Hellion (Southern Rebels MC)

“Like a campground?” She questioned, the sarcasm unmistakable. “No. Not unless there’s a parking lot that will let me boondock.” She shot me a curious glance. “Federal lands around here?”

I shook my head, tightening the last nut as I debated my next words. “There’s only one place in town I know of that will let you park your rig overnight, but it’s next to a biker bar.”

“Friendly has a biker bar?” She crossed her arms over her chest, one eyebrow arched, and I had the strangest sense of déjà vu looking at her. “Sounds like that would break some kind of small town law.”

I snorted, pushing up to my full height. “According to my uncle, it should, but it’s still a free country and they pay taxes.”

She pressed her lips together. “Touchy subject. Got it.”

I glanced down. “It’s not.” I tilted my head. “Well, it is, but it’s just my uncle.”

“What? Is he the mayor or something?”

“Chief of police,” I sighed and her eyes widened.

“You mooned your uncle?” She gasped, staring at me.

“What?” I shook my head. “No,” I said adamantly. “The Chief of Police was my grandfather when I mooned him and I wasn’t trying to moon him.” She stared at me open mouthed and I threw up my hands. “Clearly, the gossip didn’t have the whole story.”

She nodded. “It usually doesn’t, but I feel like I need to hear this.”

“It was a dare.”

“I would hope so.”

A smile tugged at my lips as I paused, waiting to see if I could continue. She waved her hand and I took a breath. “That biker bar?” She nodded. “The leader, Johnny, was good friends with my grandpa. I was friends with the boys he raised. I was also younger than them and eager to prove myself.”

“You wanted to be a biker, didn’t you?” She guessed and I nodded, surprising myself. The fact that I had desperately wanted to be a Rebel was something I never admitted out loud. “That explains the motorcycle on the weekends.”

“Well, long story short. Wrong person came out and I mooned my grandpa, not Johnny.” She covered her mouth in an attempt to hide the grin threatening. “It’s alright. I can laugh about it now. At the time, I got twenty hours of community service.” I chuckled. “Gramps always said no one was above the law.”

“So that was the turning point? Gave up the biker dream and became a lawman?”

I looked down at my hands, rubbing at the grease absently. “I followed the family tradition.”

“But you’re living the dream on the weekends,” she remarked, nudging my arm and I glanced up, surprised she’d touched me. “It’s not all bad, right?”

“You haven’t met my uncle,” I muttered under my breath, but shook my head. “It’s not. I’ll never forget the day I took the oath, standing in front of my grandfather, and seeing how proud he was of me.”

“Sounds nice,” she murmured, her expression wistful, before she forced a smile. “So where is this biker bar?” She gestured to the RV. “I want to get the tire fixed and the rig parked before it’s too late.”

“The place is next to the bar and it’s a garage. The guy there, Crew, he can fix your tire,” I answered, wiping my hands on a towel she offered me. “I’ll give him a call, tell him you’re coming.”

“That would be awfully friendly of you.” My mouth curved upwards, but I only nodded. “I guess they were right.” I arched an eyebrow questioningly. “You are one of the good ones, March.”

I closed my eyes. “Do me a favor?” She cocked her head. “Don’t mention the whole March thing to Crew or anyone who looks like him.”

“Now I’m curious. How many people look like Crew?”

“At least five,” I replied, tossing the towel to her. “And I will never live it down.”

She eyed me for a solid minute before nodding. “I guess I owe you that much. I really didn’t want to change that tire.”

My phone started to ring and I glanced at the screen. “Speak of the devil and damned if he don’t call.” Crew’s name flashed on the screen and I nodded to her. “Let me take this and let him know.”

“Okay,” she replied, stepping back to give me a semblance of privacy.

“I was just about to call you,” I answered the phone, but was quickly interrupted by Crew’s desperate voice.

“Noah, shit. It’s,” he choked up and I could hear him taking a deep breath. “Noah, it’s Ronnie.”

“What happened?” My chest tightened, already anticipating bad news. “Where are you?”

“Ronnie’s place. She’s dead and Kara….Kara’s missing.”

I looked up to see her looking at me curiously and I raised my finger, asking for a moment before I spun around, giving her my back. “Has it been called in?”

“No,” Crew answered tightly, his voice thick. “Sloan called us. We’re all here.”