Page 3 of Skid
Pursing my lips, I gave him a quick nod. “Something happened to that sweet little girl. It was either him or something else, but there must be a reason her life went from what looked to be happy to solemn. Then she disappeared into thin air, and no one gave a damn. If I’m wrong, then I’ll be content knowing his sickness didn’t touch another young girl.”
“What are you going to do once you find her?” he asked, leaning his forearms onto the table. “If she’s like my sister, she’s going to have a false protective shell around her, telling everyone she’s happy when deep down inside, she’s miserable and haunted.”
“I saw the look in Aubrey’s eyes the night she and Hayden got together, and I’ve seen it in my sister’s since I was eight. It’s something that can’t be hidden behind a false smile.” My response was gruff, but it wasn’t directed at him.
It was directed at piece of shit men who forced themselves onto women and girls. I wasn’t a saint when it came to women, but consent was always required. Too much alcohol was a deal-breaker, along with drugs, tears, or any outward sign she wasn’t digging what was happening. I’d fuck a willing woman until she couldn’t walk straight, and I had, many times, but I would never take advantage or force myself on anyone who didn’t want me.
James left shortly after we spoke, and I watched the sun rise through the trees. My mind drifted to the beautiful woman I’d spent six months searching for, and I debated on just letting the past stay buried, fearful I would rip the scabs off old wounds.
I should leave her alone, but I’m not going to. I knew, no matter what, I was going to protect this woman. She’s been alone in the world for too long, and I prayed that I could at least give her the peace of mind that someone in the world cared about what happened to her.
After I spoke with Gunner, I packed a few changes of clothes and climbed on my bike. The trip to Alabama would give me a chance to clear my head before I found Grace. The last thing I wanted to do was cause her any more pain.
Chapter 2
Skid
For three weeks, Ifrequented a bar on the backwaters of Alabama, sweating my ass off, swatting mosquitos the size of a dinner plate, and trying to catch glimpses of Grace. After arriving in town and securing a trailer to rent for a few months, I set out to find her but was taken aback when I discovered she was slinging drinks at a bar tucked against the river, hiding in plain sight.
She always had a smile on her beautiful face as she served the patrons, a mix of military, bikers, locals, and the occasional tourist looking for trouble. I kept my back to the wall when I was here, not knowing who was going to take a swing at whom next. The bar wasn’t a dive, but it was far from upscale. Sawdust on the floor, smoke lingering in the air, the smell of stale beer and cheap whiskey overpowered the room, and a band playing classic rock covers too loudly gave it a unique vibe.
My usual waitress walked up to the small table, leaning over and giving me a clear shot of her thick cleavage as she shouted over the band, “Do you want another, or is there something else you want?”
Her dull brown eyes ran up my chest before tracking to my eyes. She licked her lips and raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her face. She wasn’t unattractive, but I wasn’t in the mood for a random hook-up.
“Another whiskey.” I swallowed the last measure in my glass and went to place it on the table.
She took the glass from my hand and let her red painted nail run across my fingers. I pulled my hand back and leaned into the chair, crossing my arms over my chest and looking her directly in the eyes. “Not going to happen, darlin’. Save yourself the trouble.”
She stood straight, her face twisted into a scowl as she turned and walked away. I could see her lips moving, but the patrons and band made her words inaudible. Sighing, I turned my eyes back to Grace, who was pulling another beer from the cooler with a pep in her step. She smiled as a tall man slid money across the bar to her, then she quickly turned her attention to another person wanting a drink.
He looked crestfallen as he turned away from the bar with his beer and made his way to the table filled with his friends. He sat down, and they started loudly ripping into him while one of them pocketed a few dollar bills from the table with a raucous laugh. They looked to be in college, and from their clothes, I’d say they’re fraternity assholes who were drinking away their parents’ money. I’d seen them in Knoxville for years when the Death Hounds would go on poker runs.
They were used to getting what they wanted, and most of them loved to look down on people of lesser monetary status. It pissed me off seeing them ogling Grace. My fists clenched as they slapped more money on the table and a different asshole stood to approach the bar. He smirked over his shoulder to the table before stepping up to the bar and leaning over, invading Grace’s personal space.
She was around five-foot-three and petite, so this asshole loomed over her like he was trying to climb over the bar and wrap himself around her. She lifted her head and tilted it to the side as he said something to her, then she smiled with a nod before putting her hand out for money. He handed it to her and turned away, sauntering to the table and lifting one finger to his douchey friends, encouraging them to remain calm.
