by Zoey Parker
“Hey, man,” Rowan said to Nate. “We need a meeting. Can you set one up for tomorrow?”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks.”
“Everything cool?” Nate asked.
“Yeah. Just want to finalize the plan and get things moving.”
“Gotcha.”
Rowan hung up and drove home. He was there long enough to change and go right back out the door. He couldn’t just sit around, and he had far too much negative energy that had to be burned off.
At the gym, every time a thought of Becca came to his mind, he added more weight to the machine and pushed himself harder. He sweated and grunted through the exertion, forcing his muscles to work as hard as they could. At the end of an hour, his shirt was soaked through and he felt better.
But in the locker room, as he changed to drive home, he wondered if Becca had left work yet and if the flowers had still been there. What had she thought when she saw them? Would she have guessed they were from him? Did they make her happy or more upset? Would she throw them down on the ground and trample them or take them home and put them in a vase?
As he was leaving to head home, he remembered he’d never given her money for the towels and blankets and things he’d ruined while she was taking care of him. He hadn’t sold that old bike yet. Well, he did have a good bit of money saved up in his stash. That’d cover the damages and then some. He’d always planned to hand her a nice chunk of change, and now it was even more important that he followed through. He couldn’t have her thinking that, on top of everything else, he didn’t follow through on what he said. Or that he was ungrateful for all she’d done to care for him when he was near death.
He stopped at home and went right to his bedroom. He bent down and pulled up the heating vent. Behind the wall, out of sight, was one of his stashes. He pulled out the wad of cash and counted it. Several thousands of dollars. This would be enough. He had hoped to buy her a car, but she could do whatever she wanted with the money. Pay bills, buy Emma something nice. It would help her and that was all that mattered to him at this point. That he kept his word and helped her one last time.
Rowan didn’t know what time she’d be done work. There was a possibility she was already home. He’d have to be careful about this. The money was tucked into an envelope with her name on the front. Inside, he’d a left a note that simply said, Becca—for everything. Thanks, Rowan.
At her house, he didn’t see her car, which was good, but he’d need to be quick so she didn’t turn up while he was there. He went to the block of mailboxes at the side of the apartment building and found hers. He opened the box, slipped in the envelope, and hopped right back on his bike. He took off, looking around as he did, and made sure no one had seen him.
He’d wished he could be there to see her open the envelope. He’d almost wanted to hide in the woods and spy on her, watching until she got home and opened the mail. But that would be creepy, and he really didn’t want to hide for who knew how long. Could be hours. Would she be mad about the money? Feel like he was buying her off or giving her dirty money or something? She might. But being in such a hard position as a single mom, she’d probably not be able to turn it down. Wasn’t like she had a way to give it back anyhow. She didn’t know where he lived. She’d have to call him. Which might be okay. Any excuse to talk to her would be fine. He’d never accept the money back, but she could try. If he hadn’t been worried about tracking, he’d have written her a check so he’d know if she cashed it or not. But that wasn’t an option for him. Most of his money remained in cash form. Hopefully she’d get the envelope and feel relieved or happy. Hopefully it would somehow make her think better of him for it, not worse.
He got home feeling worse than he had before because now he was also tired and his muscles were started to get stiff and sore. Nothing left to do with this day but crawl into bed and hope it was better in the morning.
###
Rowan woke up and stared at the curtains, where the sunlight made the black and gray stripes lighter and faded. He felt sore, but it was a good sore. He’d worked hard yesterday.
His mind jumped right to Becca and he forced the thought away. He wasn’t going to ruin his day first thing. He’d put off thinking of her as long as possible. Today, he had the meeting with his club, and he had a pickup to do. First thing, he’d need a shower to wake up.
He threw back the covers and got out of bed to stretch. The soreness rippled through his legs, then his arms as he bent and reached. The hot water of the shower felt like heaven and he stood there longer than he normally did, letting it wash away everything he didn’t want to carry around today.
He pulled on jeans and a clean shirt from his closet. He turned to leave his room, and there she was. Sudden and vivid in his mind. He’d tried to ignore her too long. Becca’s face, smiling and happy in the store window. He shook his head to clear it. But it was too late. The rock settled back into his stomach. He breathed deeply, trying to breathe out the dread.
In his kitchen, he made coffee, extra strong. He pulled a protein bar from his pantry and stared blankly out the window as he ate it. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, hoping it was Becca. But it was Nate, telling him the meeting was set for later today.
He left the house, mainly for something to do so he wasn’t sitting around trying not to think of Becca. He had to focus. He did need to scout some locations. If they were going to take out Abram and his guys, they’d need a solid place to put the bodies afterward. Maybe his guys had found a good spot, but it wouldn’t hurt to check himself. It’d give him something to do.
What was the best way for this to go down? It was easiest just to shoot them, but there was one good reason not to go that route. The traceability. If the bullet was found, it could potentially be linked back to him if he weren’t careful. He was good with a knife, though, and he’d have a gun as a backup if things were too complicated. He could always dig out the bullet, he guessed.
They’d have to track Abram’s movement for a few days. He wanted to get him as alone as possible. No reason to involve a bunch of extra guys from Abram’s club or his own. And the other guys who’d attacked him could wait until later. Really, he just wanted Abram. The Scared Birds would crumble without him. They were barely a club as it was. Little organization, little heart. Once they took out Abram, Rowan would inspect every remaining member, choose who he’d recruit and either kick the rest to the curb or take them out, depending upon whether or not they’d attacked him or had any other strike against them. How many could he add to his numbers? Two or three at least. Maybe not too many more, only because most of them were useless. But a few new guys would be cool.
He pulled up to a spot where the road fell away on one side. There was a guardrail, leading him to believe whatever was over the edge was far down. He parked and walked around to see. Below was just rocks and grass. Too exposed. He got back on his bike and drove off.
He still had a little while until the meeting, so he kept driving. A few more spots, a few more options and that’d be good. That way, if something went wrong when it all went down, they’d have a backup.
There was a large cement pipe at the bottom of an overpass, near the river. This might be a good spot. He didn’t want to walk down there and leave his shoe prints, so he stopped on the overpass to see what could be seen from the road. Not too much. Only part of the cement pipe. One end was completely obscured from the street, and the end that could be seen was only visible from far away. If anyone saw, they would be far enough away to get little detail of anything. This was a good spot. The water would wash away evidence, though they’d need to be cautious of the mud. Too easy to leave behind perfect shoe prints. But other than that, it was a good spot. Perfect backup if the guys already had a better place for the drop.
He glanced at his phone. Every time he did, he wished there’d be a message from Becca. He went to his pictures and looked at the one photo he had of her. One he’d taken without either her or Em
ma knowing. While they were making breakfast, Emma and her mom were looking at one of Emma’s stuffed animals and he’d caught a shot of Becca smiling at the bunny while Emma held it up proudly. It was a cute picture and he’d looked at it too many times. He put his phone away. The battery was already getting low and if she did call, he didn’t want it to run out mid-conversation. He thought of calling her or texting her, but reminded himself he’d decided to leave her alone. To get over her for good. He wouldn’t go back to the mental place he was in yesterday. He couldn’t survive there in that awful, lonely, cold place, missing her and wanting her like that. Feeling like he wasn’t good enough. He was more than good enough for some awesome lady out there; he just needed to find her.
It was time to start heading back to his house, also the Jagged Rebels headquarters. The guys would probably be there already. He liked to come in later. It made him feel more in control somehow. He still needed to gather his thoughts and make a note of everything he wanted to cover with them. Mostly, it was the plan for Abram and his club. But he made a mental list of a few other little things to discuss.
As he rode, Rowan tried to take note of his surroundings. He looked at the trees and the cars around him, felt the warm sun on his body as its heat seeped through his jacket and jeans. He still needed a new Rebels jacket to replace his damaged one. He’d need to order that today. He hated riding around without it.
The sun glinted off his deep gray bike, the light tinted by his helmet’s face shield. He wished he could feel the wind on his face, but he was going so fast the wind would make his eyes water, so he kept the shield down. He inhaled and smelled the flowers and plants around him. Connecting with nature usually made him feel better, but it wasn’t something he could manage to do easily. There was always so much going on that it was difficult to take time to just sit in the grass and watch the world go by. But maybe he needed that. Maybe tonight, after the guys left, he’d lay out in his backyard under the stars and stare for a while. Maybe work out some of these feelings about Becca.
He looked ahead at the road and noticed the air seemed thicker than normal. It was too late in the day to be fog, and it was also too high in the air and too restricted to one spot. Not fog. Smoke. And the thing that made him speed up was that it was in the direction of his house.
Those asses wouldn’t go that far, would they? No one had called him or messaged him. His phone was in his pocket and he would have felt it vibrate. Maybe it was okay. Maybe it was just a house nearby and his place was fine.
He turned onto his street and saw that the smoke was thick and filling the air quickly. He could see his house. And from its roof poured white streams of smoke. It was his house on fire. Abram and his gang had struck again.
Chapter 8
Becca stared across the store, in somewhat of a daze. She’d been thinking far too much lately and had spent a lot of time tangling her thoughts and feelings together in a messy ball that was proving difficult to unravel. She didn’t know what to think or feel about Rowan anymore. The only thing she knew was none of it felt good.
She’d treated him badly. He’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t acted out against her in any way. He hadn’t acted anything like Nick in any way, really. She was judging him, like he’d said. She heard the MC leader part and had changed everything she knew about him. In fact, she’d completely erased everything she knew about him and saw only Nick and his meanness and his criminal activity and his violence.
But Rowan had been kind. He’d had nothing but patience with Emma. He’d been a perfect house guest when she was helping him recuperate after his injuries. He’d even paid for the things he’d damaged as he said he would, which she hadn’t really counted on at all. But when she opened her mail yesterday and saw the envelope of cash, she’d been floored. It was far more than he needed to give her to pay for the damages, and it was like he was saying he wanted to make up for it all somehow. The money probably came from an illegal source. She knew this. But so had all of Nick’s money and she and Emma had lived on that for years, so why not take this money now when she so badly needed it?
Not that the towels and everything needed to be replaced, but the car needed new brakes and Emma was growing out of her clothes. The car insurance was also going to be due soon and she hadn’t known how she was going to pay for it. Well, she did now. This money was a big help. And it proved he kept his word. After their fight, she’d thought she’d never hear from him again. She thought she’d ruined things between them by turning cold like that and saying horrible things to him. But maybe he wasn’t so mad after all. Maybe he didn’t hate her.
And then there were the flowers. Highly mysterious. She’d walked out to her car after work yesterday and seen a bunch of bright flowers sitting on her car’s roof. They had no note or anything. Just sat there, innocent and curious. They were gorgeous. Were they from Rowan? It wasn’t like she had a secret admirer that she knew of, and she wasn’t so delusional to think guys really did that anyway. There was no one else in her life who would give her flowers. There were only two possibilities. They were from Rowan. Or they were from someone malicious.
She almost hadn’t wanted to pick them up. Her mind went wild. After having a gun pressed to her head, who knew what these flowers might mean? They could be poisoned for all she knew. She might put them in her car and drive home as the poison filled the air and killed her. The main thing that helped her avoid believing that theory was that they had been sitting outside. If something was airborne, it would surely have evaporated or dissipated by now. She was also aware that she was thinking in a slightly paranoid fashion. Which was only heightened by the fact that her first thought upon seeing them was that Nick had found them and brought her flowers to torture her.
She had no reason to think Nick had found them or was even trying to look for them. She figured that as long as she wasn’t trying to get him to pay child support, he had no reason to complain. But she still wondered. She’d been his for so long and she’d taken his child away. If for nothing else than the control factor, wouldn’t he come to find them? Just to show his dominance over her and to prove she couldn’t leave him? Wouldn’t he need to save face in front of his MC? Or maybe he’d told them he kicked her out. That’d be fine with her. She wished she could contact one of the wives she’d been somewhat friends with. Just to see what Nick’s emotional state was and what he was saying about the whole thing. But that was far too dangerous. She’d never take that chance.
After a few minutes of thinking, she’d shaken out the flowers a bit, decided not to sniff them just in case, and set them on her passenger seat, near the window. Then she put the window down when she got inside.
Maybe she was paranoid, but better safe than sorry. And lately, with the strange man who luckily hadn’t shown up at the shop again, and then the frightening attack, she didn’t think there was such a thing as paranoia for someone in her case.
In fact, she was quite fearful of going home. She’d even put a kitchen knife in her car. Though she had no idea how she’d keep Emma from seeing it. She was still grateful Emma had no idea what happened with the gunman. All she needed was to see Mommy with a gun against her head. But, somehow, she’d been spared. The poor kid had enough to deal with after being hit by her father twice, watching her mother be hit so many times, and all the yelling he’d done. All he did was yell. And then they’d up and left one day in the middle of the night. If Emma turned out anything close to normal, Becca would be relieved.
When she’d gotten home, she looked around frantically. She’d sat in her car so long, waiting and watching, that Emma had asked what was wrong. Becca got out of the car and made Emma stay in her seat. She checked around the building and made sure no one suspicious was around. She gripped the knife tight in her hand and when she got Emma out of her seat, tucked the knife into her pocket. She kept her hand on the handle as they walked in the building.
When they were inside, she locked the door and the deadbolt and moved the couch in fro
nt of the door again. She put the knife on the counter in the kitchen, back far enough that Emma couldn’t reach it, but that she could grab it fast. She took another knife into her bedroom and put it under her pillow. She really needed to get a gun. She went through every room in the apartment, making sure the windows were secure.
“Mommy, why is our couch always there now?” Emma pointed and tilted her head to the side.
“I just thought it gives us more room that way.”
“Can we move the TV and table, too? Then we’d have lots of room!”
“Let’s just leave it like this for a while, okay?”
“Okay.” Emma plopped down on the couch and picked up her animals to play.
Becca couldn’t decide what to do with herself. She’d put the flowers in a drinking glass that would have to double as a vase since she didn’t own one. At first, she set them on the kitchen counter, but that felt too close to Emma, so, just in case, she moved them to her bedroom and put them by the window. They looked nice there and she made herself think they were from Rowan every time she looked at them. At least that made her feel good. Thinking they could be from Nick made her want to throw up.
