3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Emm

I didn't sleep well that night. I felt like I was being watched through the windows of my home. Yet, each time I went to the window, there weren't any peering eyes, or tracks below the window. The night was empty and the fog had rolled in, covering most of the moon's rays.

With the lack of sleep, I woke early and tidied up the RV, then planned out my day. If any of the posts online about this place were correct, I was going to have a hard time fitting in, and I needed a good rapport if I was going to get any information out of anyone.

I couldn't snoop if people were going to be suspicious of me the entire time.

As I steered my truck into town, the bustling scene overwhelmed me. The streets, previously deserted, now teemed with an array of vehicles: cars, bikes and even pedestrians on the sidewalks. The desolate roads from the night before, where no one could be found, contrasted starkly with the vibrant sight of people going about their day. The scent of exhaust mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting from nearby cafes. The transformation was remarkable; a complete departure from the eerie stillness that allowed a tumbleweed to roll through the town unnoticed the night before.

The biker bar, known as The Iron Fang, stood eerily quiet. Its sign loomed overhead, casting a dim glow on the door. The absence of lights and people made it seem even larger than before. The two-story structure dominated the empty street. Behind the bar, a bustling garage functioned as a real mechanic shop. The air was filled with the scent of oil and metal. The constant whirring of drills and the clattering of tools created a symphony of loud noises that reverberated through the space.

Overall, in the daylight, a seemingly normal town.

I buzzed through town, picking up supplies. Mostly food and water, but I also picked up a burner phone and quickly deposited it in my pocket for safekeeping. The people were not judgmental of me like I'd feared. They were genuine and downright nice, and that put more worry in my gut than them showing hostility.

"Are you staying or passing through?" one cashier asked. He was young, maybe eighteen, fresh out of high school. He had an innocent look about him, but his eyes looked old. That didn't stop him from putting a smile on his face, showing a friendly front and looking genuinely happy.

"Ah, not sure yet. I've been road-tripping for a while. Tired of the corporate world. Wanted to travel around the country for a while." I smiled, letting the lie roll off my tongue.

The boy grinned and put the canned beans in my paper bag. "Yeah? Well, you won't get more nature than this. Just make sure you don't go out at night. The animals around here are savages." He rang me up and told me my total.

As I rummaged through my wallet, I leaned on the counter. "What do you mean by savage? What animals?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders and put the bill in the till. "There are stories, but lately, there have been noises. It's scared the whole town. The mayor has put on a mandatory lockdown at dusk. Everyone has to be in their homes until the animal is caught." He leaned forward to whisper like it was a big secret. "Personally, I think it's a werewolf. You should see some of the damage it leaves in the town sometimes. Huge claw marks on the bricks, loud howls down the alleyways and sometimes, even blood all over the roads with no corpse left behind."

The kid's face went pale, while I just stared at him expressionlessly. I didn't know if he was trying to scare me or himself.

"What about those bikers? They were standing outside the bar last night, past dark." I grabbed my bag from the counter and balanced it on my hip.

The cashier leaned back and glanced around the room like the other stock boy was going to go tattle on him. "That's the Iron Fang. You don't mess with them. They do what they want. Like, they have the cops in their back pocket."

I rolled my eyes. "So, for all you know, it could be the bikers acting like a werewolf or some beast, and getting away with crimes in the middle of the night?"

His lips parted and that little bit of imagination he'd created in his head was crushed.

Gah, way to be a bitch, Emm.

"Look," I glanced at his name tag, "Garret, it could be a werewolf, alright, but why don't you look at the entire picture first, before you get all excited about the prospects of some magical creature taking over the forest and the town?" I turned my back to walk away, but the boy grabbed my arm.

I ripped it away from him quickly, dropped my groceries and pinned his wrist to the table. Garret's face turned pale, his heart beating through his chest.

"Hey, you forgot your change?" his voice shook.

"Sorry," I snapped. "A woman has to know her self-defense. Sorry I did that." Heat flooded my cheeks.

He nodded and dropped it in my hand. "Just so you know, the Iron Fang, they wouldn't do anything malicious like that. They may have the police in their back pocket, but for good reason. They help people. Help women mostly, but they have helped guys, too." He blushed. "They help them get out of tough situations."

"Situations?" I asked.

The boy leaned his head to the side, but his eyes wouldn't meet mine. "Just situations too embarrassing to talk about. Just take it from me. They are good guys. They are here to protect the town. I trust them–with my life."

I hummed, taking in the information Garret had shared with me. It seemed like there was more to this town than ghosts and goblins. Now, we have goblins, werewolves and now, savior bikers?

And what of the townspeople? No one had been mean or unwelcoming—yet, anyway. I hadn't worn out my welcome, although I was trying my hardest not to show my resting bitch face.

I walked out of the small grocery store, into the sunlight, and then I felt it. The hair on the back of my neck rising, with a sense of unease washing over me. As I left the store, I couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching me. The paranoia from the previous night resurfaced, so I quickened my pace back to Marlow and drove at a not-so-suspicious pace back to the RV.

Of course, I passed the bar on the way. It was bustling on the outside, now. Men and women coming and going out of the tavern-like bar. The apartment building across the street had women swarming around the outside, waving, linking arms with some of the men, mostly bikers.

It couldn't possibly be a brothel they had going on, could it?

My eyes narrowed and the high hopes I had for the biker gang vanished.

As I made my way back to the RV, with my heart pounding, I tightly gripped my bag of groceries and swiftly closed the truck door. Despite the silence that enveloped the area, an eerie sensation prickled my skin, as if unseen eyes were fixed on me. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, I anxiously scanned my surroundings. The stillness was almost palpable, not even a single melodious chirp from a bird broke the silence, and the gentle breeze barely whispered against my skin.

I cleared my throat, adjusted the bag on my hip and unlocked the door of the RV, slamming it shut and quickly locking it again.

I don't get spooked easy, and I'm not sure why I was letting those foolish tales get to me.

It's the lack of sleep.

I sat at the small table, unpacking the groceries while deep in thought. My mind was fuzzy, and I needed sleep. Taking a sleeping aid was the only thing that was going to help.

My mind kept going to Iron Fang bikers instead of my target. They piqued my curiosity. If they were truly as involved in helping people as Garret had mentioned, perhaps they would know where the target was.

Then, those women coming out of that apartment building, and the men that surrounded it with guns at their sides. Were they protecting them? Or just making sure they never leave?

Between the internet post and Garrett's confession, that the Iron Fang was important to the town, I couldn't make sense of it. It was distracting. I shouldn't care, I was here for one thing.

Then again, they could be connected. This male could be involved in the gang. The description of the target included strong leadership skills, cunning, tactfulness and even psychosis.

I huffed in annoyance, feeling a headache growing, and pulled the burner phone from my pocket. I plugged it into the outlet, using the RV battery reserve. I waited a few minutes until there was enough charge so I could use it, and quickly typed in the number I had memorized years ago.

It rang three times before they picked up.

"Hola?" The voice was small and meek, and instantly I knew who it was.

I smiled instantly. "Hi Luis, how are you doing, mijo?"

"Good. Mama is walking a lot today."

I let out a sigh of relief and played with the paper in front of me. "That's great, Luis, that's really great! Is she taking her medicine, like she's supposed to?"

"Mmhm, the nurse is nice. She's helped a lot. She lives with us, now."

The muscles in my throat constricted.

Thank God.

"Yeah, she should stay there with you, now. Is the apartment okay? You are still going to school?"

Luis is quiet for a moment. I pulled the phone away to make sure the phone hadn't died on me. "Luis?"

He sniffed. "Si, school is bueno. When are you coming to visit? You haven't come to visit in so long."

I tried not to frown. Somehow, kids can always sense a frown. "Oh, mijo, I wish I could. I have this big job, and if I finish it in time, then I will have a big, big surprise for you."

Luis groaned. "That will take forever."

"Luis, who is on the phone?" my sister, Elena, called. Her voice sounded strong, but there was a hint of pain that only I could recognize.

"It's Tia Emmie! She is going to give me a surprise after her job." His voice faded and Elena's giggle came into the phone.

"Emmie, you can't be making a promise to Luis. He will hold you to them," she chastised.

Doctors diagnosed Elena with MS ten years ago. It wasn't so bad back then. She had symptoms, body aches, fatigue. She has her good and bad days, but they have been worse as of late. Especially since she had Luis.

When her no-good on-again, off-again boyfriend found out she was pregnant, he took off. He didn't want to deal with a child. Elena stayed with Abuela all this time and I've taken care of both of them financially since we all left Mexico. I came to the States, since I had a bounty on my head, and they went south to Venezuela. It was safer for me to stay away from them.

"I promise to come visit." I laid my hand on my chest. "And if I don't visit, then I promise to bring the family up here."

Elena was silent, I could almost hear her grip the phone.

"What?" she finally uttered through the phone.

"I'm onto something big. If I can secure this job we will be set. I'll get you all up here with a green card and everything. Make it legit. Abuela will be happy, you can be more comfortable, Luis will get better schooling—"

"You can't keep doing this," Elena said, sadly. "Abuela is getting older, she just wants to see you, she doesn't want you doing what you've been doing—"

"I can't visit much more; it's dangerous," I interrupted. "Every time I come it's a risk."

I make my family meet me in the countryside of Venezuela at a cottage. I can't take the risk of them to getting caught with me. My enemies could find them, hurt them, kill them. I would never let that happen.

"It's for the best to get you all up here. I'm going to get this done. Give me a month and I'll have this guy."

I could hear Elena's big, hooped earrings clinking against the phone.

"Sí, chica es loca, you know that? I can't believe I'm related to you."

I scoffed. "Yeah, your older, cooler sister, who is going to kick some major ass. Now, are you ready for the name of this guy?"

My sister had one request of me when I started the job: she wanted to know their names. It was like she wanted to bear part of the burden; of knowing who was going to come into custody with me, or die.

"Yup, let's hear it." She perked up.

"I only got a first name. He apparently doesn't have a last name."

"Makes it all that much better. Might be a code name."

I snorted. "Lame. Anyway, the name of the guy I'm after is—Locke."