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Abby

The road ahead twists and turns like a poorly kept secret.

Thankfully, I love me some shadowy intrigue.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always been drawn to this place.

The tall, rugged mountains, the scent of pine, and the small-town charm.

Oh, and the big, rough men—can’t forget them.

I swear they grow differently here. I’ve never seen so many tall, built men before.

Rugged Mountain is a fantasy come to life. I can’t believe it’s my new home.

It’s not that I don’t like Texas, I do. It’s cute, in its own oppressively hot, pokey cactus, blank beauty kind of way, but I can’t picture one desert sunset that could beat the view of snow-capped mountains spilling into a turquoise lake. That, and Hank is here.

Hank. The man I’ve been in love with for as long as I can remember.

That said, nothing will ever come of the relationship.

My brother would never have it. They’ve been best friends all their lives.

I’m pretty sure he’d view a relationship between Hank and I as a personal stab in the throat.

That, and Hank isn’t into me. He’s a six-and-a-half-foot monster of a man.

He could have any woman he wants. And though I could fantasize about him wanting me, reality says that my round shape isn’t as genetically preferred as an hourglass or even a triangle.

Why are we all reduced to shapes? I’m so much more than a circle. I’m a person with thoughts and ideas, and given the chance, I think I have a lot to offer.

I pull into a cute little diner set on the main street of town.

It’s nearly dark, so there’s only a few people out and about.

I’ve noticed that since I got here, most folks are inside by dinner time, except for Saturday nights when they head down to Mullet’s bar for a drink and live music.

I’ve never been much of a late-night person anyway, so the early nights are fine by me.

In fact, this seven p.m. meetup with my friend Maci is as late as I’ve been out in a long while.

“You’re lookin’ cute!” She sneaks up from behind me, poking me in the ribs. She means it playfully, but I jump anyhow. I’ve always been easily scared. I like to blame it on my overactive imagination.

When I was a kid, I was convinced ghostly stalkers were just waiting for me to let my guard down. I slept with a flashlight until I was fourteen. That’s a lie… I still sleep with a flashlight. Hell, I won’t even think about entering a basement without a legally binding escape plan.

“Shit! You scared the hell outta me.” I twist back quickly, holding my hand over my stomach as though letting go would mean it falling on the ground. “Why aren’t you inside ordering us milkshakes? You texted and asked me what I wanted.”

“I did! Then I ran across the street to grab this record before the store closed. It’s your birthday, and birthdays require gifts.” She grins ear to ear and holds up the square shaped prize covered by a white plastic bag.

“I thought I said no gifts.”

“I know,” she strings her fingers through her long brown hair and hands the record toward me, “but you only turn twenty-five once. Plus, you can’t skip candles, cake, and gifts on your birthday. I’m pretty sure that’s bad luck or something. Come on… take it!”

Tilting my head to the side, I sigh with a soft smile and reach for the gift. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know!” She leans forward and tears down the plastic bag excitedly. “It’s the new Morgan Waylon album! It just came out last week. Your boss said you were holding it to buy for yourself next paycheck.”

Oh, man. This is a thoughtful gift too. “Awe,” I lean and wrap her for a quick squeeze, “thank you. I love it. You really shouldn’t have, though.”

“I’m glad you like it. We should get inside for the ice cream. I watched our waitress set the glasses at our table thirty seconds ago and my stomach his growling.” Maci smiles wide and reaches for the diner door, pulling it open as the scent of freshly baked pie comes spilling out.

It’s not the first time I’ve been inside the diner, but it’s the first time I’ve seen the place nearly empty.

It’s now dark outside, so even the mountain views are hushed.

Instead, the diner illuminates itself. The red canvas booths, the shiny silver tables, the posters hung promoting the summer festival coming to Rugged Mountain.

It’s like a scene from a small-town movie.

Usually, I’m too focused on faces and random conversations about someone’s family drama to notice the décor.

Eavesdropping has turned into a very entertaining pastime.

I’ve learned all kinds of things—like Uncle Joe’s affair with the night waitress, Grandma Helen’s secret stash of lottery winnings, and a few conversations about folks falling for people they shouldn’t be falling for.

That one hits too close to home.

“So… what’s with the whole avoiding your birthday thing?

” Maci dips into her green mint milkshake with a french fry.

“I love my birthday! I make people celebrate me all week long. The more attention, the better! My boyfriend likes to call it the ‘week-long festival of forced enthusiasm’ but I think of it more like a birthday queen type of situation.”

I twist my straw around in the strawberry shake before grabbing a fry to dip. “I don’t know, just never liked birthdays.”

“Okay.” Maci narrows her brows, and I half expect her to press me for more details.

Details I don’t want to give. It’s not that I don’t trust her.

It’s that I don’t know her. I only got to town a month ago.

Sure, I met Maci that same day, but it takes a lot more than a month to know someone, especially to tell them all your secrets.

“But why? Birthdays are fun! They’re a celebration of your life. ”

I go back to eating, desperate to change the subject. I should’ve just said no to this. Avoidance is a heck of a lot easier than pretending. “Yeah, that’s… I should… next year, maybe. What’s up with you? How’s that piece going you were working on?”

She lowers her head, and the smile she’s usually wearing turns down.

It’s momentary, and she recovers quickly, but I gather I’ve struck an unintentional nerve.

“It’s okay… I’m just sick of the fluff pieces.

I mean, I interviewed Mrs. Robinson last week about the playground project finally being finished, I talked to Josie about her bakery being ruined by that bear last year, and I interview about half a dozen people a week about their small business ideas or their birthdays, but I really want to be taken more seriously, ya know?

I need a real story, with grit and stakes.

I’m thinking about focusing in on the biker gang that moved into town.

” She nods toward the back booth. “I think those guys over there are a part of it.”

I glance back at the table in the corner where two giant men in leather sit eating burgers and fries. They’re covered in tattoos, and while they don’t currently look menacing, I know the kinds of things these types of guys are into.

“You okay?” Maci reaches toward my hand. “They’re not gonna hurt us. They aren’t random violence bikers… I don’t think .”

“I know,” I sigh, “my brother is their Prez.”

Maci’s eyes widen as a smile lifts her cheeks. “ What? You’ve been holding out! We have an in. Is he over there? We should go say hi.”

“No. I haven’t talked to my brother in over a year. I didn’t even know he was in charge of this thing until recently. If I did, I wouldn’t have come out here.”

She narrows her brows and stares at me with anticipation, as though I’m holding her back from her dreams. “Why don’t you talk to your brother?”

“Umm… Duke’s an overprotective psychopath. That’s the first reason. There are quite a few others, though. You don’t want to mess with him or the people he knows.”

The kitchen quiets, and for a second, I can hear every word being spoken, every toe being tapped.

‘The Prez has to go. He’s a traitor.’

My heart pounds hard as I try to rationalize what I’ve heard. That can’t be right. I must have heard wrong. I hate this.

I hate that he’s involved with this MC, but what can I do? I’ve begged him to change his life. He doesn’t listen.

“Okay… you heard that too, right?” Maci’s face looks paler than before. She leans in slowly and says, “They’re totally after your brother, aren’t they?”

I glance back at the two men sitting in the corner booth, noticing more details than before so I can describe them to the police if I need to. Buzzed hair, dark black ink, a scorpion on one of their hands… or maybe it’s a spider.

What the hell is going on? What did Duke get himself wrapped in this time?

I lean in closer, trying to hear more of the men’s conversation, but the kitchen noise has picked up again. I’m staring when one of the men glances toward me, making direct eye contact.

Oh shit!

“We gotta go,” I announce to Maci, who’s seemingly unphased by the amount of danger she’s in.

“Why? This is just getting good. I need a juicy story, and this is the most interesting thing that’s ever happened here.

Trust me, I’ve been on this mountain since the day I was born.

Twenty-seven years and nothing. Now, all the sudden, some action, and you want to leave?

Girl, you’re from Texas! Aren’t there shoot-outs all the time there? ”

“Shoot-outs? It’s not the wild west anymore.

Not to mention that these guys probably won’t shoot either.

They’ll kidnap us, take us back to their secret lair, and we’ll never be seen again.

Don’t you ever watch crime dramas? This is the beginning of every episode.

A quiet night at the diner, an innocent bystander, and bam…

back of a blacked-out van with nothing but a six foot hole on the horizon. ”