Page 37 of The Belle and the Biker

Callie is waiting for me when I leave his office, and she waves me over, smoothing her hair out of her face.

"So let me get this straight. A guy was gunning for you in New York City, and you lead him back here?"

I grimace and sit down next to her. "If this has anything to do with that, I am very sorry I put you in danger."

"Damn, Savannah. I'm still holding a grudge for what you did to Daisy, and I can only hold so many grudges at once."

I bite down on my lip before I can say what I'm thinking, which is that I'm pretty sure that for Callie, grudges are one of the four main food groups. An essential part of her daily diet. She's a good person underneath it all, but she's a huge perfectionist who expects everyone to live up to her high standards. She's inherited a lot of her mother's stress-out tendencies; either everything's absolutely perfect, or it's a complete disaster. I also suspect that she's harder on herself than everyone else. In grade school, she got an A minus once. She cried so hard that she threw up and went to the nurse's office.

"I had no idea he'd followed me here, Callie. I don't even know how he found me! Assuming it was him."

"The odds are pretty good, though, aren't they?"

I grimace. "I mean, the safe thing is to operate on the assumption that it's the same guy. All right, I'm going to head back home now. Deputy Willis said he'd drive behind me to make sure I get home safely. You have someone picking you up?"

"Yes, my car's been towed, and Daisy and Chase are coming to get me, even though I could walk from here. She's just freaked out about us being followed, so she's probably going to mother-hen me until this is resolved, which is annoying because mother-henning is my job."

"Just in case this guy isn't the shooter from New York, be careful. He might be some random creepo stalking women on back country roads."

She chews her lower lip thoughtfully. "I wonder if we should try to organize the detective club again."

She, Daisy, and Naomi used to be in this little "detective club" that Daisy started in grade school. Daisy and Naomi were huge Nancy Drew nerds, and Callie felt obligated to tag along so they wouldn't tarnish the family name too badly with their shenanigans. They re-formed the detective club last summer and busted Chase Lancaster's father for hiding barrels of toxic waste in the swamp on the Abernathy property.

However, Daisy nearly got murdered in the process. And this is way too dangerous for them to get involved with.

"I don't want you anywhere near this case," I say firmly. "The shooter's a freaking psycho. Let the cops deal with it."

I say my goodbyes and drive back home with Detective Willis on my tail the whole way. He waits until he sees me walk up the front steps, waves at me, and drives off.

Aunt Hepzibah is unusually nice to me when I get back to the house. I want to talk to her about what I'm going to do next, but she has an early dinner waiting for me, and she insists that I sit down and eat with her first.

Then she's uncharacteristically interested in making conversation, asking me about how I passed my time in New York and who I saw when I was in town today.

When we're done eating, I wait for her to breathe and start speaking quickly. "Aunt Hepzibah, I can't stay here anymore. I don't know if the person following us was the guy from New York, but I can't take that chance. If it is him, I'm putting you and everyone else here in danger. I could have gotten Callie killed today."

"Perhaps you should offer Mae a ride next," she says tartly.

"Aunt Hepzibah!" I shake my head disapprovingly. "We do not murder our romantic rivals."

"You don't," she says primly, patting her lips with her napkin.

I look at her narrow-eyed, and she just smiles. "Are you trying to remember all the missing person's cases involving women from the last sixty years or so?"

"Maybe," I say cautiously.

She sets her napkin down and blinks innocently. "You Mulberry Acres Harkwells are so paranoid. I can't say I'm particularly worried about the Abernathys, but I agree that it's not safe for you here. I've hired you a bodyguard, and he will take you somewhere safe where you can lie low until this person is caught."

"A bodyguard?" I screech. "No way! That would cost a fortune. I can't let you do that."

"I'm richer than dirt and can't take it with me." She picks up her linen napkin and pats her lips delicately. "Anyway, I already paid him, and it's non-refundable. He's very dedicated to his job and doesn't seem like the type who'll take no for an answer."

That is a very strange thing for her to say. And why does she have an amused gleam in her eyes when we're talking about something so serious?

Then my heart sinks. It can't be. She wouldn't.

She did. That's why she insisted we sit down and eat dinner. She was stalling until he could get here.

The door opens, and in strolls Crash, grinning from ear to ear. He's wearing his cut with club patches, jeans, and boots, in my aunt's ornate dining room full of antique furniture and sterling silver. He looks like a bull in a china shop.

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