Page 90 of Ridin' Free
“Fuck,” he whispered.
He tried again and was met with the same result.
Staring down at his screen unseeingly, he furrowed his brow in concentration.
Twenty-four hours ago, the two of them stood in his kitchen, both of them declaring they were good. He made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t in danger of losing him. Far from it. It didn’t make sense that now she would cut him off cold. There had to be an explanation.
‘I’m not Ali, okay? Not anymore. I thought I could be but?—’
‘Don’t worry, Red. Your secret’s safe with me.’
He didn’t know what any of it meant.
He couldn’t fathom what it implied.
Whatever the truth was, he damn sure intended to find it.
Rather than return to the driveway in order to mount his hog, he sat on one of her lounge chairs and waited. Waited for movement inside. Waited for his phone to buzz with an alert. Waited for answers he knew, deep down, he wouldn’t like.
The sun was starting to get hot on the back of his kutte as it rose higher in the sky. After an hour of staring into what seemed to be her vacant house, the sound of birds chirping in a peaceful melody completely contrary to his mood, he cursed under his breath and finally stood.
He needed to get to the shop.
He wasn’t thrilled about leaving, but his Ali had a knack for taking what she wanted. Now, she obviously wanted more space, and he felt obligated to give it to her.
Before he took his leave, he shot off a text.
I’m here when you’re ready, baby.
He wasn’t stupid enough to expect an immediate response, but he pocketed his phone hopeful all she needed was a little time. He refused to believe they were done. Neither would he entertain the notion that she could go longer without him than he could without her.
Ali. Phoenix. It didn’t matter what she wanted to be called so long as she remained his.
As the day wore on,his patience waned, making him restless and irritable. He didn’t even try to hide it, which Slick was not afraid to acknowledge.
“I don’t know what the fuck your issue is, but you’re not exactly approachable, which makes you useless,” he grumbled.
Twister knit his eyebrows together in a scowl causing Slick to bark out a mocking laugh as he shook his head.
“Don’t you have work you can do in the back?”
Before he could open his mouth to respond, Twister’s phone began to ring from inside his pocket. He was quick to reach for it. When he saw Mustang was calling, he hesitated with a frown. It wasn’t who he was expecting. Nevertheless, he swiped his thumb across the screen and brought the device to his ear.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Hey. You seen Phoenix?”
Twister got a sinking feeling in his stomach as he replied, “No. Why?”
“She was supposed to be at the bar an hour ago. Rodeo called me in early to open up when she wouldn’t answer his calls. She’s not answerin’ me, either. Weird as fuck. Can’t remember a single instance where she was late. Never once has she no-showed. Somethin’s off.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, reaching up with his free hand to rub at his eyes. “I’m on it.”
He didn’t wait for Mustang to respond before he disconnected. He then started to make his way out from behind the register, calling out over his shoulder, “I gotta go.”
Whether or not Slick offered anything in reply, Twister didn’t know—his mind was already somewhere else. For years, he’d known Ali as Phoenix; and Phoenix was nothing if not reliable. If anything, he’d go so far as to say the only reason she’d been the untouchable bar manager at Steel Mustang for so long was because the only identity she claimed was that of the bar wench unafraid of breaking up a fight.
Pushing him away, demanding he not follow her, that was not out of character for his Ali-Mae. Standing Mustang up fora shift at the bar, that sure as hell was not the Phoenix he or anyone else knew.
