Riptide slams on the brakes, and the bikes behind us do the same. Tires screech around us from all angles and in deafening pitches. Tanner and Riptide twist around in their seats to stare at me.
“What the fuck, Britt?” Tanner asks. His emotions are already raw, so I let the bark in his voice slide and roll off my shoulders.
“Remember there was something I needed to tell you two and you told me to wait until after I’ve rested?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Tanner replies. “But do we have to do it in the middle of the road?”
I sink down into the back seat and bite my thumb. “Yes. Because seeing that plot of land brought the memory up.”
“What about that land had you remembering that you needed to speak with us, Britton?” Riptide inquires, glancing between me and the property.
“Because that’s where he watches the club and memorizes your activity,” I convey.
“Wait. Back up a minute. It’s where who spies on the club and where does he do it from, exactly?” Riptide asks, taking the lead as Tanner yanks off his seatbelt and leans forward, placing his elbows on the dashboard, surveying the area.
“Professor Stratton. He told me that he scouts the club from that property. He didn’t give me a specific area, just that it’s not monitored so that’s where he watches the comings and goings of the men and women. He came back one time frantic because ya’ll switched up your routine and were riding in pairs instead of individually.”
“Why is he watching us, Britt?” Tanner asks.
“Because he sees you as Trevor,” I explain.
“Who the fuck is Trevor?” Riptide probes.
“He’s the hero from one of my books. He won the woman, and for some damn reason, that set Mr. Stratton off.”
“Let’s finish this conversation in my office,” Riptide orders as he puts the truck back in gear and presses his lead foot on the accelerator, jolting us forward like we’re in a high speed chase. A scream gets lodged in my throat as I reach up and dig my hand into the roof, trying to keep myself from toppling over.
I must be in shock because I don’t remember us pulling into the parking lot, getting out of the truck, or walking through the clubhouse. I snap out of it when I’m sat in a chair and a cold bottle of water is placed in my hands.
Tanner is kneeling in front of me when I come to. “You good, darlin’?”
Frenziedly nodding my head, I robotically reply, “I’m good.”
“Sorry about scaring you, Britton. Without having all the facts and details, the only thing I could think of was getting us out of the line of fire,” Riptide apologizes.
“I understand and it was a good call,” I comment. “Because I have no doubts that we were being watched and he knows I’m back.”
Riptide leans back onto his desk, one leg crossed over the other as he asks, “Tell me more about this character that the professor thinks is LoneStar.”
I give the the synopsis of my book including the kidnapping, Trevor rescuing Mara, Clint being arrested and sentenced to twenty years in the penal system, how they fell in love and formed an ever-lasting bond, and how Mr. Stratton wanted it revised to the way he thought it should’ve ended.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right, he wants this Clint fella to end up with Mara instead of Trevor?” Riptide asks, his brows drawn up into his forehead. “He does realize it’s fiction, doesn’t he?”
I can tell he’s upset because he’s all but repeating the same words in the same question. Van says he does that when he’s trying to work out a puzzle that doesn’t seem solvable, but I’d never heard it for myself until just now.
“If he didn’t have a marble loose he would,” Tanner mumbles, scraping his hand down his face. “So he’s reenacting this book you wrote and trying to rewrite it, am I getting that right?”
“Pretty much,” I corroborate, shrugging my shoulders.
“He’s wacko,” Riptide surmises.
“So he wants me gone so he can get the girl,” Tanner says, thinking out loud.
“You’re a real Casanova, aren’t you LoneStar?” Riptide snarkily asks, but to my ears, it sounds like an accusation. But when Tanner chuckles, I figure my hormonal emotions are in charge of my common sense and wave it off instead of getting huffy.
“I guess I’m gonna be bait to bring him out and into the open,” Tanner suggests, which has my heart rate spiking.
“No. No, no, no,” I chant, violently shaking my head. “He’s sick, you can’t deliberately put yourself in a perilous situation like that because he’s not rational! His thinking cap is on backward, there’s no reasoning with him, Tanner.”
