I step out of the car and feel the sun hit my face. I manage to take two steps out before I start shaking uncontrollably.
Just be strong and breathe, I tell myself. It’s never that easy. I have to repeat that mantra at least 100 times before it starts to have any effect on me.
I’m near the coffee shop, but caffeine is not what I need anymore. Anything that is bound to make me jittery is a huge no-go, right now.
I glance at the street sign up ahead. Right around the corner is the Silent Barn, and a drink sounds about perfect.
I walk around the corner and walk into the bar. There’s the same faces. Jeffco and Andy are talking quietly.
When the doors swing close, they turn and glance at me. I can tell I’ve interrupted them, and they’re not exactly happy about it.
“It’s Rowan’s girl,” Andy says, getting out of his seat.
Jeffco sets down a glass he had been cleaning, and starts pouring a whiskey coke. He slides it over to me when I sit down.
“Where’s Rowan at?” he asks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. It was sort of a rough night last night. I didn’t see him at his place this morning. Usually he’s outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee.”
“Let’s not bring up last night,” he says, eyes darting toward the door.
I nod and gulp down, feeling the terror slip into my body again. I down my drink and close my eyes for a brief moment, trying to get back to normal.
“Right, I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“No need to be sorry, doll,” he says. “But if you see him, tell him Jeffco wants to have a word with him.”
“Will do,” I say. “Weird thing is, this morning there was a package in front of his door. It was unmarked, except for his name scribbled on the front.”
Andy chimes in. “Unmarked? No address or nothing?”
“Nothing. It wasn’t even sealed either,” I remark.
They both look at one another. “How heavy was the package. Did you look inside?” Jeffco asks.
“I picked it up. I wanted to open it, but the whole thing kind of freaked me out. I dropped the package and ran,” I admit. “I’m still not doing all that well after…”
He nods, telling me he doesn’t need to hear anything more. “Andy, you mind watching this place for an hour, while I go check this out?” he asks.
“Shit, brother. You ain’t going without me. You get, what? Five customers per day? Just shut the place down for an hour. No one will give two shits about it,” he says, getting up.
He reaches to his side holster and yanks his gun out. He cocks it and places it back in, grimacing.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, dammit,” Jeffco says, shaking his head. “Fine. We’ll all go, you bastard.”
“Damn straight,” he says.
Together, we walk outside, and they jump on their bikes. “Hop on, honey.”
This is all so crazy.
Jeffco is older, maybe about forty-five or so. He’s out of shape, but he looks like he could destroy a tank with his bare hands.
I never noticed it with the dim lights of the bar, but he’s got scars all across his face and arms. It looks like a bear or something attacked him. It’s either that or he’s seen some very real shit. He doesn’t have to get his gun out to prove he’s a scary son of a bitch. You just know it by looking at him.
He motions for me to hop on again and I do so slowly, despite my fear of bikers right now. I feel the warm rumble of the bike and he revs the engine harder before we take off in a plume of dust and smoke. We peel around the corner and I hang onto his vest tight. The whole time I’m wondering, where the hell Rowan hid.
And then a horrible thought comes into my mind. Did they kill him?