Page 7 of Kane

I nodded, taking the plate. “Got it. Thanks.”

I carried my food to an empty table by the window, my appetite fading. Around me, conversations had picked back up, but quieter now. The relaxed, easy vibe from earlier had been replaced by something heavier. As though everyone was pretending not to look at me while watching me all the same.

One thing was painfully clear.

Kane Beckett wasn’t just any man in this town.

He owned Crossbend.

My appetite dried up the second everyone inside the bakery had gone quiet. I tossed the half-eaten croissant in the trash on my way out.

The sidewalk outside felt hotter than before, or maybe that was just the burn of adrenaline still prickling under my skin. I wrapped my arms around myself as I wandered toward the small park near the end of the block, trying to gather my thoughts. I didn’t expect people to welcome my questions, but I didn’t think they’d shut me out completely either.

I was halfway to the park when I felt the eerie prickle on the back of my neck that told me I was being watched.

I slowed instinctively, like my brother taught me. My eyes scanned the street, the cars, the storefronts.

That’s when I saw him.

A man stood near the edge of the parking lot, leaning casually against a matte black motorcycle. He was tall and broad-shouldered, all muscle and menace. The leather vest he was wearing marked him as one of the Redline Kings. When he pushed off the bike and started walking toward me, I felt every hair on my arms rise.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t even speak until he was close enough that I could see the faint scar that split his right eyebrow.

“You Savannah Quincy?”

I blinked. “Who’s asking?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s not a smart question.”

“I figured if people are gonna stalk me around town, I should at least get a name.” My gaze dropped to his leather vest. “I guess I’ll just have to go with calling you Tail Gunner in my head instead.”

He didn’t rise to the bait, just took a step closer. “Word travels fast in Crossbend. So let me make this simple. You needto stop asking questions about Kane Beckett and the Redline Kings.”

I stiffened. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Pokin’ around in our business sure as fuck isn’t right.”

My stomach dropped, but I kept my chin high. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m warning you.” His tone stayed calm, almost casual. “You’re new around here. Maybe you don’t understand how things work. Questions like yours get noticed. And not in a good way.”

He turned and walked off without another word, swinging a leg over the bike and firing up the engine with a growl that I felt in my bones.

I stood frozen on the sidewalk long after he was gone.

He hadn’t raised his voice or laid a hand on me.

But it was the clearest threat I’d ever received in my life.

I sat on a bench near the edge of the park, staring at the cracked pavement under my feet while the sound of that motorcycle faded into the distance.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew it would be safer to go back home to Wedgewood and never come back.

My hands were still shaking. My stomach was in knots.

It didn’t change anything, though.