Page 5 of Ride or Dies

Damn. She always was hot when she was pissed off.

Still, I couldn’t waste my time trying to calm her down. We had club business to take care of. “Looks like we gotta go. Think you can handle being around common folk without a buffer, princess?”

“Princess?” Her eyes narrowed into a wicked glare.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you won’t have to get those delicate hands dirty,” Mason said with a grin and a wink. “Though if you feel like it later, I’m glad to help you get real dirty.”

“Fuck you, Mason,” she snapped.

“Just name the time and place, sweetheart,” he called over his shoulder as he walked after Levi.

As I followed them out of the bar, the only thing I could think was: What the hell is the president of the Black Cobras doing at his rival’s clubhouse?

Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Chapter Three

Evie

As I waited for Jenna and Isabel to finish loading up the last of Isabel’s gifts, I plugged their address into my GPS and tried not to be hurt that my mom hadn’t texted to ask if I’d made it back to Bedford safely. It wasn’t like she’d ever checked up on me before. I didn’t know why I thought it might be different this time. Then again, the entire reason I was staying with Jenna and Isabel, instead of at the house I’d bought for Mom, was because I knew things weren’t different.

She’d been on her way to becoming a full-blown alcoholic before she even got pregnant with me. Hell, her blackouts were the reason she gave for not knowing who my father was, and I’d never had any reason to doubt it. She dropped out of school to have me and spent most of that time drinking. I’d heard more than once that I was lucky I didn’t have issues because of it.

Well, physical issues anyway. The emotional baggage was a little harder to see.

Jenna headed for the road, and I followed. She and Isabel had bought a house not too far from where Jenna grew up, so the first part of this trip was familiar. Honestly, I probably could’ve figured it out from the address alone, but between seeing the Bradshaw brothers again, making small talk with people who either barely remembered me from before or who only knew me as a singer, and not a single word from my mom, I wasn’t in any sort of headspace to rely on my teenage memories.

I didn’t know why I was so focused on Mom not reaching out. Sure, I told her I was coming home to help Jenna with her wedding now that the date had been moved up, but her only response had been to ask if it was because Jenna was knocked up.

I hadn’t bothered reminding her that Jenna’s fiancée was a woman. I’d been impressed that she actually remembered my best friend’s name.

And I was a little hurt that she hadn’t even asked if I planned on staying with her. I didn’t know if it was because she assumed I’d prefer to be with Jenna, or if she just didn’t want me around, and I wasn’t enough of a masochist to ask.

As we turned off of Main Street, headlights flashed in my rearview mirror, nearly blinding me.

“Turn your brights off, asshole,” I muttered as I flipped my mirror to keep the reflection off my face. I always said I could find my way around Bedford with my eyes closed, but I really didn’t want to test that theory.

We turned onto another side street, and a glance in my side mirror showed the car was still behind me with its high beams on. Shaking my head, I slowed and flipped on my turn signal. Behind me, the car did the same.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I tried to push away the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“It’s just someone else driving home after a late shift or being out with friends,” I told myself.

That was the logical answer as to why the car kept following me through the maze of streets that made up the residential part of Bedford. And the fact that they waited until I flicked on my turn signal to use theirs was just coincidence.

It had to be.

Because the alternative was something I really didn’t want to think about.

Besides, it’d been a long day. Driving for hours, seeing the Bradshaw brothers again—and the roller coaster of emotions that always stirred up in me—and then smiling and pretending like everything was great while making small talk with people who either gushed over me or made it clear that they’d only ever see me as the trailer trash offspring of a drunk.

Damn. That was a lot to unpack all at once.

“That’s all this is,” I said out loud. “Leftover shit from Nashville, combined with fatigue.” After a moment, I reluctantly added, “And hormones from seeing how the guys somehow ended up hotter than the last time I saw them. Which is totally unfair.”

Except when I didn’t use my turn signal, the person behind me didn’t either, and they still followed me onto Jenna’s street.

Shit.

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