Page 5 of Junkyard Dog (Lonesome Garage #3)

Chapter Five

I know the details because I snooped when JD stepped onto the front steps to take a phone call.

He said I could use the bathroom. I just took the scenic route.

Now we’re waiting for some of his friends to arrive to help us figure out what my next move is.

I already know what it should be, but JD has a bug up his ass about me leaving.

I don’t want to go, but it’s safest for everybody involved.

It doesn’t take long for a pair of motorcycles to rumble up the driveway.

The two men look virtually identical from the back until they take off their helmets.

The one called Duck has a head full of steely gray hair.

Picnic’s hair is darker, but his eyes are such a bright blue that I can’t concentrate on anything else.

They’re almost as pretty as JD’s brown ones.

Both of them are solid guys. Like JD, they haven’t lost any of their military fitness according to their muscular frames.

And all three of them are staring at me.

JD introduces them as his motorcycle club brothers. They fill his small living room. He guides me to the sofa and sits beside me, still holding my hand. I see Duck and Picnic share a look, but JD doesn’t notice. He squeezes my hand again. “What can you tell us about Abby Trask?” he asks.

“Abby Trask? That’s her name?” It sounds normal.

“We got the name and address attached to her plate. When did this start?”

“I’m sorry that I dragged you into this. Really, it’s not necessary. This is what lawyers are for.”

“I think it’s gone beyond that,” Duck says. “Tell us what’s happening.”

I sigh. “I don’t know what JD has shared.

I’m a romance writer. I’m a big enough fish in my romance pond to have a fan base.

I didn’t know the woman’s name. I just have an email and social media handle.

ILuvThisGuy69 appeared as a normal fan on my social media pages with the release of my third book, raving about the cover model.

I used the same guy on a book in my next related series and said it was the other hero’s twin brother.

That’s when the trouble started. She started emailing and messaging me asking for the model’s contact information.

My initial responses about using stock photos were met with rebukes and dismissals that I was trying to keep her man to myself.

I activated full social media blockage, but she kept coming.

A bookstore in Washington where I did a signing let me know that she had come in asking for me.

I decided to see if she’d cool it if I wasn’t around.

Hence my vacation to Lonesome. Apparently, it didn’t work. ”

This whole thing is ridiculous. I understand celebrity crushes.

But ILuvThisGuy69 is literally obsessed with my model.

I contacted my cover artist and the photographer who listed the photos for sale to warn them.

It turns out the model is from New Zealand, so he should be fine. I’m the only one suffering right now.

“This bitch is unhinged,” Picnic says.

They look at me. “I’m not arguing. I know she needs to be dealt with. I just want to know how she found me in Lonesome. I would have noticed if I was followed halfway across the country. I hope,” I add.

“I doubt you ignored a kidnapper van for two thousand miles,” Picnic says.

“A kidnapper van?” Oh my God!

“Shut up, Picnic. He means a white van with no windows.” JD puts his arm around my shoulders. Again, he misses the looks between them. “Did you tell anyone that you were coming here?”

“No. I posted that I was deep in my writing cave working on a new book. Nobody except the girls at the book club knew I was coming, and Romy asked them to keep it off social media until after the fact. ILuvThisGuy69 showed up here last night.”

Duck looks at Picnic. “Something on her car?”

“Maybe. Give me your keys,” Picnic says to me.

“Why?”

“We’ll check your car for a tracker. She might have slipped one under your bumper. We’ll go over it and if we find something, we’ll have a reason to talk to her.”

“Get Moritz on it,” JD adds.

“Who’s Moritz?”

“A friend with the state police.”

“Now we’re getting the police involved? Guys, just let me get home and I’ll take all this trouble off your hands.”

“I told you, Rhiannon. We’re going to take care of you.”

JD’s voice is so sincere and so comforting. His hand brushes my cheek and comes away wet. I didn’t even know I was crying. I guess that the constant looming shadow of my super-stalker has been heavier than I realized.

I fish my keys out of my purse and give them to JD. He and Picnic head outside to coordinate, leaving me with Duck. The biker with the “President” patch on his leather vest leans forward. “JD will take good care of you. But our boy has had a tough go of it. I think you already know that.”

I nod. “Violet gave me the broad strokes.”

“I don’t think you’re the type to take advantage. But if you are?—”

“I’m not,” I interrupt. “I like JD. I didn’t ask him to get involved.”

“It’s good that he is. For both of you. If you have any problems, let us know.

Me. Picnic. Tolk. What’s your phone number?

” I recite it. I immediately get a text, adding me to a group chat about an upcoming birthday barbecue for someone named Mason.

“Put your number in here, and the guys will give you their contact information.”

I hesitate, but not for long because I don’t think I have much time. “From everything Violet and Romy have said, JD is the strong, silent, loner type. Last night, Romy said he was different with me. Is he?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is that good?” I ask quietly.

“I think it’s the best thing that could happen to either of you,” Duck says.