Page 104 of Savage Daddies

25

ZOE

I clutchmy hands around Bullwhip’s chest with everything I have, unsure if I’m holding on for dear life because he speeds like a maniac, or because I need emotional support and these bikers are the only ones who can give it to me.

Breath catches in my throat. I haven’t eaten a single thing today, but vomit still threatens to explode out of my mouth.

She can’t be dead.

My heart won’t be able to take it.

I glimpse Bullwhip in the rearview mirror, and we exchange a strange glance that suggests he still has something to hide. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s just nervous.

“It’ll be okay,” he assures me.

“I can’t believe he asked you to join him,”

He returns his eyes back to the road when I say that, so I do the same. A long stretch of it snakes up ahead, and we turn off a few moments later when a signpost signals us right into a nature reserve. It’s prettier than what I had in mind.

The calm before the storm.

Orange rock gives the place a nice scorched look. A lake in the middle of the reserve reflects the blue sky, giving it a glass-like appearance. All is still, and I can’t decide if this is a good thing or not.

“Keep going,” I say, noticing the motorcycle shift down a gear.

“It’s beautiful,” Poet says.

“We’re here for Fiona, not the view.”

Surprisingly, they don’t bite back at my snappy remark.

We roll downhill. A bird of prey arches overhead, its impressive wingspan shading the ground beneath. Wind whistles in my ear, and a ball of tumbleweed wheels past us.

Feels like we’re in a fucking western.

We descend to the lake and then roll to a stop.

Silence.

I look over my shoulder and see nothing. All I hear is my own thumping heart, and now it beats even faster in panic.

Where is she, if not here?

“It’s okay,” comforts Wrangler, activating the stand to park the bike. “She’ll be somewhere.”

“It’s pointless,” I say. “Everything’s a waste of time with him. Felix is always two steps ahead.”

Wind rattles through the planes again, rippling the water. A cluster of bare trees stand on the other side of the lake, branches blowing gently in the breeze.

The bird of prey swoops low over them.

Wrangler frowns. “There’s something over there.”

“What?” I ask.

A look at the boys suggests it’s not good.

“WHAT?”

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