Sal jotted down the address for him when he finally stopped laughing.
He looked down at the piece of paper. “What the fuck do they wear there?”
That made Sal laugh all over again. “Camo. Lots and lots of camo.”
“I’d talk as little as possible and keep your thick Italian accent to yourself. They’ll probably fucking shoot you there.” Lucca actually laughed a little when he told him the last part.
Vincent stood, storming out. “Fuck off.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Leather and Tats
Lake walked into the diner behind her grandparents’ house. She had left Kansas City the week before, coming to the only place she had family left—Treepoint, Kentucky.
If she was honest, the thought of living in Kentucky had made her skin crawl at first. She hadn’t been sure what it was going to be like, but she had known without a doubt that she wasn’t going to be in Kansas City anymore. Lake was born a city girl; therefore, stepping into a very rural small town was a bit of an adjustment. I think that’s an understatement.
Lake had called her father when she got home, but he had pushed it straight to voicemail. She cried hard at having to tell her father she was leaving through a voicemail. That was the hardest thing she had ever done. She didn’t tell him where she was going, afraid Dante might use it against him. The less he knew, the better.
Her father had kept an old piece of paper with a number hidden in a box with old stuff. She remembered him revealing to her the contents of the box once when she was a little girl. He had showed her the pictures of him when he was younger, where he had lived before his family had moved out to Kansas City, and he had even kept pictures of her grandparents. She wouldn’t have known whose number it was if he hadn’t written, ‘crazy fucking mother,’ above it.
Thankfully, her grandmother had answered, and then Lake had packed a bag and hopped on a bus straight there. Granted, she did have to beg them to come out. She could say they had been slightly paranoid about the mafia and life in general. Lake had simply told them she was trying to find a better life away from the mob, and she had assured them no one was looking for her. Basically, I just lied my ass off.
She had sat in the back of the bus, silent tears rolling down her face with Kansas City in the distance. It wasn’t leaving the city she was born and raised in behind that had destroyed her; it was leaving Vincent.
As bad as she wanted to hate him, she couldn’t. She cared about him, whether she wanted to or not. What’s more, she had shared with him something very special that she could only experience once. It didn’t matter how much time would pass, no one could never forget about their first. It was an impossible thing to do.
Thankfully, the waitress came and took their order, relieving her of her thoughts of Vincent.
“No, no, no, no!” her grandmother cried, looking at the door.
Lake turned her head to see a huge gang of bikers walk into the diner. From what she had gathered from her grandmother’s ranting, they called themselves ‘The Last Riders’ and owned some kind of survivalist company. Only in fucking Kentucky could you hear something as ridiculous as that.
When they pushed a bunch of tables and chairs together, her grandmother stood up. “We’re getting the hell out of here.”
Lake’s eyes grew big with how loud she had said it. Getting up, she watched her grandparents scurry out of the place so fast only the ding of the bell had her realizing they had already left.
Walking toward the door, she couldn’t help looking at the table full of bikers and their women, who had clearly heard and watched the whole thing. There was a sweet blonde with twins at the end of the table who had particularly looked upset.
She found her feet had stopped moving, feeling terrible for her grandmother’s actions.
“I-I’m sorry. My grandmother is, well…”—her eyes drifted slightly away from the blonde and onto some of the rough, tough-looking men in leather before she snapped them back to the pretty blonde—“um, old.”
“I completely understand.” She smiled softly, shooting the men around the table annoyed glances at their laughter. “I’m Beth.”
“Hi, I’m Lake.” She smiled back; the woman’s was contagious.
“I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new to town?”
“I’m just visiting my grandparents for the summer.” She watched the waitress come up and ask if they were ready to take their orders. “Well, I will get out of your way so you can eat.”
“You’re welcome to stay and join us,” Beth said. “If you had already ordered, she can bring it out with ours.”
Lake bit her lip, contemplating if she should stay. She did feel bad that the waitress had probably already put their order in, and at least her food wouldn’t go to waste. Even though the bikers looked scary, they couldn’t possibly be too bad if they had children at the table.