The drive took me two days. Even that was probably impressive considering how many times I had to pull over and cry. Altogether, I made it through three states and four mountain passes nearly all the way to Ridley Falls before the car gave out. Steam leaked out from underneath the hood but more concerning was the thump-thump-thumping of something that went along with it. I’d ignored the noise for the last hour, but there’d been one last loud thump and then the engine had died. I barely managed to pull over to the shoulder before the tires stopped coasting.

By then, according to the last sign I’d passed, I was five miles out from the town’s limits. The last car that passed was miles back, and in the fading light of dusk, the tree-lined road had a quiet sort of vibe that was comforting.

With no other choice, I stuffed the cash from the glove box into my bra, re-adjusted my sunglasses, and started walking.

It wasn’t long before the night sounds of insects surrounded me and my footsteps faded into the background until all I could hear were my own thoughts and the cricket’s song.

Images flashed in my mind as I followed the road. The memory of my father being shot. The way he’d transformed into some sort of demon beast.

I might have begun to believe I imagined that part if Vorack and his men hadn’t fled the way they did.

A few tears slid down my cheeks as the loss hit me square in my chest. A hollowed-out hole formed where once there had been love, safety, security. My father had been paranoid, terrified, and erratic, but he’d been mine. And now he is gone. And I was alone. Surviving was all on me now.

Inevitably, my thoughts drifted to the bookie. Vorack. He’d promised to be back, and I had zero doubt he meant it. Ten thousand plus interest. I’d been in my father’s toxic world long enough to know it would take twice that to get those assholes off my back, and even then, they could just as easily kill me as let me walk away.

A cool breeze whispered through the trees and down my spine, making me shudder. Suddenly, I was keenly aware of how quiet it had become. No more night sounds. No more anything. Just…stillness.

The feeling of eyes on me scraped along the back of my neck.

When I turned to look, there was no one there.

I forced myself to keep moving.

Steady pace.

No running or I’d only attract whatever predator was out here. Absently, I clutched at the pendant I wore. My last promise to my father. I wasn’t about to take it off, no matter how much shit he’d put me through.

I still wasn’t ready to accept he was really gone.

Or that this Oscar guy I was headed toward was my only family left.

Although, whatever awaited me in Ridley Falls had to be better than my life leading up to this. That’s what I told myself as I forced one foot in front of the other.

The feeling of being watched never went away, but soon, lights from town came into view, and I relaxed. If someone or something was going to try and hurt me, they wouldn’t wait until I’d stroll into public to do it.

The first building I came to was a gas station.

Pushing my way inside, I approached the clerk and waited for him to notice me. The kid couldn’t have been older than sixteen and was just beginning to sprout that first attempt of facial hair.

It didn’t take long for him to finish stocking the cigarettes and turn around. When he did, he stopped and stared, eyes wide.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Um.” I glanced down and realized I still wore the same clothes sweatpants and an oversized tee covered in blood. Shit. At least I still had my sunglasses on. “I’m looking for an Oscar.”

“Oscar Lawson?”

Weird. My last name was Langford. Shouldn’t they have the same name? I didn’t have the energy to decipher it though.

“Is there another Oscar in this town?” I asked.

“Well, no,” he said after a pause, still staring at my face like he’d never seen a chick with a swollen cheek before.

I rolled my eyes. Or tried to. It hurt. “Okay, so Oscar Lawson…” I prompted when he didn’t say more.

“Right. Yeah, uh, he’s over at the shop.”

“What shop is that?”

“Oh, uh.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as if clearing the image of, well, me. Damn. I must have looked like a hot mess. “Twisted Throttle Repair Shop. Next block up on the left. Can’t miss it. Just look for all the bikes.”

“Thanks.”

I turned to go, and even without looking back, I had zero doubt the kid stared at me all the way out of the parking lot.

Despite the kid’s instructions, I did, in fact, almost miss it thanks to what looked like some kind of tailgate party parked nearby that blocked my view. I ignored the catcalls from both men and women and kept my head down and my sunglasses on despite the twilight hour. The smell of cigarettes and marijuana drifted toward me. Music blared from someone’s stereo and a few girls in short skirts stood on the hood of a Jeep, writhing to the beat. Making a wide arc around the dance party, I strode past a couple making out in the bed of a pickup truck and a pyramid of beer cans poised on the hood of a Camaro.

Damn. For a Monday in a small town, this place was pretty wild.

Maybe it was a town holiday or something?

Just ahead, I finally spotted my destination.

Twisted Throttle had an aging sign hanging above a two-story building on the corner that looked old enough to be historic but was still well kept from the looks of it. And yes, there were bikes.

Except they weren’t bicycles like I’d expected.

Motorcycles were parked along the curb lining the front and side of the corner lot. At least eight that I saw. With more in the back, I noticed, from my quick view of a paved lot enclosed by a chain-link fence.

A set of two large garage doors faced the side street and were currently closed up tight. On my left, the side street dead-ended into thick woods that encroached on the side and back of the building. It made the place feel secluded despite sitting on the very edge of what looked like a quaint little downtown area just past the shop. Even from here, I could smell the pine scent of the forest wafting out to welcome me.

I looked away from the call of the trees to the shop’s front door and approached slowly. My exhaustion and the shock of everything that had happened muted my fear, but I knew enough to be watchful of my surroundings. A threat could be lurking anywhere.

The sign in the office window read Closed, but I grabbed the knob anyway.

Unlocked.

I pushed my way inside and inhaled the smell of oil and engine grease.

Underneath all of that, the pine scent of the woods still lingered, and I appreciated the sense of comfort it brought even if I couldn’t understand it. I’d never felt comforted anywhere in my life.

Maybe it was because I’d finally stopped looking for demons and ghosts. Why should I keep worrying about being hunted down when my dad had turned out to be the beast we’d feared all along?

Absently, I reached down and brushed a hand over my right hip to be sure my shirt and pants covered the skin there. Habit. Then I plucked my sunglasses off and looked around.

“You lost?”

I looked up sharply at the sound of the voice. A guy not much older than me stood behind the counter, glaring at me. If I hadn’t noticed the hostile tone, it was plain on his face. A very handsome, very dangerous-looking face, I might add.

Wow.

Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, a chiseled jaw that probably always came across as slightly angry.

Except for right now when he looked downright enraged.

I couldn’t imagine the sight of me a complete stranger who’d never done anything to him had sent him into a rage, but who knew. It had been a long day, and I knew my mind was still a fog after everything that had happened.

“I’m looking for Oscar,” I said.

The hottie rounded the counter, and I could see his angry response right there on the tip of his tongue. But then he must have gotten a good look at me, coated in two-day-old dried blood and probably bruised to a pretty shade of purple by now, and his eyes widened only for a second before they immediately narrowed.

“What the hell do you want with Oscar?”

The energy coming off this guy was intense and threatened to break through the numbness that was keeping me calm.

“I just need to talk to him.”

My voice wobbled.

Of course it did.

His mouth flattened into a hard line. “I can give him the message.”

For some reason, his continued hostility made me braver. Rather than shrinking away, I straightened and held my ground. “No thanks, this is personal.”

The guy snorted. “Oscar doesn’t concern himself with outsiders.”

The way he said the word spoke volumes. Like being from out of town was a crime in itself.

“If that’s true, he can tell me himself. Is he here or not?”

The guy gave me a once-over as if assessing whether I was worthy or not. Whatever he saw must have been good enough because he finally leaned away and, without taking his eyes off my face, yelled, “Oscar! Get your ass in here.”

A second later, a muffled male voice came from out in the garage. “What?”

“Someone here to see you.”

“Take care of it, would ya? This piston is a real pain in my ass.”

“Nah, this one’s for you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Special delivery.” The angry hottie gave me a smug smile and crossed his arms, clearly content to wait for the show.

I rolled my eyes, aggravated and beginning to regret not eating all day. I hadn’t been able to conjure up an appetite before, but for some reason, this asshole was clearing my head and bringing me back to myself.

The side door opened, and a guy about my dad’s age walked in. He had salt and pepper coloring his dark hair, including his short beard, but his face was somehow still youthful. Maybe it was the hard set of his features or the sinewy arms that looked like they picked up more than just a bottle every night. But something about him seemed young and able despite the age his gray hair implied.

“What the hell is it?” he demanded of the asshole who looked like he was about to swallow his teeth with that smug ass smile.

Without a word, the jerk gestured to me.

“Who are you?” the older man grunted at me.

“Are you Oscar?” I asked, some of my bravado fading at the grumpy way he eyed me.

“Maybe. Who the hell wants to know?” he demanded.

His eyes cut the length of me, but he didn’t react to the blood like the others had. I had to wonder how much of this sort of thing he’d seen in his life if it didn’t faze him anymore.

“My name is Ash. My father was Joseph Langford.” I paused, waiting for the recognition to register in his eyes.

But there was nothing.

“I believe he was your brother,” I added pointedly.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

Uncertainty rippled through me. For the first time since leaving my father’s body behind, I wondered if I’d made the right choice.

What if he’d been mistaken?

What if the pain and whatever monster had infected him had made him crazy? Of course, he didn’t have a brother. He would have told me.

“Did Cohen put you up to this?” the hottie suddenly demanded.

He gripped a shop rag in his clenched fist, and I shrank back at the animosity that rolled off him.

“Who’s Cohen?” I asked, my voice suddenly not nearly so confident as before.

“Don’t play with me,” he growled. “You can tell Cohen sending some doe-eyed little ragdoll in here isn’t going to ,”

“I don’t know any Cohen,” I said, shaking my head in frustration. Grief threatened to break me down. But my anger steadied me. I held onto that.

“Right. Just like that isn’t makeup all over your face. Give me a break.”

Fury swelled. He really thought I’d fake bruises like the ones currently making my head throb? I reached for my cell phone which was basically nothing but photo storage since I didn’t have service and pulled it out, sliding up and scrolling my photos until I found the one I wanted.

“Look,” I snapped, holding the phone up so Oscar could get a good look.

He blinked, his eyes glancing over the picture of my dad. It was from a couple of months back. He’d been sober, and we’d gone for a drive down to the lake and back. My throat closed up just remembering it and knowing it was our last good day together. Forever.

In fact, these photos were the only reason I’d bothered bringing the damned phone at all.

Oscar did a double-take, staring at the screen, a frown frozen on his angry expression.

“This is bull shit,” the other guy went on. He was still looking at me like he was about to grab me and toss me out on my ass at any moment. “Tell her, Oscar,” he added.

But Oscar hung his head and shook it slowly before waving him off. “Kai, you can go. I’ll finish up here.”

Kai.

The hot asshole was named Kai.

And Kai did not look happy with that order.

“Oz, you can’t be fucking serious ,”

“I mean it,” Oscar snapped, rounding on Kai and pinning him with a glare that would have made me shit a brick. “I got this. Now go.”

Kai cast me a look that made it clear he was only more pissed at being told to leave. Muttering to himself, he tossed the rag onto the counter with more force than necessary and then turned and stomped out through the side door. I could hear him slamming a few tools around in the garage, and then another door slammed, somewhere in the back.

A few seconds later, an engine revved to life.

Even then, Oscar didn’t say a word. Instead, he marched around the counter and opened something down low I couldn’t see. When he pulled his hand up, it held a beer.

“You want one?” he asked gruffly.

My stomach sank. I shook my head.

He uncapped it and held it out anyway. “You look like you need it as much as I do,” he said. “Maybe more.”

I shook my head again, bile rising. If this guy drank as much as my father, how was he supposed to help me? It felt like I’d just walked into another version of the life I’d left behind.

“I’m good,” I said.

Oscar shrugged and tipped it back, emptying half the contents before he came up for air again. Outside, the sound of an engine grew louder. Closer. I turned to see a black motorcycle rounding the corner from the back alley. The rider made the turn onto the main road way faster than he should have.

Even with the helmet he wore that obscured his face, I knew it was Kai.

He didn’t even look over as he sped away on two wheels.

I looked back at Oscar, unable to take the silence anymore.

“Are you going to say something?”

“My brother’s name was Caleb Lawson when I knew him.”

His voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of anger that kept me on edge, no matter how calm he appeared to me. Still, curiosity made it impossible to stay quiet.

“What do you mean ‘when you knew him?’”

He sighed. “I haven’t seen or heard from Caleb in twenty years.”

“Why not?”

“Good question. Guess you’d have to ask him.”

“Well, I can’t because he’s dead.”

I’d meant to say the words in a flat voice. Uncaring. Untouched by it. But it was the first time I’d said it out loud, and my voice cracked on the last word.

Oscar’s expression fell. For a split second, I saw the pain he carried at having lost his brother, not once but twice now. Then the neutral mask slid back into place.

His eyes zeroed in on my face knowingly. “That isn’t makeup you’re wearing, is it?”

“Why the hell would I fake getting the shit beat out of me?” I retorted.

He softened. Only by a few inches, but it was enough.

“What happened?”

I took a breath to steady myself, and before I knew what was happening, the truth was spilling out of me. Well, most of it anyway. There were secrets I would never utter, not for anyone. But this was close enough.

“My mom left when I was thirteen. After that, my dad became paranoid. We moved a lot, and he drank to cope, I guess. A couple of years ago, he started gambling. Stupid stuff. Card games. Betting. Problem was he couldn’t afford it. Last night, a bookie came to collect.”

“Is that who did this to you?”

I nodded.

Oscar didn’t respond.

My head throbbed, and my body felt like it had been hit by a truck. The last two days were catching up, and I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could handle before my body simply gave out on me.

“Why did you come here?”

My temper rose at the question. The challenge in it. It was clear he didn’t want me here. Which meant I would have to figure out my next move. And I’d have to do it without a car.

Shit.

“Before he died, Dad said to come find you. That you’d protect me.”

Ugh. Even saying the words felt embarrassing. I hated asking for a handout.

Oscar looked skeptical. Or maybe just confused. “From bookies?”

“I don’t know,” I shot back. “Dad was convinced there was someone after us. It’s why we moved so much.”

“Your dad was special,” Oscar said slowly, and something about it made me think of the beast he’d become right before…well, the end.

I didn’t answer.

“How’d you get here?”

I sighed, sick of the inquisition. “My car died a few miles back, so I walked the rest of the way in. Look, if you don’t want me here, fine. Just say the word, and I’ll go. But I’m not going to answer any more questions like I’m some sort of criminal or imposter. I just watched my dad get murdered in front of me, and before that he Ugh. Never mind. I’m out of here.”

I started for the door, my balance wavering thanks to the exhaustion and pain I’d finally begun to feel. But I refused to stop now. I could do this. I could get a job. Find a hole somewhere to sleep. A trailer or maybe rent a room. I’d worked since I was fourteen, so that wasn’t a deterrent. I didn’t mind the work. It was the being alone part that would suck.

My hand closed over the knob just as I heard the words, “Hold on.”

I stopped but didn’t turn back.

“I have an extra room upstairs. You can have it if you want.”

I turned slowly, half-convinced he was kidding.

“You’re letting me stay?” I asked.

“Did the bookies get their money?”

“No.”

“Do they know your name?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll stay.” He pushed off from the counter and headed through a swinging door that led toward the back. “Come on. I’ll show you the way up, and you can shower. I’ll call a tow truck for your car.”

“I – I don’t really have money for ,”

“Relax. Crater owes me a favor.” He turned back, eyeing me where I still stood by the exit. “You coming?”

I could have said no. Actually, a big part of me wanted to turn him down and waltz out of there. To prove I didn’t need some grouchy stranger of an uncle whom I didn’t even know existed before now. But the sad fact was that I did need him.

And a shower sounded way too good to pass up.

Not to mention a bed. It might even have a pillow.

“Yeah,” I said finally, “okay.”

Too tired and broken to argue, I followed him upstairs. To an apartment above the Twisted Throttle Motorcycle Repair Shop. My new home.