Page 47 of Vandal Unbound

“Wild to think the club tended to avoid her, her being the sheriff’s daughter and all, until the whole Knox and the hurricane thing.”

The wordsheriffhits funny. I want…no, Ineedto keep my distance from law enforcement. Maren never mentioned what her father did. I have a fleeting thought of pulling out of my lunch date but there are threads everywhere now that make it impossible.

As the sheriff’s daughter, she could make my life difficult.

Her boyfriend is the president of the Outlaws, who could also make things difficult for me.

So I’ll go. But I’ll keep it short and polite.

Vandal looks around. “No Elsie today?”

I shake my head. “She’s gone with a friend to a petting zoo. She’s very excited about seeing llamas.”

Vandal reaches for me and loops his fingers around my wrist. His grip is gentle. “You know who she’s gone with?”

“I do.”

“She got a phone with her?”

I raise my eyebrow. “She’s five. She doesn’t have a phone. But there’s a tracker in her sneaker connected to my phone.”

“Okay, good,” he says.

“It’s nice that you’re concerned about her.”

Vandal rubs his thumb over my wrist. “Find myself worrying about both of you.” But the words are muttered, as if he didn’t even mean to say them out loud.

Then his eyes meet mine. Occasionally with Vandal, he’s like a blurry picture coming into focus. His eyes look softer, calmer even. Like for the briefest moment, the storm clouds have parted, and I can see into his soul.

“Did you drive?” he asks.

I shake my head. “It was a nice day, and I have time for once, so I decided to walk. Thank you for getting my car fixed and for everything else you did.”

“You’re welcome. And I feel better knowing you have fresh brake pads on it. The old ones were worn.”

I got new brake pads?

Wow.

“And I’m sorry. For what I said in the road about looking out for us. For asking if you were sober enough to ride with Elsie.”

“It is what it is.” He looks in the direction of the bikers who have long since disappeared. “You need a ride later, you call me, yeah?”

While I can’t see myself climbing on a bike in this dress…or ever, at all, it’s sweet of him to think of me. “Thank you.”

He starts his bike again. “Don’t walk home in the dark.”

“I have to pick Elsie up in two hours. We won’t be late.”

Maren pulls up on a bicycle and waves to us both as she pulls over and grabs a lock out of her backpack. She’s wearing her bait shop uniform—a pale blue polo shirt and denim shorts—and I suddenly feel overdressed.

Vandal squeezes my wrist. “Hey, Daze, take care of yourself. I’ll see you around.”

With the rev of his engine, he pulls away from the curb, and his broad shoulders disappear down the road as dust kicks up behind him. If I wasn’t feeling a little stirred before,watching him ride his motorcycle with the utmost competence is something else.

Then I remember I didn’t thank him for the groceries. “Damn,” I mutter.

Maren walks over to me. “They’re something else, aren’t they. I swear it’s about power. The power of the bike. The power of the man. Maybe something symbiotic…or probably something those sexual-psychoanalysts or whatever they’re called would have a field day with.”