Page 40 of Coach
Running water.
My spine steeled.
My fingers tightened on the gun, pointer sliding toward the trigger.
I’d locked the chickens up not long before, dumping and refilling their coop water before I did so. I had a vivid memory of twisting off the tap.
The water hadn’t been on.
But it was now.
I inched around the building, careful of where my feet were landing, deep breathing to keep the adrenaline from overtaking me.
It was hard to see thanks to a spotlight that must have blown out. But in the darkness, I could just barely make out a crouched figure down on the ground near the garden hose.
“Don’t move,” I said as I snuck up on him, pressing the barrel of the gun to the back of the guy’s head.
“Fuck,” he sighed, head falling forward, shoulders slumping. “It’s just water, man.”
As he said it, I glanced over his shoulder, spotting the half a dozen water bottles he’d already filled up with hose water.
“Alright. And a few eggs. Fine. A dozen or so eggs.”
Well, I guess all the researching I’d been doing about why the hens hadn’t been laying had been a waste of time.
I’d been so worried about protecting the girls from wolves. I had no idea a human would be the one raiding their coops at night.
“I wouldn’t try it,” I advised, seeing the way his body tensed, likely ready to make a run for it. Or, more likely, try to fight it out. “Rafe.”
“Dammit,” Rafe sighed, shutting off the water. He slowly lifted his arms up to the sides, then got to his feet. “It was worth a try, though, wasn’t it?” he asked, shooting me a smirk over his shoulder.
“It ain’t over,” I said, grabbing the back of his shirt and leading him back around the building, then inside. “Get in,” I demanded when we got to a small door inside.
“Fine. Fine.”
He reached for the door handle, then pulled it open and stepped into the small storage closet that was makingmythroat feel tight with how small it was.
Rafe turned to me, gray eyes guarded.
He was just like he’d looked on the news: tall, on the thin side—though a week on the run had seemed to shave even more pounds off of him—with a sharp jaw, dark hair, and an old, nasty scar through his upper lip.
“Wait here.”
“Not like I got a choice,” he said as I closed and locked the door.
I was already reaching for my phone as I tucked my gun away.
“What is it?” Slash asked, sounding half asleep. “Need you at the clubhouse. Got a situation. I’m ending the party now.”
“On my way,” he said, already sounding awake.
Sucking in a deep breath, I walked over to the stereo system, cutting the music abruptly, making every eye in the building turn to me.
I caught Colter and Raff’s eyes first, and they knew me well enough to read the seriousness on my face. I looked at Saintnext, watching his chin lift, his shoulders stiffen. Then, finally, Syn.
“Party’s over for tonight,” I said. “Girls, Raff will order rides for you.”
“But we were—” the blonde started to object.
