Edge of Nowhere (Arrow's Edge MC Book 7) by Freya Barker

Author:Freya Barker [Barker, Freya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

In Provo. Catching 2 hours of sleep. Any word on location?

The last I ask because the address I was promised has not yet appeared in my messages. I set the alarm on my phone and intend to wait for a response but, already being horizontal, I can’t hold off sleep for long.

When my alarm wakes me two hours later, a short message is waiting for me.

Happys Inn, Montana. Mesg 1hr out.

I suspect the request for a one-hour warning was her father’s idea, and if I had to venture a guess, I’m not going to find Lindsey at Happys Inn. Can’t really blame the man, if I had a daughter in trouble, I wouldn’t trust me that easily either.

Thankfully the nap did me good, I feel a ton better. Refreshed, and ready to hit the highway. I make a stop down the road from the motel to fill up my tank. At the attached twenty-four-hour coffee shop, I buy a breakfast sandwich and a travel mug I have them fill with coffee. All fueled up, I hop on the I-15, which should take me all the way up to Butte, Montana.

The benefit of driving through Utah at night is avoiding the midday temperatures, which can get uncomfortably high. The roads are nice and quiet too, which means I make good time. The sun is only just starting to rise in the sky when I hit Butte, Montana, around eight in the morning.

I have to pee and wouldn’t mind some fresh coffee, so I might as well gas up again too. My Harley Dyna will do a hundred and eighty miles on a tank of gas, maybe two hundred if I squeeze it. That means I’ve already had to stop to fill up twice on the almost five hundred miles it took to get here since leaving Provo. If I’d known I’d be driving clear across the country when I left Durango, I might’ve grabbed a club vehicle to get more miles out of a tank, but that might also have meant being easier to track.

I pull up the GPS on my phone to check how much longer. Looks like I’ll be hitting Happys Inn at around two this afternoon, taking at least two more fuel stops into account. My fucking ass is already numb, but I’m not going to stop now.

It’s actually closer to one fifteen when I roll into Happys Inn. Not the town I was expecting, it’s basically a gas station, convenience store, and bar rolled into one. That’s it. A small collection of buildings, but nothing that looks like a town by any stretch of the imagination. I’m surprised at the number of vehicles parked in front though. More popular than I would’ve expected.

I pull my bike into an empty spot, but before I can dismount, I hear my name called. Owner of the voice is a guy, I’d guess late fifties, with gray hair poking out from under his black Stetson. As much as he tries to blend in with the locals, he stands out like a sore thumb.

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