Unruly (26 page)

All of which meant that he was expecting disaster to come knocking any minute now. If his mother had taught him anything in his childhood, it was that trouble likes a calm sea as much as the next person. The difference, inevitably, was that trouble turned a calm sea into the start of a hurricane as like as not.

So it wasn't terribly shocking when Zoe texted and said, “Coming up tomorrow.”

He pulled out of traffic to reply. He hadn't been her brother and occasional father for all these years
not
to have learned a few things about his little sister. She was terse as a way to withhold information—often information he
should
have. It was her way of avoiding conflict, of aiming to keep those seas still and relaxed. By now it had the exact opposite effect on him. Her short, terse texts or messages raised alarms.

“What happened?” he replied.

“Talk tomorrow. Ana with me. Love.”

Alamo scowled at the phone, even though his sister couldn't see his expression. They had been at an impasse often enough for him to know that pushing her wouldn't get him anywhere. That didn't mean he could skip asking questions. Trying to get a few details out of his stubbornly closemouthed baby sister wasn't easy, but it was necessary for him to have any peace of mind.

He texted, “Hurt?”

“No.”

“Need escort?”

“Still no. Am OK. Coming up. LOVE.” Zoe was far too fierce for her own good. If he'd had his way, he'd have sent her to one of those fancy private schools he'd seen on television programs, but that took a lot more cash than he had. Since he'd been fifteen, he'd taken work as a mechanic when he could find it. It was good honest work, and now that he was employed by the Wolves, he had that income as well. All told, he'd added to his savings over the years, dipping into it for Zoe's books and clothes and things. She had a fund given to her by her father, but it came with strings . . . and Alamo would rather work until he collapsed than have her tie herself even a little to her father.

He didn't remember the man well, but he knew that when Anthony Battista had been arrested, it was more than local news. He'd killed for hire—not that being paid or killing were inherently an issue under all circumstances. Alamo wouldn't be a Wolf if he thought that. However, Zoe's dad had reputedly enjoyed his work a bit too much. He'd made the news in that way that only the truly sensationalized crimes did. So accepting his money wasn't an option for Zoe, and forcing the matter hadn't ever been even a consideration for Alamo.

That meant focusing on earning so as to provide for Zoe. Luckily, they could get enough grants to cover Zoe's college tuition, partly because in-state tuition wasn't as high as tuition at a private college. It was still a bit more than he'd had saved, but with the grants, he'd made it work. Zoe didn't ask how, and he wasn't going to bring it up.

He was going to strangle her if she didn't get better about telling him secrets at a distance. Her refusal to put anything into type wasn't as much of a problem when they lived in the same apartment. Now that they were in different states, it was a huge pain in the ass.

Several more texts to Zoe went unanswered, but she finally sent a reply saying, “In class. Stop. Will see you tomorrow.”

After another scowl at his phone, he shoved it back into his pocket and resumed his drive.

When he pulled into the lot of Williamsville Community College, he didn't have far to go to find Ellen. She was standing at the edge of the lot looking toward the main buildings of the tiny campus. She turned when she heard the sound of his bike, and the frown on her face was quickly replaced by a wide smile.

“Do you know any sexy singers in want of a ride?”

Ellen cocked her hip and looked him up and down in that unapologetic way of hers. “Depends. Do you make a habit of lurking in school parking lots?”

“I might, but only if you're going to be in them,” he said.

She laughed. “Good answer.”

“Leave your car. I'll bring you back tonight if you want.”

“What if I don't want?”

“Then I'll bring you back in the morning.”

“Let me get my helmet out of the car.” She sashayed to her car like she was on a stage and then looked back to make sure he was watching.

He was. “You trying to kill me with those hips, darlin'?”

Her laugh was lighter than he'd heard any time other than when they'd gone riding. “Honey, you ain't seen nothing yet,” she said in an exaggerated drawl.

He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

Chapter 25

T
HE NEXT DAY
I
SPOTTED THE TWO KHAKI-CLAD STRANGERS
everywhere I turned on campus. The taller of the two seemed to be the alpha dog. Both were in their midtwenties, looked like they were lost en route to a country club, and had enough subtle signs of money that I knew they weren't community college students. I didn't recognize either of them, and I didn't see them talking to anyone in a familiar way. They spoke to people, but no one greeted them like they were friends.

I was very careful not to let them see me talking too long to my usual friends. I was already avoiding Noah, so that was easy. Aubrey was busy with tonight's party. I kept my conversations with everyone else to under five minutes. It was a little ridiculous, but until I knew who and what these two wanted, I was being cautious. I had no idea if they'd been following me long. I didn't think they had because based on today, they were far from stealthy.

By the end of the day, I'd run out of patience. I didn't
do
stalkee. Not now, not ever. I debated telling someone, calling one of the Wolves, but I also didn't do helpless maiden very well. I wanted something more concrete than “two guys keep watching me” before I talked to anyone.

So I waited for my chance. Once I was sure they were near enough to hear me, I silenced my phone and pretended to make a call. “I'm headed to the car. I'll see you soon.”

Then I walked toward the lot as quickly as I could without seeming to be rushing. I stepped behind a truck with a massive lift kit and quickly crouched down. I stayed down and ducked behind several cars until I was on the far side of the lot, near my car in case I needed to reach it but well hidden.

I was parked in the outermost row near the restored El Camino that my friend Toby drove. He had it lowered so it would all but brush gravel if it hit a slight bump. I felt a little ridiculous hiding behind a car, but better that than being a victim because I ignored the pit in my gut.

I watched the two buttoned-up types look around the parking lot. The taller of the two made a remark to his companion. I couldn't hear the words, but I didn't need to hear it to know that he was angry or frustrated. The stiff body and wide hand motion conveyed that well enough—as did the other guy's tightening expression.

I hid and watched as they walked toward a Lexus that I'd thought was theirs. It wasn't sports car flashy, but it had that money feel to it.

“Well? Where did she go?” the taller khaki asked.

“How the fuck would I know?” the other answered.

“She should be here. That was her last class.” Despite irritation, he seemed to at least be a little bit observant. That
had
been my last class of the day. On the other hand, my schedule wasn't terribly complex, and the campus was small enough that it wouldn't take long to suss out my schedule. That idea made me increasingly uneasy, though, because it meant that they might have watched me for a few days before I noticed. That made me feel both nervous and stupid.

The shorter guy was looking around the lot, and I tensed as his eyes raked over the area where I was hidden. His voice carried well as he said, “Well, we'd see her if she was here. That chick dresses like a blind vagrant.”

Silently I flipped him off, even though he couldn't see my gesture. I was insulted, but I was also relieved that I wasn't imagining that they were following me. I didn't consider myself paranoid, but being stalked was unexpected. There was no way they meant anyone else, though, not with that reference to my clothes.

Once they got into their car and left, I stood and walked to my beat-up Civic. It was about as well used as a car could get while still being functional. Right now, though, it felt like a fabulously protective castle. I wasn't scared per se, but no good comes of being stalked.

I had a few options. In my defense, I
did
know which one I probably should choose, but I didn't want to call in the Wolves unless I had too. I loved bikers, loved
these
bikers in particular, but they weren't renowned for being . . . cautious with their solutions. More important, Killer was on the way out to start his military career. He didn't need new trouble landing on his plate when he was trying to head to the door.

I suspected that Noah, Alamo, or Big Eddie would step into Killer's soon-to-be-vacant spot—at least temporarily. Even if they didn't, however, there were plenty of guys who could be called upon to handle any trouble. Adding to the things the club had to sort out right now was unnecessary if I could handle it myself.

So I was going to opt for the less wise path.

I couldn't decide if I was nervous or angry. Either way, my hands were shaking enough as I tried to put my key in the ignition that I dropped the whole ring on the floor of the car. I didn't want trouble, but I couldn't decide if there would be more complications if I took a minute to handle the stalkers or if I told Killer. Anyone other than Killer, Alamo, or Noah would go directly to Echo. Hell, Alamo or Noah would at least update Killer. The downside to being valued by the club president and the boys was that there was no way to turn that wasn't going to run the risk of angering them.

These assholes who were watching me had just put me in a bad situation. I wanted to hit them for it.

First, though, I had a going-away party to handle.

I was still shaking a little when I arrived at home, not visibly enough that Mama would ask harder questions than I could answer, but enough that she noticed.

“You'll do great, Ellie.” She smiled reassuringly, meeting my gaze and giving me the same maternal smile she'd offered when I was a kid nervously about to go onstage with my father.

Tonight Mama was as dressed up as she had always been on those nights when she came with me and Daddy while we sang. She used to call it her “mother of the singer” look, but her body-defining jeans and bright pink blouse were also what she called date clothes, so basically, it was all the same. Whether it was as my cheerleader or some man's date, she was getting all gussied up and preening.

“I just need to get ready and then we'll go.” I smiled at her, relaxing more now that I was home. At least I
was
relaxing until a stray thought hit me. “Have there been any odd guests or strangers around lately?”

Mama had started toward the kitchen as I ascended the stairs, but she stopped and looked back at me. Her hands landed on her hips and her gaze narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

I bit back my frustration and tried to sound calm. “Have there?”

She paused, and I could all but see her thinking over the faces she'd seen and the events of her days. She had that same faraway look when she was paging through recipes in her mind or surveying the fridge to see what we had and what she could create with it. I hated seeing that look because of the question I'd asked, but I needed to know.

After a few moments, Mama shook her head. “No one.” Then she looked me straight in the eye and repeated, “Why?”

I shrugged and half answered, “I saw a couple of strangers on campus, but I usually recognize everyone. I don't want to make a thing of it, but it seemed odd.”

All of that was true. I had just omitted the part about their stalking me and discussing me.

Mama nodded. “I'll keep an eye out. If anything seems worrisome, we'll let Echo know.”

And there was nothing more to say: for her, Echo was the answer.

I made a noise of agreement and headed up to get dressed. It was a party for one of my friends, as well as my first time singing for the club in years. Plus, of course, Alamo would be there, and I wanted to look good for him. I wasn't foolish enough to think that Alamo I were . . .
something
. We'd had a couple of good nights, and we seemed like we could have more of them. I wasn't ready to start thinking of commitments—or maybe I was simply rationalizing because I was gun-shy after things with Noah had become so supremely fucked up. If I was to be completely honest with myself, I might admit that Alamo seemed like a fantasy come to life. I wasn't ready for that kind of admission, not anywhere other than in one quiet corner of my mind where I could ignore it.

That didn't mean I was prepared to see him with two girls when he walked into Wolves & Whiskey a few hours later. It was foolish for it to matter, but it did. My heart fell.