Page 9 of Property of Bob

Prime stared at me.

I stared back.

Then his mouth twitched. “You’re gonna fit in fine.”

“I am not trying to fit in. I’m trying to see Bob.”

His amusement disappeared slightly. “Tomorrow.” The answer landed heavier than it should have.

Tomorrow. I had spent all day driving toward him, and now Ash was sitting in a hospital somewhere while I was stuck on his haunted island.

Fantastic.

I reluctantly followed Prime.

The path didn’t stay dark long. A low building came into view through the trees with lights glowing from the windows and motorcycles parked outside. A lot of motorcycles.

I glanced at them. “How many of you live here?”

“Enough.”

“That doesn’t answer anything.”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You answer almost none of them.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t plan on being here long enough to get used to anything.”

Prime looked over at me but didn’t say anything.

I tightened my grip on my bag. A few days was all I needed. That was the plan. Get the RV fixed, talk to Ash, and figure out what the hell I was going to do next. Then leave. Simple.

Except Ashland was apparently in the hospital and judging by Prime’s careful answers, whatever had happened to him hadn’t been simple at all.

Prime climbed the porch steps and pushed open the door.

Warm air hit me first, followed by the smell of coffee, beer, food, and something fried. The room was huge, with couches, tables, a pool table, and a long bar running along one wall. Men wearing the same Kings of Anarchy cut as Prime were scattered around the room, along with a few women.

Conversation slowly died. Within seconds, everyone was staring at me.

I moved closer to Prime. “Why is everyone staring?”

“New face.”

“Tell them to stop.”

“No.”

“Great hospitality.”

A huge man standing near the end of the bar looked between us. “Who’d you bring home?”

Prime grinned. Something told me I wasn’t going to like whatever came next. “Found her in the parking lot looking for Ashland Moore.”

Silence. Complete, absolute silence.