Page 7 of Property of Scythe (Kings of Anarchy MC: Ohio #1)

“ W hat’s the emergency, sis?” Lottie asks as she answers my call.

I sent off a frantic text only a minute earlier, desperate to talk to someone about the biker from my dreams who’s actually a real guy. And he’s sexier than any fantasy I could conjure.

“I met my biker.”

Silence greets me.

“Twice,” I reveal.

“No shit?”

“He’s real, Mel.”

“I knew it!” she shouts as I temporarily pull my cell away from my ear.

“Mel, he’s the father of one of my students.”

“Get out! No way.”

“She’s the sweetest little girl. Her name is Mila.”

“Aw. That’s cute.”

“She’s adorable,” I add. “She looks like her father. Same hair and eye color. They both have dimples.”

“Wait. Is he single?”

It’s not a dumb question. “I don’t know.”

“Hmmm. Have you spoken to him yet?”

“A little. Once at the bakery and then at the elementary school. OMG, this bakery, Mel. It’s just like that little place in L.A.

we both love with all the finger sandwiches, bagels, and fresh produce, except it’s a bakery, so there’s brownies, cookies, cinnamon rolls, and the pastries are to die for. ”

“Lottie.”

I pause. “Yeah?”

“What do you think this means?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit, not wanting to dwell on the reason I saw Scythe in my dreams before we met. It’s weird. Truth be told, it’s also scary.

“This isn’t the first time,” she whispers.

I know.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“This is different, Mel.”

“Is it? Because last time you dreamed about a guy and he showed up in real life, you dated him, and he tried to kill you.”

Okay. That wasn’t all true. She had the facts a bit skewed. “I never actually dated that psycho.”

“Do Mom and Dad know?”

Absolutely not. “Just keep this between us, okay?”

“Lottie, what if something happens? You’re in some little hick town in Ohio. Is there even a hospital?”

I hate that she views Raven’s Crest as some hick town. It’s far from it. “Mel, that’s an unfair assumption. This town is beautiful and charming.”

“Even with the ghost of a serial killer and a haunted hotel?”

I guess she did her homework. “So? Maybe it’s a bit creepy, but it’s nearly Halloween.”

“In two months,” she fires back.

“I’m fine, Mel. There’s no danger.” I don’t know if I’m convincing her or myself. Something is odd about Raven’s Crest, but it doesn’t make me feel frightened. On the contrary, I feel safe here, like someone is watching my back. Literally.

I have to believe whoever paid for my purchases while I shopped around town meant to be kind and wanted to stay anonymous. Nothing is wrong with that. Right?

People shouldn’t be punished for performing good deeds.

“I want to visit soon, but I won’t be able to take any time off until Thanksgiving,” Mel finally answers. She doesn’t respond to my insistence that I’m safe and no one will harm me, but that’s my sister. Overprotective to a fault.

I love her even more for it. She’s the reason I gave therapy a chance after my attack. I lived with Mel for months before I felt brave enough to return to my apartment. The first night I slept in my bed, we stayed on the phone all night.

In the dictionary under “Best Sister of all Time”, there has to be a photo of Mel.

“Stay in touch, Lottie. Promise me.”

“I will.” She’s scared I’m going to fall into depression again. I’ve come a long way since then. “I’m really okay, Mel.”

She sighs. “Well, if anything else happens with your hot biker, I want to know.”

“You’ll be the first,” I vow.

“Love ya, sis.”

“Love you more, Mel. ”

The call ends, and I place my phone on the coffee table, lifting my knees as I sit back. Today marks the end of my first day of classes as a second-grade teacher. I loved it. It’s challenging, noisy, and mostly chaotic, but I adore the kids already.

If I’m honest, there’s one little girl who’s already stolen a piece of my heart. Mila is a gentle soul, bright, outgoing, and an absolute joy. She seemed shy when we first met, but by the end of the day, I saw no trace of it.

When Scythe came to the door to pick her up, I didn’t miss the heated sweep of his dark eyes over my body. If literal flames could dance in his caramel brown depths, I would have seen them. There’s something there that’s more than attraction, and I want to explore it.

It’s risky for me after all I’ve been through in the last year. I don’t have a clue how Scythe feels about me. But it’s not hard to guess with the way he looks at me. I’ve only seen him a few times, and I can already tell he’s a good father, friendly, and cares about the other people in town.

It’s so different than growing up in southern California. People are always on the go, too busy and stuck in their lives to notice their neighbors most of the time. But here, the pace is slower, calmer, and everyone I pass by offers a greeting. If you ask me, Raven’s Crest is far superior to L.A.

On that thought, I scramble off the couch and decide I need to explore.

I’ve seen downtown and my neighborhood, but I want to witness the sunset when it paints the horizon in shades of pink and purple, and the cornfields where I spotted all the scarecrows the day I drove into town, maybe take a stroll through all those weeping willow trees that line the edge of the forest behind my building.

My timing is perfect as I exit, pushing my arms through the sleeves of my sweater.

There’s just enough chill in the air to warrant the extra layer with a slight breeze that’s beginning to blow around fallen leaves.

Only a few litter the ground, but in the coming weeks, they’ll crunch underfoot in a variety of fall colors .

The scent of cinnamon, pumpkin, nutmeg, and allspice tickles my senses.

Not far away, Granny Jo must be baking inside the Butter Bliss.

And the coffee shop on the corner is already preparing drinks that cater to autumn.

The signs in the window boast frothy and whipped toppings along with the season’s signature flavors.

It’s as close to heaven as I can imagine. Nothing makes me feel freer or less stressed than a walk in fresh air and a pretty view. I feel relaxed as I move beyond the shops and restaurants, leaving downtown to walk toward the cornfields.

Since I’m from California, it’s a sight I’ve not witnessed often.

We don’t have farmland like this where I grew up.

It’s the height that’s impressive as I reach the edge of the cornstalks.

They’re much taller than I am, planted in long rows so tightly together that if I walked ten feet inside, I know I’d be lost. I can imagine it’s terrifying to be stuck inside after dark, especially without a flashlight or phone.

As my gaze sweeps over the plants, I notice a tall wooden stake anchored in the ground.

I follow it to the top, where I find a scarecrow mounted, his arms stretching outward across a bisecting beam, staring down at the rows of corn as if he’s ready to eliminate any threat.

The thought makes me smile. He must be doing his job well. There aren’t any crows.

That’s when I notice two things. One, the sun has dipped below the horizon. It’ll be dark soon. Two, I’m not alone.

I can’t explain how I know. It’s a feeling of being watched that suddenly appeared and has nothing to do with the harmless scarecrow perched above my head.

I blink up at his face, wondering how his face seems so lifelike with skin that’s faded and a texture similar to leather.

The eyes are what amp up the creepy factor.

They seem to lock onto me, following my movements as I back away from the cornfield.

For some unknown reason, my heart starts beating faster, and I suck in a ragged breath, wondering if I’m imagining how the scarecrow stays fixed on me even when I begin to walk out of sight.

In just a few steps, I’ll have to turn the corner, and my back will face him.

It’s silly and irrational to feel afraid, but I do.

What if he hops off the pole and comes after me?

I’ve watched too many horror movies.

As soon as I turn the corner, I pick up speed, walking faster than necessary to put some distance between me and the scarecrow. I’m all but running as I hear a thud behind me and suspect the worst. I don’t dare look over my shoulder, too chicken shit to confirm my fears.

I had to look like a crazy woman as I hustled my way into town, stopping only once I reached the familiar shops. Bending over at the waist, I rest my hands on my knees, dragging air into my lungs as my heart continues to pound a vicious rhythm in my chest.

“Lottie?”

I glance up through my lashes and spot the jeans and black leather. It’s Scythe. “Hi.”

“You okay?”

I stand up, forcing myself to slow my breathing and appear calm. I’m not, but he doesn’t have to know that. “Sure. Just a bit out of breath from my walk.”

He stares at me like he doesn’t believe the answer. “You sure?”

Well, I almost got taken out by a scarecrow, I want to say. I don’t. “I got a bit spooked. I’m fine.”

“Spooked how?” He appears concerned.

“It’s nothing. I thought I heard someone following me.”

“Show me where it happened.”

I want to brush it off, but maybe it’s a good idea for him to take a look so that I can dismiss this experience as paranoia. With my past, it’s possible it all took place in my head. The trauma left me with residual fear that likes to pop up at the worst times.

But I’m wrong. As we approach the section of the street where I felt someone following me, Scythe gestures to the ground.

In the mud, larger footprints are trailing behind smaller, daintier ones.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out someone did actually follow me.

Was it for nefarious reasons? I don’t know.

“Whoever it was, they almost caught you.” He frowns. “If you weren’t running, I don’t know what would have happened.”

Great. “Shit,” I curse.

“Hey, I’m sure it was just another runner. Lots of people like to take advantage of the cooler temps in the evenings to get some exercise. It doesn’t mean anything bad.”

Nice try. “It felt creepy,” I admit.

He looks bothered by my words. “This is a safe town. All that shit that happened here took place a long time ago.”

Maybe so, but I still felt off, like whoever was watching never left the area. “I still feel it, Scythe.”

“Feel what?”

“Like I’m being watched.”

“Fuck.” He scans the storefronts around us, his gaze bouncing from one end of the street to the other. “I don’t see anything out of place or anyone suspicious. Would you feel safer if I walked you home?”

“Definitely,” I reply without hesitation.

Scythe walks beside me as we head back to my building. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Is there anyone bothering you? Or who could have followed you from California with bad intentions?”

The question nearly knocks me on my ass.

He’s asking about my past. I won’t talk about the attack.

I can’t. I came here to forget about it, not look over my shoulder and wait for it to happen again.

“I don’t think so,” I finally manage to choke out, hoping he doesn’t notice how his question affected me.

Since the asshole who hurt me is still in prison, I don’t have anything to worry about .

Scythe nods. “Good.”

We don’t say a lot, but I don’t feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter.

When we reach my building, I turn toward him. “Thanks for walking me home. It’s probably silly, but I’m glad you were there.”

“Me too.” He sounds sincere. “Have a good evening, Lottie.”

“You too, Scythe.”

Later, as I stand in my kitchen and make a cup of hot tea, I glance out the window, and I notice Scythe sitting on his motorcycle, smoking a cigarette. I’m surprised he came back, and it makes me wonder if he’s not convinced that whoever followed me is harmless.

My night is restless, and I get up twice to pace my living room, looking out the window at the spot where I saw Scythe earlier.

Both times, a motorcycle and rider are parked under the streetlight as if keeping watch.

I don’t have to see the leather vests to know it’s his club, the Kings of Anarchy, keeping me safe.