Page 57 of Tick Tock, Boom!

Reluctantly, I slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the car came to life. Relief poured through me.

I got out quickly. “Thank you. Really. Can I pay you or..."

He was watching me now, eyes narrowing slightly. “Do I know you?”

Shit.

I turned away just enough to let my hair fall over my face. “I don’t think so. I just moved here from California.”

“Huh. I could swear..."

“Thank you,” I cut him off, grabbing the driver’s side door. “If I can ever repay you..."

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted, but he kept looking at me, fidgeting like he was trying to place a memory.

I slid into the car, heart thudding, and drove off, watching him shrink in the rearview mirror, just a shadow stsnding in the middle of the road.

I didn’t breathe until he was completely out of sight.

Please dont recognize me.

Please don't recognize me.

"He was cool, Mom." Gabriel said from the back seat.

"Yes, he was," I agreed, softly.

I had to be more careful. If one of them recognized me they'd go straight to Tick Tock, wherever the hell he was hiding, and I couldn't risk that. Not with that little boy sitting in my back seat.

TICK TOCK

The clubhouse felt different these days, there was less tension and was becoming more like the home it used to be. A sense of calm had returned, even if it was temporary. Definitely a lot more trust among the members. Tonight, had been a good night so far, we were just hanging out by the bar, just talking and relaxing. Heavy boots thudded against hardwood floor, there was the occasional sharp crack of billiard balls colliding, and the rustle of leather as men leaned over pool tables, beers in hand as they watched a football game on the new television sets, we'd installed them days earlier. At times, laughter echoed off the walls as a few of the guys gathered around the tables by the bar out front. Riddick was halfway into a story about a pair of twins he’d met at some dive bar near Lafayette when Knuckles finally walked in, late as usual.

He looked rough, road-dust still clinging to his jeans, hair windblown, and a quizzical furrower brow pasted on his face as he walked in. I sat with Macabre and Riddick, nursing a beer, boots up on the table.

“Took your sweet ass time,” Riddick called out.

Knuckles grunted and dropped down beside us. Riddick turned to the prospect behind the bar and signaled for another beer.

“You good?” I asked.

He nodded once, then shrugged. “Stopped to help a lady on the side of the road. Car was busted. Had a kid with her.”

Riddick raised a brow, grinning. “Knuckles the good Samaritan. That’s new.”

“Fuck off,” he grunted.

“You get a number?” Powertrain called from the other side of the room.

Knuckles shook his head, but something lingered behind his eyes. “I swear I knew her from somewhere,” he muttered.

“Probably just one of the many women you’ve left in a trail of broken hearts,” Riddick teased. “They’re bound to pop back up eventually.”

“You sayin’ I got a reputation?” Knuckles smirked.

“Not sayin’. Just stating facts.”

We were all chuckling when the front door slammed open. Goshawk stepped in, his eyes sharp and features hard.

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