“They could try,” Morgan salutes me with the last of her sandwich before she finishes it. “They’d have to catch me first.”
I just shake my head at that. We finish the rest of our lunch in silence.
“I just…” I start, and then falter. “I wish he’d let me in more. That’s all. Sometimes I feel like I’m only married to half a man.”
Morgan is silent, which for her is a sign that’ she’s actually listening. I look up. “You ever had that with anyone?” I ask. “That sense that they’re always just slightly out of reach?”
She snorts. “Kayla, I’m a lesbian in rural Montana. The hell do you think I know about relationships? But seriously, Roman loves you. The rest is just…bullshit. You know that, right?”
I nod, but I don’t really believe it.
Morgan glances at the time on her phone. “Shit, I need to get back. Gia will murder me if I’m late again.”
We dispose of our trash and head for the exit. Outside, the October air has a crisp edge to it, the sky a clear, deep blue that makes me think of Roman’s eyes. Since I have the day off, I say goodbye to Morgan and head toward the small parking lot behind the restaurant where I left my car.
As I walk toward my car, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I suddenly feel like I’m being watched. I scan the parking lot, my heart rate picking up when I spot him: a man straddling a motorcycle at the far edge of the lot, his gaze fixed directly on me.
He’s wearing a leather cut, but even at this distance, I can tell it’s not the Devil’s Rejects’ familiar skull logo. This is someone from another club. I freeze, uncertain what to do. Should I turn back? Go into one of the shops? Call Roman?
Before I can decide, the biker notices me staring back. In one fluid motion, he kicks his bike to life, the engine roaring in the quiet afternoon. He peels out of the parking lot without looking back, leaving me standing there with my heart hammering against my ribs.
I take a shaky breath, making a mental note to tell Roman about this later. Maybe it’s nothing; random bikers pass through town all the time. But the intentness of his stare felt deliberate. Like he was looking for me specifically.
My hand trembles slightly as I dig my keys out of my purse. I’m almost to my car when I hear it.
“Hey, plant lady!”
My stomach drops. I know that voice. For a split second, I consider pretending I didn’t hear, just getting in my car and driving away. But I’d probably hear about it later from Roman if I did.
Naomi stands next to a gleaming motorcycle, flanked by two Devil’s Rejects members I vaguely recognize from club gatherings. Her wild curls are pulled back in a ponytail, and in the direct sun they look even more vibrant than usual, almost unnaturally red. She’s wearing skintight jeans and her cut. Looking at it reminds me of that night and I feel my shoulders tensing up.
“Naomi,” I say, injecting false brightness into my voice. “Always such a pleasure to see you.”
God, I hope that didn’t sound as sarcastic as it felt.
Naomi saunters toward me, the men who are with her trailing behind.
“I see you’re still around,” she says, looking me up and down like I’m a mildly interesting insect.
I blink. “Was that a question? Because… yes?”
She studies me for a beat, then looks over her shoulder at her companions. “I like her,” she says, loud enough that I’m prettysure half the lot can hear. “She’s got guts. Doesn’t she have guts, boys?”
Neither man answers.
I sigh, adjusting my purse strap on my shoulder. “What do you want, Naomi?”
Naomi turns back towards me, lowering her voice. “Most of Viper’s previous playthings would’ve run for the hills by now.”
I stiffen at the word “playthings,” but force myself to maintain eye contact. I will not let her see how much she’s getting to me.
“I think I would actually be upset if anything bad happened to you,” she continues and I could almost believe her words if her eyes weren’t glittering with malice.
I look at her, then at the men flanking her, then back at her. “Is that a threat?”
She smiles. “It’s a statement of fact. The world’s a dangerous place. People get hurt. But you don’t have to worry. You’re one of us. Aren’t you?”
One of the bikers with her shifts uncomfortably. “Tech, we really need to get moving.”