Chapter 7: Dayton

"What is Dayton?" I asked Rafe, standing in his kitchen the next morning with my phone held out.

He was at the stove with a spatula, making eggs for two.

He didn't turn around.

The spatula stopped moving.

I watched his shoulders go up, and I knew I had said the one word that could.

"That's mine to tell," he said. "Not today."

"Boone says he'll tell the whole club."

"Then let him."

"Rafe."

"Rule four." He still hadn't turned. "You said you wouldn't ask."

I had.

I put the phone down on the counter.

"Okay," I said. "Then I'll find out some other way."

He turned the burner off, put the eggs on a plate and set it in front of me.

He ate nothing himself.

The Riders met every Tuesday at the lodge.

It was a low brown building outside Marlow Gap with a gravel lot and a flag.

I had cooked for it twelve years.

I drove the old truck there alone, and I parked where everyone could see it.

Inside, thirty men sat on folding chairs with paper cups.

Boone stood at the front with a gavel he didn't need.

Krista wasn't there.

The room went quiet when I came in, and the quiet lasted all the way to the front row.

"This is a closed meeting," Boone said.

"I've cooked for it every Tuesday for twelve years," I said. "I'll stand in the back."

I stood against the wall, with my hand on the small of my back.

The vice president got up without a word and gave me his chair.

I sat.

Boone looked at him, and the vice president looked at the floor, and that was how the meeting started.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Biker Who Drove Her Away from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.