Page 11 of Property of Scythe (Kings of Anarchy MC: Ohio #1)

I t feels like I’ve entered another dimension where fall is the only season and pumpkin-flavored everything dominates the menu.

I’ve always loved autumn, and now I’m living in a town where it celebrates all the best aspects almost year-round.

If only I didn’t have to stand in line to use the restroom.

After holding my full bladder for over thirty minutes, I finally find an open porta-potty, grateful for the hand sanitizer anchored on the outside and inside of all the toilets.

To my surprise, they’re stocked and clean.

The smell is unavoidable, but once you’re out in the fresh air again, it’s quickly forgotten.

My stomach rumbles as I head toward the bench where I’m supposed to wait for Scythe. He’s not there, but there’s another biker wearing a Kings of Anarchy vest. I scan it for his name, but I only find PROSPECT. “Hi. Where’s Scythe?”

“He said he’s got some shit, uh, stuff, to handle, so he’ll be back soon. We can do whatever you want while we wait.”

“Okay.” I frown, hoping everything is okay. “I’m starving. What can I find to eat? ”

He’s got to know better than me since this isn’t the first time he’s entered the Fear Farm.

“Well, there’s the popcorn vendor. Cotton candy. Hot dogs, corndogs, and fries. Oh, and BBQ.”

“The BBQ. Where is that?”

“I’ll show you.”

I follow the prospect as he winds through the crowd, locating the food vendors opposite the carnival games. No wonder I didn’t see them before now. We never walked this way before the hayride. “What’s your name? It’s weird just to call you a prospect.”

He snickers. “Yeah, not your vibe, huh?” He shrugs. “Until I have a road name and patch in, I’m nobody. But you can call me Chris since that’s the name my mother gave me.”

He’s cheeky. It’s cute.

“Okay, Chris. I’m going to order a lot of food because Scythe never fed me.” I wink as he laughs.

Once I have my order, we find a spot where I can sit and eat.

Chris leads me out of the Fear Farm, stating that the only place to sit down is probably the pavilion.

He isn’t kidding. The covered structure is massive, and I see it’s half full of other visitors who are having a snack or drinking hot cocoa.

I park my bottom and begin to eat, nearly moaning as I take a bite of the BBQ brisket. “Wow. This is amazing.”

“Scythe invites restaurants to take turns as vendors during the festival each year. The Smokestack is a local favorite.”

“I can see why. It’s juicy, tender, and flavorful.”

“Yeah. One of my favorites, too.”

“You want some?” I ask, shoving the food his way. “I’ll never finish it all.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Go for it. ”

As I chew on the best brisket sandwich I’ve ever had, I turn my attention to the cornfield.

It’s still spooky, especially after the other day when I knew someone was following me.

But in the dark? It’s absolutely terrifying.

People are lined up to enter the maze, which merges with the towering stalks of corn.

You can’t tell them apart, not from this direction or vantage point.

I’d have to get somewhere high to be able to tell and navigate through it.

I guess that’s the point. To draw out the experience so people feel they get their money’s worth. Me? I’m not going inside, not without Scythe.

“I wonder what’s taking so long,” I muse aloud, glancing at the entrance to Fear Farm and the ticket stand.

“Something probably broke down or there was an accident. It happens.”

He’s explaining it so effortlessly, I wonder if he’s telling me the truth. “You don’t know anything?”

Chris grins. “I’m just a prospect.”

Uh-huh.

It’s another ten minutes before I stand and decide I’m going to walk toward Mystic Emporium. I love that store, and it’ll kill time until Scythe finishes up what he’s doing. Besides, he has my number. It’s not like I’m going far.

“Tell Scythe if you see him that I’m heading to the Emporium. It’s a bit too spooky out here for me.” I’m kidding. Sort of.

Chris shakes his head. “I stay by your side. President’s orders.”

I almost sigh, but then I realize that Scythe is protecting me, and I need to be grateful. We don’t know what the person who followed me the other day wants. It might be nothing, and it could be something serious.

I try not to let the past influence the present.

Jerald Carter is in prison for what he did to me.

It’s not rational to live in fear when I know he can’t do anything to me from behind bars, but it’s hard to dismiss the idea that he can pay someone else to do it.

He’s crazy enough to find a way to make me pay.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice Scythe catching up to us. When he touches my shoulder, I screech and jump away from him.

“Damn, darlin’. You okay?”

Yes. No. Maybe? “I’m fine.”

“Get back to the shack, prospect,” he tells Chris.

“Right away.” He waves at me before trotting off to do his president’s bidding.

“Bye, Chris!” I shout after him.

Scythe curls his fingers around mine, stepping closer. “Hey, Lottie. Do me a favor. If anyone spooks you, seems suspicious, or tries to follow you, call me right away.”

“Anytime, day or night?” I tease.

He’s serious. There’s a caution in his eyes that’s new since he left me an hour ago. “The time doesn’t matter. Promise me. This is about your safety, Lottie.”

“Alright. I will.”

Satisfied, he steers me toward his bike. “I should get you back home. It’s been an eventful evening.”

I wonder if he’s going to say more about it as we walk. He doesn’t. His demeanor has changed. I know it’s not me. Still, it stings just a bit. All the warmth from earlier has vanished.

And the kiss? It’s a distant memory now.

IT’S BEEN NEARLY THREE days since I’ve heard from Scythe.

He hasn’t reached out to me or stopped by, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m being ghosted.

He’s been acting so into me that his distance and lack of communication feel intentional.

I’m probably overthinking it because I know it’s been a wild, chaotic weekend.

Raven’s Crest is bursting from the seams and overflowing with visitors.

Just this morning, I heard the local news reporter discussing that the Mayfield Inn didn’t have any vacancies.

And the Hanging Tree B&B also reached capacity.

Raven’s Crest was hosting record-breaking crowds.

License plates from all over the Midwest proved it.

Neighboring campgrounds had to turn RVs away because they didn’t have any campsites left.

I’m early for school, but I park and enter the building. Mark is already here, and he greets me as I pass his door. I notice a lot of the teachers arrive ahead of schedule, and I wonder if it’s to catch a few minutes of quiet before the start of the day.

It’s not until I see Mila rush into the room without her father that I realize he’s not coming. There’s a woman I’ve never met before lingering at the door. As I approach, she extends her hand.

“Hi, I’m Lottie Bishop. Mila’s teacher.” We shake briefly.

“I’m Emma. Mila is my niece.”

Oh. Damn. Is she related to Scythe or his ex?

“Scythe sends his apologies. He wanted me to let you know that I’ll be picking Mila up and dropping her off today.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Mila’s been talking about you every day since school started. She really loves your class.”

“That’s wonderful. She’s lovely.”

Emma leans forward, lowering her voice. “It’s been rough since my sister ran off with a trucker and abandoned these two. I do what I can, but it’s been hard.”

“I can’t imagine. You’re a good sister to help like that. ”

“I adore Mila. She’s the sweetest little girl. It’s good for her to have another woman to look up to after everything, you know?”

“Yes, I agree.”

“Well, I should run. I’ve got a paper to finish by noon. See you later, Lottie.”

I wave as she rushes from the doorway, and I wonder if there’s anything romantic between her and Scythe. She doesn’t seem to be territorial about him. Her conversation was more about Mila than her dad. I’m guessing they’re friends, and Scythe relies on her for help with his daughter.

I’m not going to pry since it’s not my business.

The morning speeds by as they do on most days, and I usher the class outside for recess. I’m lost in my thoughts, standing by the slide, when I feel Mila tug on my shirt.

“Ms. Bishop?”

I blink and look down. “Yes?”

“There’s a scary man watching you.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. That sentence, spoken so calmly by a little child, is unnerving. It takes a few seconds for me to compose myself enough to answer her. “Where?”

She points toward the empty soccer field that stretches to the fence. It’s only about the length of a football field from our location. The local YMCA uses this field as well as our school, so there’s a parking lot that you can access from the street.

I don’t want to look, but I know I have to see if Mila is right. The fact that I’m not as aware of my surroundings as I should be is cause for alarm. I have an obligation to keep these kids safe. I need to be focused.

I turn my head and see a man dressed in black standing still as he faces the fence. He’s on the parking lot side, but there’s something creepy about the way he doesn’t move. “You’re right,” I tell Mila. “I want you to run toward the school. Go inside the classroom and stay there. Promise me. ”

“Okay, Ms. Bishop.”

Mila listens, obeying me without hesitation. Maybe she senses the urgency in my voice or understands this isn’t normal behavior. Does she understand the concept of Stranger Danger?

The bell rings, and I hear the kids head back indoors, and still I stand, wondering what this stranger wants. His hood is pulled low over his face, and he’s wearing gloves. I won’t be able to provide any significant information about him to describe him to the police.

My first thought is that I should call the sheriff’s office. But I don’t. Instead, I dial Scythe’s number with trembling fingers.

“Lottie?” his voice is in my ear after only one ring.

“Scythe. I’m scared.”

I don’t know why that’s the first thing I say. It’s stupid. I should be describing the man who takes a few steps closer like he’s taunting me.

“Baby, I need you to tell me what’s happening. Are you and Mila safe?”

“Mila, yes. Me, no.” Shit. Saying that out loud almost makes me panic. I don’t want to run because I don’t know if this man has a weapon or will hop the fence and chase after me. I don’t want to draw him any closer to the school.

“Lottie, you can tell me. Describe the danger.”

I blink. “There’s a man wearing a dark hoodie staring at me. He’s standing at the fence opposite the playground.”

“Good. Keep going.”

I hear his bike engine start, and I know he’s heading this way.

“He’s just watching me. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m on my way. You keep talking to me, Lottie. Don’t hang up. Okay?”

This situation is giving me flashbacks of my attack. The fear. The uncertainty. Wondering if I’ll live through this or die a horribly painful death.

“I don’t want to die,” I whisper, hating how small and vulnerable I sound. It hits me that I can choose not to be a victim. I can stand my ground and refuse to show fear even if I’m terrified.

My chin lifts. I stay rooted in the spot, knowing help is on the way. The good thing about this town? It’s small and it doesn’t take long to reach any destination.

“Lottie, I won’t let that happen. I swear, baby.”

“You might not make it in time.”

I know. I’ve lived through it. Sometimes, the police arrive too late. That’s the horrible truth no one ever wants to think about.

“Fuck, Lottie. I’m almost there. Can you hear my bike?”

“He’s coming now,” I say as the man in the hoodie rushes forward, hops the fence, and pulls a knife from his pocket.

My knees buckle. I think I’m about to die.