You know why.
My heart begins to race the closer I get to Cheyenne. Do I really think I can pull this off? Not really. I’m not a particularly good liar. I like honesty. It makes life so much easier, which in return keeps things peaceful. I sigh loudly knowing that peace isn’t going to come to me any time soon.
I’m not sure I can handle this kind of lifestyle again. My hand searches my bag, looking for the prescription bottle I always keep nearby. It’s my plan B if plan A doesn’t work out.
The unease in my gut eats at me and eats at me. This is the feeling I’ve tried so hard to avoid. Those horrible knots in your stomach that never loosen. I’d finally just untied them from my childhood. But I can’t even blame my brother for passing his problems off on me. He lived how we were taught. He doesn’t … didn’t know anything else.
It only takes a few hours to get to Cheyenne. Not nearly long enough to wrap my head around this insane idea, so I drive downtown, trying to get a feel for the place. It’s Wyoming’s biggest town, but it’s not very big at all. Not that I mind. In fact, it’s what I prefer. Not that I’ll be staying.
I pull up the address the Scorpions gave me. It’s a few miles outside of town. I was hoping to meet the leader of the Royal Bastards in a more public setting, but when I get there, I see it’s just a bar. At least there will be other people around.
I park beside a few trees, and then I flip the visor down to put on a little makeup. Maybe this will be easier than I think. Not that I’m thinking about anything. I don’t really have a plan. Which is probably stupid.
My mind wanders to Mr. Johnson lying in a pool of his own blood. What advice would he offer me right now?
He would tell me to go in there and be honest with this Chase guy.
I take a deep breath. Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I mean, who am I trying to fool? I’m not the type of girl to … well, todo whatever it takes. Not since I left my mom’s. Since then, I’ve developed boundaries, and I’m not going to cross them.
When I step inside the bar, every set of eyes in the room turns in my direction.
This is a mistake.
The bartender waves me over. “What can I get you, little lady?”
His smile instantly relaxes me. “I’ll just take whatever diet soda you have,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “You came in here …” he swirls his finger in a circle, “for a diet soda?”
I laugh and sit down at the bar. “Uh, yeah. I’ve been on the road all day and I’m thirsty, but I don’t drink alcohol.”
He cracks open a can of Diet Coke and pushes it across the bar before sliding me a full glass of ice.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a small sip while digging in my purse for my wallet. The ten-dollar bill Mr. Johnson gave me catches my attention, and for a brief moment I feel like I’m going to have a complete breakdown. I push it to the side, forcing myself to stay focused. “I was wondering if you happened to know a Chase Turner.”
“Who did you say you were looking for?”
“Um, Chase Turner,” I answer nervously.
He laughs, tipping his head toward the darkest corner of the bar. “He’s right over there, sweetie, but calling him by his government name might get you ...” He pauses to draw a finger across his throat.
I glance over my shoulder, finding the president of the Royal Bastards watching us with a stillness that is unsettling. “What should I call him then?”
“Folks around here call him Rage.”
My head spins back around. “Rage?”
The older man runs his fingers through his greying beard while studying me. “I think you might be a little out of your element here.”
“You think?” I say, staring at the drink in front of me. “On second thought, could you add something a little stronger.”
He chuckles under his breath, pulling the glass toward him and adding a golden-brown whiskey to it. “There you go. One shot of liquid courage.”
“Make it two.”
His eyebrow rises as he gives me a little more. I stir it up and take a good swig before turning around. The man in the corner is still looking at me, so I give him a tiny wave. He doesn’t acknowledge me whatsoever, but the scowl on his face intensifies.
“What do I owe you?” I ask, shifting my focus back to the kinder looking man in front of me.