Page 141 of Property of Bob

I didn’t like any of it. Actually, that was putting it mildly.

I fucking hated it.

I’d thought the situation at the campground had been scary. Someone following me, breaking into my RV, slashing my tire, and searching through my things had been enough to send me driving three days across the country looking for a man I hadn’t seen in twenty years.

This was different.

This was someone who had been playing with the Kings for months. Someone who had killed people. Someone who had nearly killed Bob. And now they knew for sure that Ron had been taking orders from them.

I sat on the couch beside Bob with my legs curled beneath me and tried not to think too hard about the words Anchor had told us were printed across the fax.

YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.

The common room was full, but it wasn’t as loud as it normally was. Nobody had gone off to their rooms after dinner. Nobody had left the clubhouse. Anchor hadn’t technically ordered everyone to stay in the common room, but that was pretty much what had happened anyway.

The television was on. I had no idea what we were watching. Neither did Bob, judging by the fact that he’d barely looked at it. He’d been touching me since he’d gotten back from Ron’s office.

When he’d first walked into the clubhouse, he’d come straight to me. I’d barely managed to ask what happened before his hand had gone to the back of my neck and he’d pulled me into him.

He’d kissed my forehead.

Then my lips.

After Anchor explained what they’d found, Bob had kept me beside him.

Through dinner, his knee had been pressed against mine beneath the table.

Now his arm was stretched across the back of the couch behind me, and his fingers were absently moving against my shoulder.

Every once in a while, they’d slide up into my hair. Then back down, like he needed to keep checking that I was still there.

I probably should’ve been bothered by that, but I wasn’t, because I was doing pretty much the same thing.

My thigh was pressed against his. My hand rested on his leg. Every time he got up, my eyes followed him until he came back.

I knew the clubhouse was probably one of the safest places I could be right now. There were armed bikers everywhere. Nobody was wandering around the island alone. Doors were locked. Cameras were being watched.

None of that made me feel as safe as Bob sitting beside me. He was the reason I’d come here in the first place.

And every time his fingers moved against my shoulder, some of the tightness in my chest eased.

“You okay?”

I looked up at him. Bob was watching me. “Yeah.”

His eyebrows lifted.

I smiled slightly. “That wasn’t very convincing, was it?”

“No,” he chuckled.

“I’m okay. I just don’t like knowing someone was watching you guys.”

“Don’t know that they were actually watching us.”

I gave him a look.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I don’t fucking believe that either.”