Page 2 of Property of Scythe (Kings of Anarchy MC: Ohio #1)

“ H ow much farther do you have to go?”

“Not far,” I answer as I spot the sign for my exit. Just a few more miles. “I’m nearly there.”

After four days on the road, I’m ready to sleep in my own bed and soak in the tub.

“You’ve made good time,” Mom observes.

I have. I limited myself to 8-9 hours a day, and I’ve gotten the best rest I could along the way in hotels. But I’m over fast food and vending machines. At least I’ve stretched my legs and walked at rest stops when possible. Still, my body feels stiff from traveling.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“Mom. I’m okay. I’ve got an apartment lined up, and I already paid the deposit and the first month’s rent. Remember?”

“I know.” She pauses, and I can hear the slight catch in her throat. “It’s just that you’ve been through so much.”

“I need to do this. We’ve talked about it. A lot ,” I emphasize. I’m not losing patience with her as much as I don’t want to talk about all the reasons I left California.

“It’s so far,” she finally says with a sniffle.

“It’s a relocation and an amazing job opportunity. You’re the one who found the job listing.”

“I regret that now,” she laughs, but I know she’s not serious.

“I’m only a plane ride away. We’ll schedule a weekend for you and Dad to visit once I’m settled.”

“I should have come with you. You’ve driven all that way alone.”

I needed the time to think and process the changes.

Not to mention escaping any connection to the attack that nearly took my life eight months earlier.

With the reminder, a phantom pain flares in my left thigh, and I tense, breathing through the flashback as my therapist advised in one of our sessions.

My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, relieved my parents won’t see my struggle. One of the best features in my Chevy Equinox is hands-free calling. Okay, the remote start, heated seats, and panoramic moonroof are awesome too.

It’s not easy, but I maintain control without slipping into the nightmares that haunt me whenever I close my eyes. Some might say I’m running from my past. I just want to move on and live my life. Before I can answer my mother, I hear my father’s voice in the background.

“She needed to do this, April.” His voice is gentle.

If anyone can calm my mom, it’s my dad. He’s had decades of practice, and he knows just what to say.

His tone is always patient when she’s emotional.

It’s a testament to how much my parents still love one another after so many years.

“Lottie is capable of handling herself.”

My dad made sure of that. Still, his confidence in me is appreciated and means everything.

After my attack, I took some self-defense courses.

I keep pepper spray in my purse, and I’ve gone to the firing range to practice with the gun my father purchased for me.

I’m much better prepared if someone tries to hurt me as compared to a year ago.

I’m not the same girl. It’s a sad truth, but also a necessity.

I’m aware of my surroundings now, and I’m careful who I trust.

It’s not a bad thing.

“Dad’s right. This is the type of opportunity I’ve been waiting for, and I want to make a fresh start,” I assure my mom.

I hear her sniffle a second time. “I know, my girl. I really do.”

Good. “I’m about to take the exit. I really should pay attention so I can find my new building.”

“Go, honey. We’ll talk to you soon,” Dad answers, quick to end the conversation before my mother cries.

In all fairness, she’s a crier. I used to be before the attack and nightmares. It’s different now.

“Call us later!” Mom adds with a shout before the call ends.

It’s not longer than a minute before another call comes through and I answer, exiting from the highway to follow the directions on my GPS. “Hello?”

“Lottie!”

“Mel. I’m almost there!”

“Yay! Do you need me to hang up and wait for you to get settled?”

I do. “Yeah. It’s a bit of a maze around here, and I just took the exit into town.”

“No worries, sis. Call me back when you’ve got a chance to catch your breath.”

“I will.”

My sister is my best friend. She gets her understanding and patience from Dad. I tend to take more after Mom. Well, again, that’s recently changed. I’m still not sure who I am now.

That’s the thing about trauma. It uproots you from your core and fundamentally shakes everything you believe.

In its wake, you’re broken. It takes time and therapy to put yourself back together again.

At least, it did for me. I’m still figuring out who I am now and how facing death has changed my perspective on nearly everything.

But I still know what matters. Family. Not living in fear, making roots somewhere new. Finding the part of me I lost. I’ve come a long way since the night I was stabbed. I survived a brutal attack, and I’m here, breathing, and I won’t let what that motherfucker did to me steal anything else.

“Love ya, Lottie!”

“Right back at ya, Mel!”

The call ends as I spot the road for my turn.

Before I can take it, the light flips to red.

It’s early evening, and my stomach rumbles with hunger.

It’s after five p.m., and the roads are congested, but nothing like California.

If this is Raven’s Crest’s rush hour, I’m lucky.

Driving around before and after work won’t be a hardship at all.

The light turns green, and I continue to my destination, stopping to park outside my building.

There’s a concierge who left the back dock open for me and an elevator key I can pick up at the front desk.

It’s fancier than I expected as I walk inside, looping my purse strap over my shoulder as it crosses my chest.

I made it. Now I just have to be sure the movers brought my furniture in and didn’t damage anything.

My parents paid for the moving company to bring all the heavier items, including kitchen appliances, dishes, and boxes of home décor and bedding.

I couldn’t bring it all in my car. Dad spoke to the owner of my building, and he assured him that it was fine to have my stuff moved in before I arrived, especially since I was relocating from such a distance.

The concierge let them in a few days ago, and they dropped everything off, even putting together my bed before they left.

It doesn’t take long for me to get checked in, receive my keys, and head back out to the dock. I stare at all the stuff I have to bring inside, wishing I could snap my fingers, and it would relocate inside my apartment with magic. Silly.

Everyone knows magic doesn’t exist, but I still believe in Harry Potter. I can’t help it. Blame it on my dad. He’s the one who spent weekends watching the movies with me and Mel growing up. House Slytherin! We might be a bit obsessed.

I square my shoulders, open my car, and begin to unload.

TWO HOURS LATER, I collapse on my couch.

It’s not exactly where I want it, but the movers didn’t do a terrible job.

Nothing is broken that I can tell. I’ll be adjusting things and unpacking over the next three days until I start my new job on Monday.

The summer is almost over, and my classroom will need some work to be ready by midweek for the start of lessons.

I only take a few minutes to rest and decide if I don’t get up now, I won’t get a damn thing done before I crash. My body is tired and I’m still hungry. Groceries will be a necessity tomorrow. For now, I have snacks from the trip, and I can make that work until the morning.

After another hour, I finish unpacking the essentials, set up my kitchen and bathroom, and take a shower. I settle on my living room couch with a snack and tuck my legs under me, not bothering to flip on the TV since I won’t have anything hooked up until Saturday.

I’m just dozing off when my phone rings. I sigh as I pick it up, hoping Mom isn’t going to blow me up this late. It’s Mel.

“Hey, sis,” I answer with a yawn.

“Shit. You’re tired. Want me to call back? ”

“No. It’s fine. Really.”

“How’s the apartment? Do you like it?”

“It’s much nicer than I first realized. The pictures don’t do it justice. The windows are long panes that let in a ton of light, and the kitchen is fabulous, Mel. It’s got shaker-style cabinets and granite countertops. All the appliances are stainless steel. I’m thrilled.”

“I’m so glad. You worried it would be too country instead of modern.”

“I know,” I laugh. “It’s quiet and pretty here. You can actually see the stars outside my window, and they’re twinkling so close it feels like I can reach out and touch them from my balcony.”

The balcony was another feature of the apartment that I loved, in addition to the rainfall showerhead in the bathroom. I was going to love living here. I could feel it.

“I’m so jealous. Maybe I need to move out of the city.”

My sister lived in L.A. She thrived in that environment. She’d always been an extrovert.

“You love it there and you know it.”

“I really do,” she agreed with a giggle.

“I can’t believe I’m here, Mel.”

“You doing okay?” Her tone softens, and she doesn’t have to say why she’s checking in. Mel and my father have been there for me the most through this transition. I’m closest to them, although I also have a great relationship with my mother. I’m blessed.

“Yeah. A little tired.”

“That’s to be expected after such a long trip.”

True.

“What about the biker?” she asks, conjuring him in my mind with her question .

Since my attack, I’ve been having nightmares and strange recurring dreams. In particular, there’s a guy dressed in a black leather vest who rides a Harley.

He’s handsome, covered in dark tattoos, tall, and imposing with a smile that nearly makes my girly bits ache.

I don’t know why I keep seeing him, but after I accepted this job, he began entering my dreams almost every night.

“I still see him.”

“That’s so strange, but it’s super hot.”

I laugh. “He’s not real.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe fate is pushing you toward him or something.”

“This isn’t Harry Potter, Mel. There’s no magic or love potion to help me find the perfect man.”

She snorts at my comments. “Lottie, you and I both know things happen in real life that can’t be explained. Don’t you remember Will?”

Will. The boy who followed us around all summer when I was twelve and my sister was thirteen. He seemed strange but nice. Then one weekend when we went to the beach and my sister nearly drowned, Will saved her life.

The weird part? He told us afterward he knew he needed to watch us because something was going to happen to Mel, and he had to be the one to help her. After that summer, Will moved away. We never heard from him again, but we never forgot him.

“That was different,” I point out. “We were kids. Accidents happen.”

“Lottie, I would have died if he hadn’t been there.”

Maybe. “We don’t know that.”

She sighs. “I think this mysterious biker is important somehow. You’re seeing him for a reason.”

“I still don’t think he’s real. ”

“What about the orgasms?”

Shit. I shouldn’t have told her about the few times he’s touched and kissed me in those dreams. It’s just fantasy.

“Mel! How can you bring that up?”

She’s laughing too hard to answer me.

“I’m going to hang up,” I warn her.

“You get some sleep, sis.”

“I will.”

“Don’t forget to keep your vibrator close. Those dreams sound intense.”

“I hate you,” I spit, not meaning a word of it.

“You adore and love me. I’m your sissy.”

“I really do,” I relent, sighing dramatically.

“I love you just as much. Call me soon, especially if you meet the biker.”

“Uh-huh. Bye, Mel.”

“Bye, Lottie.”

We end the call, and I sink lower into the cushions of my couch, shaking my head as I think of our conversation.

There’s no way I’m dreaming of a real person.

The guy is eye candy with a deep rasp to his voice.

He’s handsome in that gritty, wild way that most women find attractive.

He’s dark and sexy and has to be something I conjured in my mind to help me deal with the attack and trauma.

I won’t see the biker. My mind understands that. But my heart? My nonexistent sex life? They both secretly hope he’s real.