Page 55 of Sunny Undone

I try to school my face but obviously fail, from the gleam of frustration in Dean Whitaker’s eyes. “Are they directly connected to my research?” I ask.

He shakes off whatever dusting of frustration he was wearing. “Certainly not. They just can’t be seen to be funding and supporting an empirical effort that may bring a fellow organization into disrepute.”

That sort of makes sense. But also, kind of doesn’t. “Wouldn’t it be in their best interests to rid the market of a rival?”

“Think carefully, Della. I’ll give you until the end of the week to think this through, but I will be accepting the donation and their terms.”

I miss cues, but the one from the dean telling me that we’re done for today is crystal clear. The chair squeaks when I stand, but as soon as I step out of the door, I open the Notes app in my phone and write down three words.

Velaro Coastal Group.

Because they just became my pet project.

I debate not going to get fresh samples but then jump in my car and drive to my usual parking spot in less than sixty minutes. I need to be there. I need to be outside. I need to think about my next move carefully.

Politics is not a game I play easily.

There is one other car there when I arrive, and as I head along the trail a few minutes later, another couple is headed toward me. We do the usual pretending not to see each other until the last possible moment, when we glance each other’s way.

“You want to watch yourself,” the woman says. “There’s a motorcycle gang blocking the path. We decided to turn back.”

At the mention of the motorcycle club, I’m momentarily excited. “You mean, just on the path?”

She shakes her head. “Blocking it. Asking why we might be going that way. You should probably leave it for today. We didn’t want to mess with them.”

“Did they threaten you?” I ask.

The man looks behind him, for a moment, then back to me. “Didn’t have to. Their body language said enough.”

I glance up the road but don’t see them. “Okay, thanks for letting me know. I’ll be careful.”

As I walk, I wonder how many motorcycle clubs there could be in this area. But my guess is they are Outlaws. And my heart starts to jump nervously.

Why are they here? Why are they stopping people from getting through? Have they gone to the developer and offered to provide security to the site? Is Sunny involved?

Because if he is, I don’t know how to compute what my response will be.

Frustration, obviously.

Anger, definitely.

But also, a deep sense of disappointment.

The two mean-looking men I see are unknown to me, but their patches tell me they are prospects, hopefuls for the Iron Outlaws Motorcycle Club.

Sunny doesn’t scare me the way these two men do. He’s as big and tough as the two men are, but there’s something…approachable about him.

I put my head down and plan to just walk on by, until a large arm snaps out and blocks my path. “Sorry,” he says. “No one can come through this path right now.”

My mind races with possible reasons as to why they are here. Stopping access to these places goes against everything I believe in. It’s important to find the balance between access and preservation.

Could it be the club was in on this all along? Oh my God, their land borders this. What if learning from me that the land might be developed made them decide they want to expand? What if they want to build houses for bikers and turn this into a massive compound?

What if they are killing someone down there right now?

For all Sunny appeared to be my friend, both he and Ridge were very clear that what they did to become one percenters couldn’t be discussed.

A wave of disappointment washes over me. However I look at this situation, Sunny and his club are about to ruin everything I’m trying to accomplish by blocking my access. And it’s impossible to reconcile the smiling biker who saw every step of our friendship…interaction…as something fun to enjoy, with a man who would make a decision like this to stop me from my research.