“Where will you go? And for how long? Do you think you’ll be able to come back to Waco?”
“I don’t know. If I do decide to come back, it won’t be for a while. I’m thinking Coeur d’Alene.”
“What’s in Coeur d’Alene?” she asked.
“Mom lived there. Grammie told me she loved it. It’s on the water, but has mountains nearby.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“If this shit with the Iron Horsemen wasn’t happening, would you still think about leaving Waco?”
I paused a moment before answering. “I don’t know. Maybe. All this feels like a giant wake up call. I can’t keep doing this, can I?”
“Doing what, exactly? Eating takeout and working too many nights at the bar? Not dating or even thinking about dating? I actually support your decision to leave. I just wish it wasn’t happening this way.”
“Me too. I’m packing a bag and will leave early tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll miss the shit out of you, but I want you safe.”
Sadness enveloped me—for a different reason this time. “I’ll miss our morning coffee and pastry time.”
“Me too.”
I would be missing so much when I left town, but I knew I couldn’t stay. Richie’s warning drummed in my bones.
“Love you, girl,” she said quietly. “Call me when you’ve touched down.”
“Love you too. Be safe, okay? Be alert.”
“I will, but that guy didn’t come to me.”
“Thank God for that. I’m glad it’s me and not you.”
Shelly had Mark. She had the promise of a beautiful future. I didn’t want this dark cloud to storm over her head. No, I’d weather it alone. Deal with it myself.
We hung up and I tossed my phone onto the bed. I had just enough energy to pack a bag. I needed a few hours of sleep and then I’d hit the road in the morning. I took a shower to wash the bar smell off me and then put on a pair of my most comfortable pajamas.
I pulled back the comforter and turned out the light of my bedroom. Climbing into bed, I breathed a sigh of relief. My neighborhood was old and quiet, and there was no street traffic at this time of night. Even though my mind was active, my body was exhausted and I managed to drift off into a light doze.
It was the roar of a motorcycle that woke me.
I shot up in bed and listened, my head cocked. I heard the sound again, only this time I could tell there were two bikes. They were drawing closer, and like an animal that knew it was prey, I realized without a doubt that they were coming for me. There was no stealth to them—they wanted me to know they were coming.
They wanted me afraid.
An icy finger of fear trailed down my spine and for a moment I froze like I was trapped. But my brain finally kicked my inert body into action. I threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed.
I slipped on the pair of flip-flops and grabbed my cell from the nightstand. I unlocked the phone and started to dial 911, and then remembered what Shelly had told me about crooked cops. I stuffed the cell into the pocket of my pajama bottoms and rushed to the bedroom window in a panic. My purse and truck keys were in the front room and I didn’t want to waste precious time getting them. I scrambled through the open window as I heard the engines of the motorcycles shut off somewhere in front of the house. I landed in the brush beneath the window. My flip-flops didn’t protect my feet from the bramble and I held in a stream of curses.
I listened for sounds of boots on grass, but there was nothing. Pressing my back to the house, I inched away, heading toward my neighbor’s backyard. I heard a knock on my front door. After a moment, there was another knock, and then after a brief pause, someone kicked in the door.
Keeping to the shadows, I continued to edge away, moving farther from my house. Only when I zigzagged down the neighborhood of old homes with neat lawns did I give in to my urge to run. I tripped over an exposed withered tree root and went sprawling, landing hard on my left wrist and knees. I somehow held in a moan.
I forced myself up using adrenaline to fight through my terror and pain.
I kicked off my flip-flops because they were slowing me down, but I grabbed them before taking to the sidewalk, avoiding broken glass and raised cracks in the old cement as I trekked on. I sprinted across the pavement at the end of the block. I kept going, despite scraping the bottoms of my feet bloody. My lungs burned, but I pushed forward. I ran until I was out of the neighborhood.
I knew exactly where I was headed. Charlie’s Motorcycle Repair was nestled in between my house and the commercial district of downtown. I hadn’t realized that it belonged to the Blue Angels—not until the night Colt kissed me and I saw the Blue Angels logo on his leather vest. When I reached the garage, I looked up at the sign with the now familiar emblem; a skull flanked by open angel wings.
If I was going to turn to anyone, it would be to a man who had already proven he was a protector of women.
My truck and wallet were still at my house. I was in pajamas, alone and injured. I couldn’t call the cops and I refused to call Shelly. Better to take my chances with the Blue Angels than get her mixed up in any of this.
I sat down on the steps that led to the shop’s office, knowing it was a terrible idea to be a sitting duck, but also knowing that I didn’t have much of a choice. So far, the neighborhood was quiet and there had been no street traffic. After sliding on my flip-flops, I tucked myself into the doorway and made myself as small as possible, so that if anyone drove by, they would see nothing but shadows. My heart rate eventually slowed, and I had a hard time staying awake. Cradling my tender wrist in my lap, I leaned my head against the doorjamb and succumbed to sleep.
“I didn’t know you could order chicks from Amazon,” a voice said, tugging me from unconsciousness.
“Wake her up,” another voice commanded.
A hand touched my shoulder, nudging me into consciousness. “Shit,” the first voice cursed. “Colt, it’s your bartender from the other night.”
My eyes opened and I flinched in recognition at the face in front of me. I put my wrist down to move and sit up straight and an involuntary moan escaped my lips.
“Mia, right’?” Zip asked.
I nodded.
My gaze wandered from Zip’s leaner form to the man standing behind him. Colt wore a ferocious scowl, along with a few days’ worth of scruff that did nothing to hide a strong, angular jaw. A bruise lingered at the corner of his eye and his lower lip was split from the fight with the meathead. He crossed tattooed arms over his leather cut.
Colt clearly remembered me—and didn’t look happy about it.
“Can we go inside?” I croaked. “My butt is kinda numb.”
“Sure we can,” Zip said. He reached down to help me, and I gave him my good hand, keeping my injured one close to my body. “Have you been here all night?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you hurt yourself?” Zip asked as he took out keys from his pocket to unlock the office door.
“I tripped over a tree root and braced my fall with my wrist. Not the brightest idea.”
Zip opened the door and gestured for me to go inside. There was a desk in the far corner with a new laptop, two chairs, one in front of the desk and one behind it, and a long brown leather couch up against the wall. My neck had a twinge from resting it against the doorjamb and I wished I had been able to sleep on the couch instead. Bright sunlight filtered through the creases of the blinds, but I didn’t know the hour. There were still no sounds of traffic, and I realized it was still early.