we need to add to the curriculum as we explore.”
“Ah,” I answer, glancing back over at Elodie to give her my attention. “So, little lady, what have you found?”
“Lady bugs and roly polies!” she yells, glancing up at me again. “They’re so cute,” she gushes, holding her hands together in front of her chest, poking herself with the stick on the chin. She looks at it with a frown, as if it’s betrayed her before shrugging her shoulders and going back to her search.
I look up at Jersey and say, “It could be worse, you could’ve come upon a fire ant pile. They’re notorious for making their homes here where there’s not a lot of foot traffic. I accidentally stepped on one that was covered by some fallen leaves and had them going up and down my leg, biting me along the way.”
“We’ve been lucky in that case,” she says, bouncing a now fussy boy. She went into the right field, she’s great with kids of all ages it seems. “But she gets restless when she’s stuck indoors so I try to add some learning experiences to the outdoors.”
“How do you like the one on one instruction instead of teaching a class full of kids?” I ask her as I stand back up, letting Elodie do her thing without me hovering over her.
“I’m enjoying it,” she responds. “I get more time to interact with her and she’s not overwhelmed by the larger number of kids.”
“Do you think she has social awkwardness?” I inquire, unsure of how that’ll go over as she gets older since there’s always a clubhouse full of people.
