Page 61 of Beautiful Ruins
I sniffed and tucked the envelope into my desk drawer. “Yep.”
I’d been hanging on to that old beast for way too long. It had to go. There was no point it sitting in my garage taking up space and gathering the kind of dust you couldn’t just wipe away. The goddamn thing was practically part of who I was. Of how I’d gotten to where I was. But I couldn’t hold on to the memories of the father I knew before the alcohol, drugs, and the club took over his personality and turned him into a spineless creature. The man who used to teach me how to ride could barely look me in the eye at the end. That version of him didn’t deserve the bike.
Besides, ghosts had no need for material possessions.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and dropped back into my chair, the leather squeaking beneath me. “I’m in way over my head here.”
The ceiling fan above us spun lazily, failing to cut through the heat Sadie had left me to sufferin.
“Want me to pull Scout off Sadie duty for a couple of hours?” Bear said, a small smirk on his lips.
It was bad enough Sadie had chewed me out earlier. Now I had to deal with this arsehole’s humour. I stared at him, considering everything. The dangers. The risks. The web of shit we were tangled in.
Pulling out a cigarette, I nodded as I lit the end. “We’ll go together. Don’t want to get caught out in the cold. Tell him to be here by five.”
Bear gave me a single nod and headed toward the door, his boots thudding on the wooden floorboards underneath the thin carpet.
Everything was piling up, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep from drowning under the weight of it all. Still, I had hope that I could at least get to the bottom of who was stupid enough to steal Ridge Riders’ property.
Chapter Nineteen
ROWAN
We took the van instead of the bikes. It was less of a risk, especially if things went downhill.
“It’s more anonymous,” Bear had said earlier as we hashed out the game plan. “Easier to get away, too.”
At least we agreed on that front.
Still, it didn’t feel right, being out there without two wheels under me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about this whole thing clawed at me.
Cryptic messages like that didn’t just fall into our laps without reason. And again, Hollow Creek Farm seemed to be in the centre of the shit pile, its stench souring everything else around it. It was Barrenridge’s very own Bermuda Triangle, a black hole that was growing deeper and darker by the minute.
We pulled up on the side of the dirt drive where the old entrance to the creek backed onto the Timberflat property. A crow squawked in the distance, then went silent too fast. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving enough of an orange glow to outline the remnants of the abandonedbuildings—a sagging barn, now boarded up, graffiti sprayed across the walls, and two empty sheds, all surrounded by a backdrop of bushland and the eerie quiet.
Something about the silence, the stillness, reminded me of the few seconds right before a bar fight breaks out—too quiet, too calm. Like the world was sucking in a breath and just waiting to release hell.
From our vantage point, the land rose in a slight slope, meaning anyone who approached through the bush had to walk a hundred metres in the open. There was nowhere for anyone to hide.
I tapped my lighter against my thigh. Once. Twice. Flipped it over. Another tap. Once more for good measure. Bear cracked his knuckles one at a time.
We stayed in the van, waiting—for movement, for a sign, for this whole damn thing to make sense.The sky went from orange to midnight blue in a matter of minutes. The engine ticked as it cooled, and the evening air slid in through the van’s open windows, crawling over my skin like tiny spiders.
Some part of me knew we shouldn’t have been there. But we’d already stepped over the line, and I wasn’t the kind of man who turned back. I threw a quick glance over at Bear, who was scanning the place, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He had that look about him, the one that told me he didn’t like any of this either. But neither of us spoke. We just kept watching.
“You sure this is the spot?” Scout said, shifting further forward, his head popping out between the seats. He chewed the inside of his cheek, fidgeting with his vest.
“This is it,” Bear muttered, cracking his knuckles louder this time. “Wish this prick would hurry the hell up.”
Right on cue, a single light flickered into view,weaving in and out, disappearing behind the trees then reappearing. Our would-be informant had finally decided to show. Relief mingled with suspicion as it moved towards us.
I lifted my chin toward the light as it got closer. “We have company.”
Bear managed a low grunt in acknowledgement, his large body going rigid. Scout shifted in the back, craning his neck to get a better look. None of us made a move to climb out, not yet. No point jumping the gun. Could have been anyone out there.
My fingers wrapped around my lighter. Was the risk going to be worth it? The whole place reeked of dangerous energy, much like the lingering scent of a decaying animal nearby. No frogs. No crickets. The kind of quiet that made you wonder if something had already died. And no-one had found the body yet.
The light flashed on the van’s windshield, blinding me for a moment now that everything else outside had gone dark as hell. And in this town, streetlights were a luxury. Out here, in the sticks, some folks still relied on kerosene lamps just to save on the power bill. It was old school, way behind most places, but that’s what you got when you didn’t stray too far from the small town you were born in. Couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks, and most didn’t care to learn.
