Edge Of Fear (Arrow's Edge MC Book 4) by Freya Barker (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

“You too,” I manage before Tse pulls me along, weaving through the diner to an empty table where Arlene is already waiting.

“You can pick from the menu or trust me to order for you,” she says when I take a seat.

With the intense way she scrutinizes me, I get the feeling this is some kind of test.

What the hell, I’m already living on the edge today.

“Sure, you pick.”

She doesn’t say anything but gives me a tiny nod before turning to Tse.

“You’re lucky I still remember what you like.”

“Missed you too, Arlene,” Tse calls after her, as she makes her way back to the other side of the diner.

Her hand appears over her shoulder, the middle finger clearly extended, and I start laughing. It feels like I’ve landed in a sitcom.

Tse is grinning when I turn to him.

“I know it’s hard to tell, but that woman has a heart the size of an ocean.”

“How do you know them?”

“Years ago I was on a ride, saw this place and stopped for a bite. Got to talking with Seb about ink, mostly.”

I look down at his hands where tattoos cover even his fingers. I can’t help wonder what the rest of his body looks like.

“Food was great, so whenever I was in the neighborhood I’d make a stop, we’d talk. Turns out we know some of the same people,” he explains.

“Small world.”

“It is, especially in this neck of the woods. Everyone knows everyone.”

The way he says that makes me think maybe he’s not originally from here.

“Is your family from here?” I ask, curious to learn a little more about him.

But when I notice the way his eyes drift outside and his expression becomes closed off, I’m not so sure he’s willing to share.

Tse

Not sure if I’m ready to get into the whole fucked-up childhood thing with her just yet, but maybe I can give her the basics.

“Not as far as I know,” I tell her, keeping my eyes on the road outside. It’s easier. “I was told I was maybe two months old when I was found in a trash can at a roadside stop along Highway 25 south of Pueblo, and still showing signs of drug withdrawal.” I hear her suck in a breath, but keep talking. “Grew up in the system. Homes, foster care, you name it. Don’t remember much of those early years, but I was a teenager when Nosh and Ouray picked me up and took me in.” I risk a glance at her and find those luminescent brown eyes full of emotion. “My life started here, the first family I knew was the club, so I consider Durango and this whole area home.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” she says softly, putting a hand on mine.

“Don’t be. It’s not something you bring up casually, but I don’t see the point of hiding it either. Quite a few of my brothers have a similar background. Heck, it’s the reason we take kids off the street. Most of us have been there.”

I flip my hand over and close my fingers around hers, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles. A delicate hand with long fingers and blunt nails that looks out of place folded in my broad callused one. I hang on to it anyway.

“Spinach, bacon, and Gruyère skillet for you.” Arlene slides a steaming cast iron skillet in front of Sophia, forcing me to release her hand. “And Tex-Mex for you.”

The one she sets in front of me already has my mouth watering. Hash-brown potatoes, scrambled eggs, beans, tomatoes, bacon, grated cheese, jalapeño peppers, and salsa.

“Oh my God. This looks amazing,” Sophia comments, and I catch the little satisfied smile on Arlene’s face.

That was a good call by Sophia to let her pick. Arlene is mostly bluster, kind to people she cares about, but she can get downright mean if she doesn’t like you.

I’m grateful for the distraction breakfast brings. It’s a temporary reprieve from the questions I expect Sophia to have about my past. Instead, she switches topics and asks me about the rally, curious to know what to expect.

We spend the next half hour making our way through breakfast while we chat, until Sophia sits back, her hand on her stomach, and groaning deep.

“I’m stuffed. I can’t eat another bite. I’ll be lucky if I still fit on the back of your bike.”

I chuckle at her dramatics.

“You’ll just have to squeeze a little closer.”

“Don’t say words like squeeze,” she moans. “How much longer?”

“Three hours, give or take.”

Her eye pop open wide. “That long? I thought you said three in total.”

“Yeah, but we took the long road. It’s prettier and I couldn’t resist having you plastered against me longer. Besides…” I wipe my mouth with a napkin and dump it in the empty skillet in front of me, while watching that easy blush color her cheeks. “…nothing much will be going on until after the noon hour. I’m pretty sure everyone is gonna need some time to recover from partying last night.”

“Okay, well, let me go splash some cold water on my face and we can get back on the road,” she announces, getting up from her seat.

I watch her move through the diner, taking in her long legs and hourglass figure, which look even better in the rare pair of jeans she’s wearing. When she disappears into the bathroom, I get up, pull out my wallet, and head to the counter to settle up with Arlene.

“Pure class, that one,” she says, handing me my change, which I promptly stuff in the tip jar. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Neither did I.”

_______________

We stop twice more.

Once at the Mobil station in White Mesa, and then again at Wilson Arch where I convince Sophia to climb up to the sandstone arch with me and have a lone hiker take a picture of us with my phone.

I think I have a handful of pictures on my phone that aren’t bikes, cars, or the Habitat