Page 24 of Little Bunny

“Are you sure you can ride?” Santiago asked Diablo as they headed toward their motorcycles parked in front of the tavern under the late morning sun. Diablo had changed clothes, and now had boots on his feet, but he didn’t look any better than he had twenty minutes ago.

“Do I look like I need a nanny?” Diablo grinned and winked, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Matias had wanted to question Diablo to find out what happened, but they had a long ride ahead of them if they were going to make it to the gravesite in time.

Santiago’s gut told him something was off, but knew how important this trip was to the guy.

After swinging a leg over his hog, Santiago fired it up, the engine roaring to life with a deep rumble. He revved it a few times, the bike responding with a throaty growl. He pulled out behind Diablo, the two navigating through the streets. As soon as they passed the town limits, they accelerated, their bikes roaring down the winding countryside, the scenery blurring past them.

Santiago kept a steady pace behind Diablo, watching the man closely. His riding was solid, controlled, but something about his posture was off. Diablo was too rigid, his movements not as effortless as usual.

The late morning sun blazed overhead, the heat rolling off the pavement in shimmering waves. Sweat clung to the back of Santiago’s neck, but his focus stayed locked on the road and on Diablo.

They weaved through the back roads, the hot air whipping past them. Diablo took the curves without hesitation, but Santiago’s instincts were telling him something wasn’t right.

Then Diablo veered left.

Santiago frowned. That wasn’t the route they were supposed to take. He twisted the throttle, closing the distance. Where the hell was he going?

The turn took them off the main path and down a sunbaked road riddled with cracks and weeds sprouting through the asphalt.

The farther they went, the quieter everything felt—the kind of quiet that made Santiago’s gut twist.

Another turn. Then another.

Santiago’s grip tightened on the handlebars. A rush of unease crawled up his spine. He didn’t know why, but he knew Diablo wasn’t just taking a detour. He was heading somewhere with purpose.

Shit.

Santiago gunned the throttle, roaring past Diablo, cutting him off before he reached the entrance. Tires screeched as he skidded to a stop, blocking the road ahead.

Dust kicked up around them as Diablo slammed on his brakes, his bike jerking to a hard stop just feet away from Santiago.

Santiago swung off his hog, stepping right into Diablo’s space before the man could move. “You didn’t mention anything about a side trip.”

Diablo seemed unfazed at Santiago’s outburst. He just sat there, his engine rumbling, staring at the building ahead, his jaw clenched, his nostrils flared.

“Talk to me, man,” Santiago said. “Tell me what you’re up to.”

“That building.” Diablo jutted his chin toward it as sweat began to bead over his brows, his eyes a little unfocused.

Santiago glanced over his shoulder at the structure then glanced back at Diablo. “What about it?”

“I just need to go there,” he replied in an almost detached tone.

No one knew what happened to Diablo when he was taken, but his dark eyes were haunted, like he’d lived through some kind of horror.

Santiago took a step closer, his brows furrowed. “What did they do to you, Diablo?”

He dragged his gaze to Santiago. “I want to look around, see what I can find.”

“Find?” Santiago said with exasperation. “D, tell me what you hope to find there? What’s going on?”

Instead of answering him, Diablo drove around Santiago’s bike, only inches between the chrome as he passed, then drove on.

With a curse, Santiago hopped onto his hog and followed. But he was taking precautions. Pulling out his cell phone, he shared his location Matias before sending a text.

Looks like rain. Devil in the details. Could use some pitchforks for possible roast.

Santiago tucked his phone away and parked behind Diablo, who was already standing by a rusted side door, rubbing his bandaged wrists.

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