Page 12 of Haunted By the Storm
"Everything quiet?" I ask as we approach.
Shadow nods. "No sign of trouble. But there's a blue sedan parked two blocks down that's been there since we arrived. Can't see the driver from here."
Camryn tenses beside me. "What kind of car does Eric drive?" I ask her.
"I don't know," she admits. "I haven't seen him in eight years. He used to have a black pickup, but..."
"Blue sedan could be nothing," Digger says, straightening up. "But better not to take chances."
I nod in agreement. "You two lead the way and draw them off if it is someone watching. We'll follow a few minutes behind, take the back roads to the clubhouse."
"Got it," Shadow says, swinging his leg over his bike. "Meet you there in thirty?"
"Make it forty-five," I say. "Gonna take a real roundabout way just to be sure."
Digger claps me on the shoulder before mounting his own bike. "Watch your six, brother."
"Always do," I reply.
The rumble of their engines fills the quiet street as they pull away, deliberately passing the blue sedan on their way out of the neighborhood. I watch until they're out of sight then turn to Camryn and Emily.
"Your car’s out back," I tell them. "Let's move."
Camryn takes Emily's hand, and I lead them through the side gate to where Camryn’s car is parked. I toss their bags in the back seat and help Emily into her booster seat, which Camryn insists on checking herself before she's satisfied.
Once they're all settled, I slide into the driver’s side and start the engine then pull out onto a side street, deliberately avoiding the route my brothers took.
"Are we playing hide and seek?" Emily asks from the back seat, oblivious to the tension radiating from her mother beside me.
"Something like that," I say, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. "We're taking the scenic route to the clubhouse."
"I like scenic routes," she declares. "You get to see all sorts of cool things."
"Exactly," I agree, making a mental note of how easy it is to talk to this kid. Most children either annoy the hell out of me or are too intimidated to say much. Emily seems comfortable enough to chat but not so chatty that it grates on my nerves.
Camryn, on the other hand, is silent beside me, her eyes constantly scanning our surroundings, one hand gripping the door handle so tightly her knuckles are white.
"Relax," I say quietly, just for her ears. "We're good. No one's following us."
She gives a jerky nod but doesn't loosen her grip. I don't push it. Fear isn't something that can be reasoned away, especially when it's as deeply rooted as hers seems to be.
We drive in relative silence for a while. Emily eventually gets bored with the "scenic route" and pulls out a coloring book from her backpack. The scratch of her crayons is the only sound in the car until I turn onto an industrial street that leads to the clubhouse.
"Almost there," I tell them as we pass a line of warehouses. The clubhouse sits at the end of the street, a large brick building with heavy iron gates across the entrance to the compound. Two prospects are stationed at the gate, checking everyone who enters.
"That's your clubhouse?" Emily asks, pressing her face against the window. "It's so big!"
"It was once an old factory," I explain. "We converted it. Now it's home."
Camryn's grip on the door handle finally relaxes a bit as she takes in the high walls and security measures. "It does look secure," she admits.
I pull up to the gate, and the prospects immediately straighten when they see me in Camryn’s car. The newer recruit, Mitch, approaches my window.
"Storm," he greets with a nod. "Everything good?"
"Fine," I say shortly. "Open up."
He signals to the other prospect, who manually slides the heavy gate open. I drive through slowly, giving Camryn and Emily a chance to take in the compound. The main building stands in the center, with a large parking area for bikes and cars. There's a separate garage for repairs and a smaller building that serves as our gym and training area. The whole place is surrounded by a fifteen-foot wall topped with security wire.
