Page 12 of Fury
"What's in LA?" I demand, grabbing his arm. "What the hell is going on?"
Wilder looks at me, and for the first time, I see fear beneath his anger. "Someone's been stalking my daughter. We thought she left it behind in California."
Cold fury washes over me. "Looks like it followed her home."
The three of us move as one unit toward the exit, all previous tension momentarily set aside in the face of a common threat. As we push through the crowded main room, I catch Trent's eye and give a sharp nod. Within seconds, he's gathering our core members, the silent language of the club needing no explanation.
"I want prospects on the house tonight," I tell Wilder as we hit the parking lot. "My guys, your guys, I don't care. But she doesn't go anywhere alone until we figure this out."
For a moment, Wilder studies me, something new in his expression. Then he nods once, a gesture heavy with meaning beyond simple agreement.
"We'll talk about you and my daughter later." Swinging his leg over onto his bike, he adds, "Right now, let's make sure she's safe."
As I start my own motorcycle, the kiss Livie and I shared feels like it happened in another lifetime. The sweet promise of a new beginning has been overshadowed by a darker reality—someone is watching her. Hunting her.
And they'll have to go through me to get to her.
I gun the engine, the roar echoing my silent vow. Whoever this stalker is, they've made a fatal mistake following her here. This isn't LA with its overworked police force and anonymous crowds.
Chapter
Three
Livie
I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white as I check the rearview mirror for the fifth time in as many minutes. The dark sedan is still there, hanging back just far enough to avoid suspicion, but close enough that I can feel the driver's eyes on me like a physical weight.
"This isn't happening," I whisper to myself, but the cold fear crawling up my spine tells me otherwise. "Not here. Not again."
The sedan speeds up slightly, closing the distance between us. My breath catches in my throat as panic surges through me. I fumble for my phone, nearly dropping it as I pull up my mom's contact. My finger hovers over the call button for a split second before I press it, bringing the phone to my ear with a trembling hand.
"Livie? Did you make it home?" Mom's voice is warm, slightly concerned.
"Mom," I manage, my voice cracking. "I think—I think someone's following me."
"What?" Her tone sharpens instantly. "Where are you?"
"About two minutes from home, but—" I swallow hard, checking the mirror again. "It's a dark sedan with tinted windows. Like in LA, Mom. Just like in LA."
She sucks in a sharp breath. "Go straight home and open the gate at the last second and slam it shut. Then keep on driving through the community to put distance between you," she demands, her voice slightly shaky, but it gives me a boost of confidence.
"He's still behind me," I tell her, my voice rising with panic. "Mom, he's following my turns exactly."
"Just get to the gate. You remember the code?"
"Yes," I breathe, pushing my car faster than I should on these quiet streets. "8427."
"Good girl. Don't hang up."
The gate to our property is just ahead, its high stone walls and electronic keypad promising safety. I punch in the code with shaking fingers, barely waiting for the gate to slide open before I gun the engine and slip through.
But as I look back, my blood turns to ice. The sedan has stopped directly in front of the gate. Through the windshield glare, I can make out a shadowy figure leaning out of the driver's window, reaching for the keypad.
"Mom," I whisper, horror closing my throat. "He's trying to get in. He's punching numbers into the gate."
"Lock your doors, Livie. Stay in your car. They’re three minutes out."
The figure continues methodically pressing buttons, trying combinations. Each attempt makes the keypad flash red, but he doesn't stop. My heart hammers against my ribs as I realize he's not giving up.
