Page 57 of Beautiful Ruins
Scout.
Was he following me? That sonofabitch . . .
His attempt at being stealthy left much to be desired. It would have been laughable if it wasn’t so goddamn frustrating. I knew exactly who had sent him.
Rowan. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he?
The alley between the buildings was quiet, except for the low hum of an idling engine. It was easy to believe you were alone in this town, even surrounded by people.
I stormed in Scout’s direction, my boots echoing againstthe pavement. “Scout?” I called, squinting as the sun flared off the chrome of his bike, blinding me for the briefest of seconds.
A long pause. I knew he could hear me from his little hiding spot beside the building. Maybe he thought if he stayed quiet long enough, I’d give up and leave. Not likely.
Seconds passed, and then he finally stepped out. “Oh, hi Sadie, fancy seeing you here.” He winced, rubbing the back of his neck.
That adorable thing he was doing with his eyes didn’t work on me. Instead, he looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I didn’t buy his bullshit for a second.
I smacked his upper arm with the back of my hand, hard enough to leave a red mark. “Don't play dumb with me, Jesse. Why are you following me?” Thought I’d hit him with his given name. That often pulled me into line as a child.
He didn’t answer me right away, just looked past me like he half-expected Rowan himself to be standing there, ready to chew him out for giving himself away. His shoulders sagged, admitting defeat, and he exhaled loudly.
“Rowan thought it would be a good idea . . . you know, considering,” he muttered, not quite meeting my eyes.
Did he now? Did Rowan think he could just infiltrate my life, and I wouldn’t do a thing about it? He’d kissed me like I was the only girl in the world, and now he was playing puppet master. What an arrogant prick. And I’d thought we’d had a moment the previous night. Silly Sadie, always trusting those golden eyes like they were the damn sun, and I needed them to survive.
Frustrating didn’t even touch the sides of what Rowan was. Scout was just as bad, loyal to a fault, doing exactly as he was told. Maybe he thought pleasing Rowan was the only thing that kept him tethered. Although, I did feel bad for him. Itwasn’t him I was furious at. He was just the one standing in front of me. Right place, wrong time.
“Right.” I turned on my heel and made a beeline for my car. “Where is he?” I called over my shoulder, not even pausing for Scout to answer. “The clubhouse?” Even as the question fell from my lips, I already knew my answer.
And Scout’s silence confirmed it.
Chapter Eighteen
ROWAN
Bear sat across from me in the cracked leather chair, the scent of oil and our now-cold coffees clinging to the air like regret. Scout was on Sadie duty, updating me every half hour. I hadn’t heard from him in a bit, but I had to trust he’d keep Sadie safe. Otherwise, I’d skin him alive myself.
Bear and I had been going over the details of what we’d uncovered the previous night, trading guesses over which Riders the Mayor had been working with. Iron, likely. Snake, too. He’d been around a little longer than me, hence his animosity towards me over being voted Vice President.
I had my suspicions about what went down back then. But no-one had breathed a word about Watson or those properties. Not until now. A few abandoned houses weren’t much to go on, but it was enough to keep itching at me. And it was enough that Sadie’s mum might have lost her life over it. Did the chief have any idea that someone had potentially murdered his wife over some fucking grass?
I hadn’t bought the car accident bullshit for a second. But what had I known at twenty? All I could think about backthen was how I was finally going to ask Sadie out. I suppose not much had changed—she was still doing my fucking head in.
My phone vibrated on the desk, buzzing against the pile of papers, breaking the silence. Bear glanced up from his own phone, raising an eyebrow like he thought I already knew who’d messaged me. I was no fucking psychic. If I was, I might have been able to read Sadie’s mind and how she felt about the previous night when she’d broken down in my arms. She didn’t react to Logan’s messages in the way I’d imagined she would have, either. That calmness? Unnerving as hell.
But that was for another conversation, perhaps.
I snatched the phone up, my pulse spiking.
Unknown: If you want to know who torched the club bikes, meet me out at Hollow Creek Farm. Tonight 6 p.m. Come to the back entrance by the creek.
Just like that, the words locked me in place, strapping me to the seat with sheer force. Bear’s stare darkened, and he tilted his head. I ignored him, keeping my focus on the unknown number as I attempted to read between the lines.
Messages like this didn’t just fall in our laps. At least not in this line of work. Most of the time we had to pull teeth—literally—to get any answers worth their weight. It seemed too good to be true. And that meant it likely was.
Seconds passed, maybe minutes, the air buzzing with thick nothingness.
Bear cleared his throat, finally gaining my attention. “What is it?” Reluctantly, I reached over the desk and handed him the phone. His frown deepened as he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “Right,” he said, placing the phone back on the desk. “Smells funky. You want to bite?”
