Page 16 of Rolling Thunder

How things had changed.

“All right, dude, I’m gonna go catch some surf. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dan said as he collected necessary items from the house.

“Yeah, all right.” Evan grabbed the keys to his bike and headed out. He felt more hopeful about the show. They’d already selected a house on Matlacha to rebuild for its former owners.

He slowed down well before her farm. It was habit now, to go slow and quiet his motor at a safe distance from her horses. He’d passed her farm dozens of times and never seen her front gate standing open. She told him she kept it closed all the time in case a horse ever got loose, so they couldn’t get out into the road. She was a stickler about the safety of her horses. It stood wide open now, and his senses went on high alert. He slowed even more to glance down her driveway.

He caught just a glimpse of a ratty green El Camino parked haphazardly across her driveway near the barn, and the form of a man looming threateningly toward Kayla’s unmistakable silhouette. One thing about prison was that it taught a person to be able to read dangerous body language and respond in an instant. Something bad was about to happen to Kayla. He hit his back brake hard, counter steered while he banged it into first gear, twisted the grip, and broke the rear wheel loose. With a cloud of smoke, he swung the ass end of his bike around 180 degrees and let her fly back toward Kayla’s driveway.

He took the driveway too fast and the bike fishtailed, flinging rocks, but his eyes were on his target. He hit the back brake and skidded out to one side, coming to a scraping stop in front of the interloper’s truck.

He swung off with a rattle of the chains on his boots. Now that he had the guy’s attention, he could afford to take stock. He sized up the man. Rangy, hungry looking. Vaguely familiar. Bad to the core. His blood boiled at the thought of Kayla alone with this scumbag, and he could tell from a glance at her face that he wasn’t wrong. She looked pale, haunted, and was hugging herself as if she wished she could disappear.

Evan stood still as a statue, facing off with the interloper. If something didn’t defuse this quick, teeth were going to fly.

“Hey, Evan. I’m glad you dropped by. Your dog is in my barn again,” Kayla said with a dim smile. As if he were just a friendly neighbor.

His eyes narrowed on her. He knew he had just interrupted something ugly.

“Trent, this is my neighbor, Evan,” she said stiffly, not making eye contact with either of them. Trent squared off with Evan. Still time for teeth.

“The kind of neighbor who just drops by, huh?” Trent asked possessively, taking a step closer to Kayla.

“Only when his dog is missing,” she offered, as if trying to sound casual. As if trying to sound like they hadn’t been dating. Why the fuck would she do that? Was she two-timing him with this douchebag?

“Or when I see some motherfucker who looks like he’s about to get rough with her,” Evan interrupted in a low voice. The facade was gone. Trent’s eyebrows rose immediately.

“I don’t need your permission to do anything with her,” Trent retorted. Evan stepped up, putting himself between Trent and Kayla. The gesture was unmistakable, and Trent radiated fury. Trent was taller, but lean. Evan was built like a bull and no less likely to charge.

“Guys,” Kayla interjected, still hoping to avoid the inevitable fists. She started to step out from behind Evan, and his big hand stopped her like an iron vise.

“Why don’t you leave,” Evan said to Trent. Evan’s voice was calm, but his eyes were steely. She could almost imagine his fingers twitching over an imaginary six gun on his hip.

Trent looked momentarily like he was about to explode. Kayla knew that look far too well, and she shrank back. Instead, Trent smiled. This scared her more than his anger. It was a mean smile.

“Call me,” he said pointedly to her.

She didn’t respond. Her mouth was suddenly dry and not cooperating with her brain.

Trent turned to his El Camino, but paused just before getting in. Here came the catch. With Trent, there was always a catch. It was never really over. He turned back, tapping his temple with an index finger as if suddenly remembering something. It was an act of feigned casualness.

“Hey, don’t I know you?” he asked, pointing a finger at Evan. “Wasn’t we in Dade County lockup together? You beat the shit out of some biker and got put on lockdown.”

“Must have one of those faces,” Evan said, deadpan, cold as ice.

Trent nodded a little.

“Yeah… I know you. Who could forget that mad-dog stare…” He cocked his head back, talking around Evan now. “Enjoy your ex-con flavor-of-the-week, Kayla. Call me.”

He slammed his truck door, and the truck rumbled at a maddeningly casual pace around the circular loop of Kayla’s driveway, designed for ease of use with horse trailers in tow. The center of the loop was a jungle of mismatched but beautiful flowers. Trent and his truck were a rude blemish against the backdrop. And then, at last, he was gone.

She let out a shaky breath.

“Thanks. Sorry. I?—”

He turned around and pinned her with his gaze. She stood frozen before him. Was this the next catch? Evan had just run off another man from her property. Was she about to meet the dark side of him?

“Who the fuck is that guy? Your ex-boyfriend?”

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