Angel Smits - Seeking Shelter

“That’s sure one pretty bike.” The man’s gaze roamed over the Harley’s body almost as if it were a woman.

“Yeah. You should see her when she’s cleaned up.” The chrome and denim-blue paint were covered in road dust at the moment. “She was running rough out in the desert. I let her go as far as I could.”

“Been pushing a ways? Whatcha think’s the problem?” Rick crouched down next to the bike, peering at the engine with a practiced eye.

“She needed a tune-up a while back. Sounds like a plug, maybe a plug wire that’s toast.” Jace knelt beside him.

“I think it’s more than plugs, but don’t think I got this kind, anyway.” Rick leaned in closer, poking around in the compact engine. “We’d better look at the points and the generator. Nearest parts store is over in Gilcrest. That’s fifty miles. Could be a challenge to get it quick. You might be stuck for a couple days.”

Jace cursed. Getting the bike there, or the part here, wasn’t going to be easy. And that was if it was just the plug and wires. He sighed. He wasn’t really in a hurry. There wasn’t anything or anyone waiting for him in L.A. And he had business here, anyway.

“We got a problem?” Another man’s voice cut through the desert heat.

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Rick stood and glared at the other man. He didn’t seem much older, but Jace couldn’t tell for sure, as a worn cowboy hat shaded his eyes. The badge on the man’s shirt proclaimed him the local law. Jace looked up at him from where he crouched.

Jace had had enough run-ins with cops to know they either trusted you and left you alone or they didn’t—and the latter could be pure hell. He’d learned long ago to keep a low profile until he knew which kind he was dealing with. Not always the easiest thing to do, but the wisest.

Rick interrupted Jace’s thoughts. “Gavin, quit being an ass.”

Jace turned his attention back to the engine, but kept his ears open. He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t here to get involved with the locals, at least not these two.

“Rick, I’m just tellin’ you. You need to be careful.”

Rick sighed. “If this town is going to survive, we can’t chase off everyone who comes to town who doesn’t fit your standards.”

Jace heard more than words in their conversation. He heard a history he wanted no part of.

Ah, small towns. He’d grown up in one. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. There were no secrets, no true privacy. He’d run away from just such a place when he’d turned sixteen. He was in no hurry to go back.

“It’s my job to keep everyone safe.” The lawman stepped closer, crowding Rick.

“Yeah, and you’re an elected official. Screw up and we’ll vote you out of office. We need people to come here. You like them tumbleweeds blowin’ across your doorway?”

As if on cue, one the size of a VW Bug chose that moment to meander across the wide street.

“Shut up, Rick.” Gavin had the sense to step back. He still loomed over Jace, though. “You just watch yourself,” he said in a low voice.

Jace resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and slowly unfolded his lanky frame. He realized that he was a good head taller than either man. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of my business as soon as I can, and be on my way.”

He didn’t explain that his business in Rattlesnake Bend was more than fixing his bike. He didn’t think good old Gavin could handle that piece of information.

Jace had traveled five hundred miles over the past two days to get here. He was tired and hot. No local yokel was going to get in his way, but he didn’t intend to get in theirs, either.

He took another glance around the deserted town and sighed. Just because he had the address didn’t mean Madeline Grey and her daughter were still here. He wished he’d pushed that attorney for more info, but then he’d probably still be in L.A. Behind bars, most likely.

All the way here, he’d thought about Mac’s family, wondering what the heck to say. He still hadn’t figured it out.

Until he did, he wouldn’t start asking questions, even if one of these men could give him answers. He could wait a little longer. Until he knew the lay of the land and the mood of the people, he’d keep his business to himself.

Jace stood watching as the lawman strolled away, little puffs of dust rising up behind his boot heels.

“You can leave her here, and I’ll call over to Gilcrest to check on the parts, if you’d like,” Rick offered.

“Thanks.” Together, they pushed the bike inside one of the bays.

“Be a shame for something to happen to such a pretty girl.” Rick grinned as he eyed the bike with that same sense of awe. Jace almost felt sorry for the man’s wife, if he had one. She hadn’t a chance measuring up to the machine. The mechanic pulled down the old garage door to block the bike from view.

“The diner open?” Jace didn’t remember how long ago he’d had breakfast.

“Not till five. Lunch rush is over. Caryn heads out to her place to take care of her horses this time of day. There’s stuff over at the grocery you can eat up quick, though. Just stay away from anything in the front counter.” Rick shuddered and then laughed as he walked back into the air-conditioned glass box that served as the office for the station.

Jace headed toward the tiny grocery store. He was surprised to see that it had a screen door, and the old Rainbow Bread sign on the handle had seen better days.

The wood frame slapped shut behind him, and Jace blinked several times as he stepped into the comparatively dim interior. The air was blessedly cool, and he thought he’d stay right here forever. Finally, his eyes adjusted, and he was pleasantly surprised at the neatness.

It wasn’t kitschy or frilly, as so many small-town shops were. Only the roadrunner wallpaper up near the high ceiling gave an indication anyone had tried to decorate in anything but stock and boxes.

Three aisles lined with well-filled shelves ran the length of the building. Canned and boxed goods sat like little soldiers in neat rows.

The counter stretched across the front, including a glass case filled with pastries and other baked goods. Next to that, a glass meat counter glistened under the fluorescent lights. A giant meat slicer and state-of-the-art steamer sat behind it.

A young woman stood behind the displays. He wondered if she was the owner or just a clerk. She didn’t seem old enough to own a business, but looks could be deceiving. A hunk of meat lay on a wooden chopping block, and she held a cleaver in her hand. She brought the blade down with a loud whack. At first she didn’t look up. Good thing, too. It could have been disastrous.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she turned around. Her voice was warm, but there was a wariness in her eyes. She took a step forward, keeping the counter between them.

She wasn’t tall, but her stance was straight and proud. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail with enough pieces left loose to fall down around her face in a golden cloud. She stared at him with wide green eyes.

She wiped her hands on a rag, and he saw that the once-white apron she wore over her jeans and T-shirt was stained with red, like the butcher he remembered Mom going to back home. A hundred years ago.

He couldn’t help but smile. It made him think of the millions of campy horror movies he’d seen. He loved those movies. It’d been a while since he’d seen one.

He shook his head to focus on the now. He’d spent way too much time in the sun.

Jace squinted at her, trying to read her expression. She wasn’t old enough to be Madeline’s contemporary but maybe she knew the daughter. “Yeah. Thought I’d get some supplies.” He indicated the aisles with a tilt of his head.