Page 73 of Guarded Secrets
“This is really nice. I haven’t been this way in too long. It’s easy to forget how much I love this landscape.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad you invited me.”
Owen’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and he nodded.
“Me too.” He put on mirrored sunglasses. They looked like a shield. He might want a platonic friendship, but she had a feeling he was struggling with it like she was.
“Tell me about your cousin. Are you close?”
He glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned. “Close enough. We both had challenges growing up, but my grandparents wanted us to know each other. When I spent the summers in Sisters, my grandparents would have Zoey and Charlie, that’s her brother, come out for at least a week or so. We all work to stay in touch.”
His gaze went to the rearview mirror again. Keeley shifted in her seat so she could see the side mirror. A group of motorcycle riders, she counted at least a dozen headlights, were fast approaching from behind. They stayed there until the road straightened when they passed, open throttles making a loud rumble.
The riders wore matching leather jackets with Ravagers MC stitched in Gothic-style lettering across the back, and black helmetsKeeley thought looked like those worn by the Nazis in World War II.
“Shit,” Owen growled.
“Problem?”
“Ravagers are an outlaw motorcycle club out of Sacramento. They’re known to cause trouble.”
The riders disappeared around the bend and Keeley breathed easier. That is, until Owen steered around the curve and immediately hit the brakes.
The riders blocked the highway, and when Owen swerved into a turnout, they moved as a group and arranged their bikes as a barrier to keep the Bronco blocked in.
“Keep your seatbelt on. This goes sideways I’m flooring it to get us out of here, even if I have to take out some of them. That happens, princess? You get down as low as you can get, and you stay down until I say we’re clear.” His voice was hard, eyes like flint. “Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
He stopped the Bronco, keeping it in drive with his foot on the brake. One of the Ravagers swung off his bike, took his time to remove his helmet and stow it on the bike, then lit a cigarette. He took a drag as he strolled toward them. Owen threw his sunglasses on the dash and pressed the button to lower his window.
Motorcycle guy had a grizzled face with a long beard and gray hair pulled back in a scraggly ponytail. Below the sleeves of his shirt, his hands were tattooed, another design creeping up his neck from under his shirt. “Owen Hardesty. Guess you’re wonderin’ why I stopped you.”
“You know my name. What’s yours?”
The older man’s eyes were hidden behind dark goggles. He blew out a stream of smoke. “Go by Nero. This ain’t what I’d call an adversarial interaction. I got no beef with you. I got no beef with your lady.”
“Get to the point,” Owen growled.
“I got no beef, but your lady here’s got somethin’ of ours. We want it back. I get it, you’ll be free to go.” He tapped the cigarette to knock off some ash.
“You’ll need to clarify.”
“Talkin’ about her former boyfriend who stole something from my club. The former boyfriend says she has it and we’re wantin’ it back. She gives it to me, we’ll be on our way. She don’t give it to me, well, that’ll be a problem.”
“This former boyfriend got a name?”
Nero’s forehead wrinkled above his goggles. “We’re talkin’ about Jaxon Romero with a fuckin’ stupid man-bun.”
“I know the guy. We agree on the hair. What’d he steal?”
“Information.”
“What kind of information? In what form?”
Nero took another pull on the cigarette. “You’re askin’ a lot of questions.”
Owen let the statement hang.
Leaving the cigarette dangling from his lips, Nero tilted his head and sighed like he was in deep contemplation. Finally, he said, “See now, I did a little research. You got background as a cop, and I expect if you’re not carrying, you’ve got a weapon in this vehicle somewhere. This leads me to deduce you’re an hombre who don’t mess around. Given that, I don’t want you too curious about the information fuckin’ Romero stole from my club.”
