He didn’t know when he’d leave the cabin, so he’d busy himself with drinking and fixing shit.
Once he checked out and paid, he threw the bags in the back of his truck and headed over to Bernadette's. The bell above the door dinged as he entered, and instantly he smelled the scent of food frying. Although the diner was small, and the town was as intimate as you’d imagine a mountain community to be, the inside of the diner was already packed with the dinner rush.
He made his way up to the front counter and took a seat at the only empty spot, braced his forearms on the aged and worn linoleum countertop, and waited to be served. He looked around, recognizing a couple of the older customers, ones he’d seen over the years. And although he made this town his home just as much as he had Reckless, he wasn’t up here enough to really be friendly with anyone.
And that’s how he liked it. He was one antisocial motherfucker.
“Hey, darlin’,” the waitress said, her nametag showing she was Patricia. She was a middle-aged woman with wrinkles around her eyes and a gap between her teeth.
He gave her a small smile he knew didn’t reach his eyes and placed his order. When she left, he went back to looking around the diner, ready to leave, because he was starting to feel claustrophobic with the thick push of bodies and the chatter surrounding him.
Scars never claimed to be a good guy, wouldn’t be called a gentle heart or a kind soul. Although he laid his life down for anyone he cared about, would do anything for the people he called family—blood or not—anyone else wasn’t even on his radar. So being in this diner had his skin tightening, his pulse increasing slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck and faced forward, staring at the pie display, his jaw locked tight. He bounced his leg, becoming agitated.
He watched an older couple eating at one of the booths, the man starting to argue with the woman before she said something that shut him up. Scars let his gaze fall on another man sitting at the counter, his shirt stained with sweat, his hands dirty from no doubt doing manual labor all day.
That’s how a lot of the men and women here were. The mountain town was a working community, it’s main reputation for their lumber distribution throughout the state.
He continued to look around the diner and was about to glance back at the counter, when a lone woman sitting at the farthest table in the corner caught his attention. She was tiny, with a mane of dark-brown hair, almost black in its color, tucked under a baseball cap and shielding her on either side like a curtain. She had a roadmap spread out on the table in front of her, a cup of what he assumed was coffee beside that, and opposite the mug was a slice of half-eaten pie.
She was bouncing her leg under the table, pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth, and kept glancing up at the door every time the bell warned of a new person entering.
The nervousness coming from her was tangible, and for some reason, Scars found his protectiveness rising up. She was afraid of something or someone, and although he considered himself a bastard to almost everyone, he had a soft spot for making sure women and children were protected. He liked to think his daughter brought that out in him, made him more human in that regard.
She pulled her baseball cap down lower, shielding her eyes from him. He didn’t like that something had clearly spooked her, but he also didn’t like that he got like this and didn’t even know her.
He looked away from her, staring down at the cup of coffee the waitress had set in front of him. He came to the cabin to concentrate on other things, mainly himself and trying to clear his head. But the more he tried to think about those things, the more the woman sitting across the diner pulled his focus.
That didn’t sit well with him, made him feel unsteady, so he asked Patricia to bag his stuff to go, and then he paid for his items, stood, and headed toward the front door. But something made him look over his shoulder at that woman once more, his hand on the handle, about to pull it open so he could leave.
She glanced up, and their eyes locked. Scars swore the air stilled around him then instantly heated. His heart started to race, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Never in his life had he had this kind of reaction to a woman. It had been a long fucking time since he’d given a shit about anyone who wasn’t his daughter or his brothers.
That had him feeling angry at himself, pissed at the situation, and so damn confused at what was happening.
He pulled the door open and left, knowing he was going to get piss-ass drunk tonight and put all this behind him.
4
Hannah had stopped at this little diner in this mountain town an hour ago. She needed a break from driving, her ass and back hurting from sitting in the car for so long, her legs aching.
She was exhausted, so tired it went down to her bones. And although she wanted to keep moving, get as far away from the shit following her as she could, she also just wanted to sleep for a solid day.
But that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
She’d ordered coffee after coffee. And every time Hannah heard that little bell above the door ding, her fear took hold.
Hannah knew she looked junkie as hell, probably even suspicious. And that was solidified when she noticed a man looking at her. He was built solidly and big, appeared rough around the edges, with tattoos, and a body so tall he almost looked like a giant sitting on that tiny barstool.
And he had his focus on her. She felt it before she even looked up and saw he watched her. At first, she thought he knew who she was, that he was connected to Landon.
But common sense told her that wasn’t possible. She’d left hours ago while Landon had been unconscious. There was no way he could’ve had somebody follow her and show up almost exactly at the same time she did. That gave her a little bit of peace, but still, the man watching her did it so intently it was like he knew she was running from something.
She wasn’t afraid of him exactly. Although his size, all those muscles, and tattoos were frightening all in itself, it was the way he watched her. It was as if he were trying to understand her, find all her secrets. And when he’d been about to leave, something in her had tightened uncomfortably. And that feeling in her intensified when he stopped before leaving the diner and looked over at her once more.
She didn’t know who he was.
She didn’t know what he wanted or why he seemed so interested in her, but it set Hannah on edge.
She paid for her coffee and got a couple sandwiches to go. She’d stop at the next town and rest for a little bit. She wouldn’t get a motel, not wanting to leave a paper trail. Although Landon wasn’t some kind of prodigy when it came to finding out that kind of information, she had no doubts he knew people who did.
He had connections, other lowlifes like him who could probably find a person even if they didn’t want to be found.
She didn’t know how long she’d drive and didn’t know how far she’d go. Hannah didn’t even know where she was going. All she knew was she had to keep moving.
Maybe she’d killed Landon, and all this running was for nothing?
No, she was surviving.
Once in her car with the door shut, she instinctively locked it. Hannah had left her phone back at the house in her rush to leave, only grabbing her purse, but she was thankful she didn’t have the cell. That could be tracked.