Chapter 3: Gabby

GABBY

Ididn't argue when Byte told me Phoenix wanted us to return to Croftridge for the weekend. Any other time, I would have protested, or at least insisted that they ask me instead of telling me. But I was terrified and wanted nothing more than to feel the safety and security I knew the club could provide.

Their protection was something I'd taken for granted. In Croftridge, no one messed with anyone affiliated with the club. Women and children were off limits, and everyone knew it. Apparently, the same wasn't true for Cedar Valley.

I quickly packed a bag for the weekend, with Byte standing guard at my bedroom door. I don't know how he knew, but I was too scared to enter my room alone. When my steps faltered, he wordlessly rose to his feet and followed me. I'd felt so safe in his arms, and I desperately wanted to feel that safety again. To be curled up against him where nothing could hurt me. It was odd. I'd been around him for most of my life and had never thought of him as anything other than Jacob's club brother and my sister's friend. But suddenly, I didn't want to be more than a few feet away from him. It was silly, and I knew it, but that didn't change anything.

Once my bag was packed, I followed Byte back to the living room on autopilot.

"Are y'all ready to go?" Edge asked.

"I think so," I said and readjusted the backpack I was carrying.

"Do you have a helmet?" Byte asked.

"Of course," I said and reached into the closet by the front door to retrieve mine. With that, I locked the front door, set the alarm, and climbed on the back of Byte's bike.

My mind was a whirlwind of activity the entire ride to Byte's house. I kept replaying the events of the night over and over, and one part stood out to me more than anything else. I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard the person say my name, and Byte said it was probably someone I knew. That couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

Before I knew it, Byte turned off the road onto a long, winding driveway that led to a house hidden by the surrounding trees. I couldn't see a lot because it was dark, but from what I could tell, it looked to be a modern two-story log cabin.

Once inside, Byte showed me to the room I'd be staying in and told me to make myself comfortable. I dropped onto the bed and covered my eyes with my arm, inhaling deeply. I intended to enjoy a few minutes of peace before going out to talk to Byte. Instead, I promptly fell asleep.

I woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cooked bacon. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I made my way to the kitchen and found Byte standing in front of the stove wearing a pair of gray drawstring pants and no shirt. He was tall and lean, with his well-defined muscles on full display.

"Good morning," I said awkwardly. I'd known Byte for the majority of my life, but I'd never spent any time alone with him. And I'd never seen him with so little clothes on.

"Morning," he replied without turning around. "Help yourself to coffee. Eggs and bacon are almost done, but there's cereal in the pantry if you'd prefer that."

"I'm good with eggs and bacon. Where do you keep your mugs?"

"Top cabinet to the right of the sink."

"Thanks," I replied and set about making a cup for myself. Thankfully, the sugar was already out on the counter so I didn't have to ask where it was. I had no idea why I felt so uncomfortable, but I was hyperaware of every move I made, and I couldn't seem to shake it.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nope. Just make yourself comfortable," he said and started plating the food. I almost snorted at his choice of words. I was so far from comfortable it was almost funny.

Moments later, he placed a plate in front of me with more food than I could possibly eat. Well, I could handle the few strips of bacon, but the mountain of eggs was another story.

"Um, at the risk of sounding rude, there's no way I'll be able to eat all of this."

He laughed. "I made extra for the chickens. Eat what you want, and I'll give the leftovers to them."

"You have chickens?" I asked in surprise.

"Yes. Why?"

I shrugged. "You don't seem like a chicken person."

He eyed me curiously. "Really? Should I be offended? I feel like I should be offended."

"What? No! I didn't mean?—"

"Relax," he laughed. "I'm just messing with you."

"In my defense, I don't know any bikers with farm animals," I said and shoved a forkful of eggs into my mouth.

"Are you forgetting about the dairy farm? And your sister has so many horses, I've lost count."

"My sister isn't a biker. And the dairy farm is a business. I don't know any bikers who have farm animals at home," I countered.

"To be honest, it wasn't exactly my idea to have chickens. They showed up in my back yard one day. When I didn't have any luck finding out who they belonged to, I decided to keep them," he explained.

"Are these eggs from them?" I asked between bites.

"Yes," he nodded. "I haven't had to buy eggs from the store since they showed up. And I never will again."

"I can see why. These are really good."

"I never understood the hype about fresh eggs until I had them for myself," he admitted.

"So, you feed the chickens their own eggs? Isn't that weird?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Not really. A lot of animals eat their own kind, including their offspring—fish, for example. But I don't have a rooster, so these eggs aren't fertilized. I guess it's kind of like recycling."

I started to ask more about the chickens, but he changed the subject before I had the chance. "We need to talk about what happened last night."

"I know," I said and reached for my cup of coffee to take a big sip. I knew it was coming, but I'd hoped to avoid the subject for a bit longer.

"Is there anything you haven't told me?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?" I returned, trying to stall.

"When I said the perpetrator was likely someone you knew, you opened your mouth like you were going to say something but didn't. It seemed like you made some sort of mental connection."

"Well, aren't you observant," I muttered.

"Start talking, Gabby," he said sternly.

I sighed and clasped my hands together. "When I was hiding and waiting for you, I thought I heard him say my name."

"Like he was calling your name?"

"Not exactly. He was in my closet, and I thought he said, ‘Gabby girl, where are you?' But I'm not sure. Everything was happening so fast, and I was really trying not to make a sound."

"Do you have any idea who it could have been?" he asked.

"Maybe," I admitted. I didn't really think it was him, but I couldn't come up with any other possibilities. "I met a guy a couple of weeks ago, and we went out a few times. We weren't hitting it off, so I told him I didn't think we should keep seeing each other after our last date. He agreed, and that was that. Or so I thought. A few days later, I was pulled over on my way home from work for having a taillight out. When I looked at it, the light wasn't just out, it had been smashed. The next week, I had a flat tire. Then, last night, I heard someone say my name. I can't say for sure that he's the one doing these things, but this unprecedented string of bad luck started shortly after I broke up with him."

Byte stopped pacing and turned to look at me. "What's this prick's name?"

"You can't kill him," I blurted.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't want you to get in trouble because of me. And I don't even know if it's him."

"If you tell me his name, I'll find out if it's him."

"What if it is?"

He sighed in frustration. "Gabby, it sounds like someone is terrorizing you. We need to figure out who it is, and then we'll come up with a way to put a stop to it. I'm not opposed to killing someone who deserves it, but it isn't my go-to response."

"His name is Chad Higgins," I confessed.

"What else do you know about him?"

"He said he was twenty-nine and works as a correctional officer at the prison."

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Not really. He was very closed off and never wanted to talk about himself, which is one of the things that unnerved me."

"Wait. I thought you said you broke it off because you two didn't hit it off?"

"We didn't, but there was something about him that creeped me out. I feel bad saying that because I can't tell you why exactly. It was just a feeling," I admitted.

"I'm going to grab my laptop and see what I can find out about creepy Chad."

He returned to the kitchen moments later with his computer and started searching. I wasn't sure what to do while he worked, so I busied myself with cleaning the kitchen and loading the dishwasher. I berated myself the whole time for not checking into Chad myself. I was nowhere near as skilled as Byte when it came to technology, but I was capable of performing a basic internet search.

The sound of the laptop closing and Byte's chair sliding back from the table brought me out of my thoughts. "What did you find?"

"What makes you think I found something?"

"Because you're you. You always find something."

"I can't argue with that," he said with a slight smile that quickly disappeared. "I'm afraid I don't have great news."

"Well, let's hear it," I said and tried to brace myself for whatever news he was going to share.

"I need to do some more digging, but from what I can tell, he's not a correctional officer at the prison."

"What do you mean?"

"I checked the prison's current employees. He's not one of them. Like I said, I need to do some more digging, but I can already tell you he's not who he said he was."

"I'm so fucking stupid," I mumbled to myself.

"Don't say that. You had no way of knowing. And you ended things because he made you uncomfortable. There's nothing stupid about that," he corrected.

"Thanks." I appreciated his words, though they didn't make me feel any better. Thankfully, I trusted my intuition and ended things when I did. Before I could continue thinking about what could have happened, another thought occurred to me. "Did you see a picture of him online? Was he the one who broke into my house?"

"I'm not sure. A few pictures came up, but none of them are very clear. I didn't get a good look at him because it was dark, and he was wearing a hat. I also didn't notice anything distinctive or identifying about him."

"Let me see the pictures."

He opened up his laptop and turned the screen toward me. I scrolled through the few images and shook my head. "None of those are him."

"I had a feeling that was the case," he admitted.

"So, what do you think I should do now?" I asked.

He exhaled audibly and leaned back in his chair. "Phoenix wants us to come to the clubhouse after lunch. We'll talk to him and go from there."

I glanced at the time and exhaled heavily. "That's still a few hours away, and this is going to drive me crazy until then. I don't like not having a plan."

"He'll likely agree to not notifying Keegan and Shaker as long as the club knows what's going on and you're safe."

"Right, but how is the club going to ensure my safety? I can't come back to Croftridge until Keegan and Shaker get back. Between school and work, I'm barely home as it is," I explained.

"Well, what's your schedule like for the next two weeks?"

"I have to work Monday. I'm at the doctor's office from eight to five on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for my clinical hours. I'm off Friday, work Saturday and Sunday, and off Monday. The next three days are clinical hours again. I work on Friday, and I'm off for the weekend. Then, it repeats every two weeks until the end of the semester."

"That's intense."

"Don't I know it," I commiserated.

He was quiet for a few moments before he made a suggestion. "Okay, how about this? I'll stay at your place and be your shadow for the next two weeks."

"I, um," I stammered. "Can you do that?"

He shrugged. "I don't see why not. I can work from anywhere as long as I have a computer and an internet connection."

"What about your chickens?" I blurted. I wasn't necessarily trying to find a reason why he couldn't stay with me, but I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea. Truthfully, I was uncomfortable with it for reasons I didn't want to acknowledge, like how safe I felt in his presence or how my stomach fluttered when he smiled.

He waved his hand dismissively. "One of the prospects or club kids can take care of them while I'm gone."

"Well, I guess we have a plan," I conceded.

"Once again, I feel like I should be offended," he teased and placed his hand over his heart.

Suddenly, I felt like an asshole. He came to my rescue the moment I called, risked his life chasing away the intruder, and offered to spend the next two weeks of his life being my bodyguard. "Crap. I'm sorry, Byte. I'm truly grateful for everything. I'm just upset about the whole situation. It has nothing to do with you personally."

"It's fine, Gabby," he said and stood from his seat. "You want to help me feed the chickens?"

"I'd love to," I said. "Do you have any other animals?"

"Why? Are you hoping I have a pig?" he laughed.

"Do you?" I asked hopefully. I loved pigs and had begged Keegan for one when I was little.

He shook his head. "No. Just the chickens. But who knows? One may wander into my yard one day."