Pisses me off because it’s not like Brianna wants to live here. She merely took the first opportunity she could find to leave Wyoming as a means to punish me by taking my daughter away. The thing that sucks is she fully expects me to follow them here. She figures that I won’t stand to be parted from Zoey, and she’d be right about that. But the crazy bitch that she is, she sees this as me following “her” and not following my daughter. Still harboring hope that I’ll get back with her, but that ain’t ever going to happen.

That’s definitely something I’m going to set her straight on during this visit.

When Kyle found out I was heading east, he offered to go with me as he has a sister that lives on the coast of North Carolina in the Outer Banks. He took two weeks off from work, a move that did not go over well with his boss, since that also happened to be the same job that I just quit.

I met Kyle five years ago when I needed to get a new paint job done on my Heritage, which I had bought for a song and a dance on Craig’s List and rebuilt the engine myself. That landed me at Teton Choppers, a custom motorcycle shop offering full engine and bodywork services. Kyle was the manager and the senior man when it came to bodywork. He took one look at my bike and was extremely impressed with the rebuild I had done on the engine. One thing led to another and before you knew it, I was talking to the owner about my experience as a mechanic. Granted, everything I knew about engines came from my work in the motor pool while I was in the Marine Corps, but I found an engine is an engine is an engine. It just sort of makes sense to me and I have a knack for it, but most of all… I just like figuring out how to make things work right.

And because I absolutely hated working on my father’s cattle ranch in Wyoming, I was more than ready to make a move. Much to my dad’s dismay, I started working at Teton Choppers as a mechanic and gave up my legacy as a cattle rancher.

Well, I gave it up temporarily. Whether I can walk away permanently remains to be seen, but that’s another story for another day.

Kyle and I head up to the second floor of Brianna’s building. My nerves hum with anticipation, a mixture of frenzied excitement to see Zoey and anxiety over having to deal with Bri’s shit that I’m sure I’ll be handed in spades.

When we reach the second-floor landing, I immediately see the door to her apartment with a note attached to the front. Warning bells go off inside my head, because nothing is ever easy when it comes to dealing with Brianna.

I stalk up to the door and snatch the paper, which is held in place by a piece of transparent tape.

Tenn,

Change of plans. Kip got discounted tickets to Disney World, and we’re taking Zoey there. We’ll be back next week and you can pick her up then.

Bri

My hand squeezes the paper, curling it into a tight ball within my grasp.

Motherfucking son of a bitch.

“What is it, dude?” Kyle asks from behind me.

I ignore him and pull my phone out of my pocket, stabbing at the screen with my finger until I pull up Brianna’s contact information to dial her. As expected, she doesn’t answer but lets the call go straight to voice mail.

After I listen to her short message, I grit out my own. “This is fucking unacceptable, Brianna. You knew I’d be here today for Zoey, and you had no right to take her. Call me back ASAP.”

I disconnect, knowing she won’t call. She’ll ignore me, playing her stupid and sick little mind games that I suffered under for the nine years we were married. And continue to suffer under as a way to punish me for having the audacity to divorce her ass.

Pushing my fingers through my hair, I blast out a frustrated huff of air. “Zoey’s not here. Bri took her to Disney.”

“What the fuck, dude?” Kyle growls. “The bitch knew we were driving cross country and would be here today.”

“Yeah, she knew,” I say tiredly as I make my way back to the staircase that leads out to the parking lot. With heavy feet, my steel-toed boots clomp loudly down the cement steps as Kyle follows along behind me. “Said she won’t be back until next week.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Guess I’ll just get a hotel. Check out the area since I’m considering a move here.”

Fucking bitch.

“Look man,” Kyle says as we reach the bikes and he grabs his helmet from the handle bar. “Ride with me to the Outer Banks. Hang out on the beach for a week and relax. No sense in staying here by yourself.”

I glance back up to Bri’s apartment, anger still gurgling like acid in my gut. I should have known it wouldn’t be easy. She’s so full of herself. I know she thinks I traveled all this way for her… like some dog sniffing after a bone. It would never even occur to her that I’m here for Zoey and nothing else.

I slide my gaze back over to Kyle. “Yeah… okay, sure. Got nothing better to do right now.”

“Fucking aye,” he says with a grin. “We’ll cruise the coastal highway, drink beers, and watch babes on the beach in bikinis. It will be epic.”

Chuckling, I grab my helmet and put it on my head, fastening the strap under my chin. “Babes in bikinis, huh?”

“Can you think of a better way to spend a week?” he asks rhetorically just before starting his bike.

I follow suit and our engines roar to life, causing me to yell to be heard. “Let’s ride, man.”

It’s only about a three-hour ride straight east from Raleigh over to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Kyle’s sister, Andrea, just opened up a law practice there a few months ago, and I’m actually curious to meet her. She was apparently an FBI agent working criminal cases in Pittsburgh but decided to give it up and use her law degree instead. I find it interesting that Kyle and his sister were, for a time, on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to the law, and yet, they seem to be pretty tight.

My love of motorcycles and the freedom of the ride pretty much goes no further than the fact I own a Harley and I work on custom-built choppers. Kyle’s goes a little further in that long before I met him, he patched into a motorcycle club called Mayhem’s Mission that’s based out of Jackson, Wyoming. The owner of Teton Choppers, a grizzled, old military veteran that earned the nickname ZZ because of his long ZZ Top-like beard, employs quite a few members from the club. ZZ isn’t part of Mayhem’s Mission, but he also doesn’t seem to have a problem with them either, seeing as how they provide a lot of his recurring business.

I’m not exactly sure if there are any criminal workings inside of the club. I’ve never asked Kyle and he’s never volunteered, but I have to think there’s something going on there because Kyle carries a gun on him at all times as well as a burner cell phone in addition to his regular one. Doesn’t take an advanced degree to know something shady goes down, but it’s none of my business. He doesn’t bring that shit around our workplace and otherwise seems to be a solid dude.

Kyle rides ahead of me and by my calculations and the fact that I can smell salt on the air, I figure we’re getting close to the ocean. He’s a classic biker. Arms raised in the air as he holds onto his ape-hanger bars, long, blond hair flying behind him. The skull on the back of his leather vest leers at me… a creepy, hollow-eyed skeletal head with pointed teeth dripping blood and flames leaping from the eye sockets. I think it’s a patch that’s designed to inspire fear in the average viewer, but it doesn’t affect me in that way. I’ve come to know quite of few of the guys that ride with Mayhem and while some could be considered a little certifiable, they’re mostly dudes that share a love of Harleys and the lifestyle that comes with riding them.