Saved by the Outlaw: Motorcycle Club / Hitman Romance by Alexis Abbott, Alex Abbott
Authors: Alexis Abbott, Alex Abbott
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hung out with some kids from that part of town who treated the abandoned industrial piping and building materials from deals gone bad like a playground like an obstacle course. We had all kinds of borderline dangerous adventures climbing on top of metal heaps and hiding inside huge cement pipes. That area always needed construction, always looked rundown and forgotten to some extent. And it kind of was.
Then I remember: a field scattered with old auto parts and tires, just a half mile or so from the docks. That has to be it. I used to hang out there as a kid sometimes, picking through the rusting car doors and endless nuts and bolts. My friends and I pretended to be scavengers, like we were going to find all the necessary pieces of a car and build one like Doctor Frankenstein or something. I smile at the memory. What a bunch of dorks.
I think I can still remember how to get there.
Carefully pulling out of the parking spot, I drive off in the general direction of the coast, passing by familiar old buildings and neighborhoods, most of which have fallen into some degree of disrepair. The old general store where I used to buy sodas and pastries looks almost dilapidated now, the roof sinking in from years of harsh weather and not enough funding to get it fixed properly. I shake my head sadly at the state of things. The town I left behind was a quiet one without a lot of prospects, sure, but I never thought I would return to find it in an even bleaker place than I left it.
When I pull up to the field, a wave of memories washes over me. I get out of the car, holding the journal in my hand as I carefully step over the termite-eaten wooden fence. It’s barely more than a few stubborn pegs in the grass nowadays, and as I look out over the field, I see that the car parts and tires have been cleared away at last.
“At least somebody tried to help out a little, I guess,” I mumble to myself.
But what could be the “something off” my dad suspected? His journal entry is short, but it’s easy to see that he was concerned about something going on here. I wonder if he ever made it out here to check. And if he did, what did he find?
Then I see it. Up ahead, there’s a wide patch of overgrowth that looks… strange. Unnatural. The whole field is overgrown, of course, but that particular part doesn’t look the same. I approach it quickly, tucking the journal under my arm. Up close, I can see that someone has obviously dragged a bunch of ripped-up plants and underbrush from somewhere else and dumped it here. I kick my way through this shoddy covering to see a plot of recently upturned earth. The dirt looks rather freshly placed, as though someone were trying to bury something.
“What the hell?” I breathe, my heart starting to pound.
Did I just find a shallow grave?
I start to feel dizzy and sick to my stomach so I immediately turn and bolt back to my car. I don’t know what could be buried there, but I know one thing for sure: I am going to find out.
10
Leon
I can’t get her out of my head. The more I try to push the thought away, to stuff the feelings into the same box I shoved all the rest of my good memories of this town before it all went to hell, it just floats right back up to the surface, harder and stronger than before.
She’s something else entirely. For her to come back into my life here, now, with everything that’s going on, I feel like I’m trying to ride out a storm inside me. I’ve always been the one who can handle these kinds of things. This is unbelievable. I’m the president of the Union Club, and one woman from my adolescence gets me turned inside out. She’s getting in my way in more ways than one, and the only thing worse than that is the fact that I don’t think I mind her doing so very much at all.
Right now, I’m trying to get the thought of her out of my mind while I read over research on James & Son Realtors, a company that’s trying to sell off that big plot of land near the water.
Then I remember: a field scattered with old auto parts and tires, just a half mile or so from the docks. That has to be it. I used to hang out there as a kid sometimes, picking through the rusting car doors and endless nuts and bolts. My friends and I pretended to be scavengers, like we were going to find all the necessary pieces of a car and build one like Doctor Frankenstein or something. I smile at the memory. What a bunch of dorks.
I think I can still remember how to get there.
Carefully pulling out of the parking spot, I drive off in the general direction of the coast, passing by familiar old buildings and neighborhoods, most of which have fallen into some degree of disrepair. The old general store where I used to buy sodas and pastries looks almost dilapidated now, the roof sinking in from years of harsh weather and not enough funding to get it fixed properly. I shake my head sadly at the state of things. The town I left behind was a quiet one without a lot of prospects, sure, but I never thought I would return to find it in an even bleaker place than I left it.
When I pull up to the field, a wave of memories washes over me. I get out of the car, holding the journal in my hand as I carefully step over the termite-eaten wooden fence. It’s barely more than a few stubborn pegs in the grass nowadays, and as I look out over the field, I see that the car parts and tires have been cleared away at last.
“At least somebody tried to help out a little, I guess,” I mumble to myself.
But what could be the “something off” my dad suspected? His journal entry is short, but it’s easy to see that he was concerned about something going on here. I wonder if he ever made it out here to check. And if he did, what did he find?
Then I see it. Up ahead, there’s a wide patch of overgrowth that looks… strange. Unnatural. The whole field is overgrown, of course, but that particular part doesn’t look the same. I approach it quickly, tucking the journal under my arm. Up close, I can see that someone has obviously dragged a bunch of ripped-up plants and underbrush from somewhere else and dumped it here. I kick my way through this shoddy covering to see a plot of recently upturned earth. The dirt looks rather freshly placed, as though someone were trying to bury something.
“What the hell?” I breathe, my heart starting to pound.
Did I just find a shallow grave?
I start to feel dizzy and sick to my stomach so I immediately turn and bolt back to my car. I don’t know what could be buried there, but I know one thing for sure: I am going to find out.
10
Leon
I can’t get her out of my head. The more I try to push the thought away, to stuff the feelings into the same box I shoved all the rest of my good memories of this town before it all went to hell, it just floats right back up to the surface, harder and stronger than before.
She’s something else entirely. For her to come back into my life here, now, with everything that’s going on, I feel like I’m trying to ride out a storm inside me. I’ve always been the one who can handle these kinds of things. This is unbelievable. I’m the president of the Union Club, and one woman from my adolescence gets me turned inside out. She’s getting in my way in more ways than one, and the only thing worse than that is the fact that I don’t think I mind her doing so very much at all.
Right now, I’m trying to get the thought of her out of my mind while I read over research on James & Son Realtors, a company that’s trying to sell off that big plot of land near the water.
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