Page 174 of Property of Bob

He didn’t look angry. He looked exhausted and nervous. Very, very nervous.

His eyes moved from Anchor to Skull. Then Bob. Then they found me. “Ramona.”

Bob stepped sideways and blocked me.

I sighed. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Wade’s eyes widened. “I’m not here to hurt her.”

Bob’s voice was quiet. “You already did.”

Wade flinched.

Anchor folded his arms over his chest. “Who are you?”

“Wade Mercer,” he offered willingly.

“And why are you on my island?” Anchor asked.

Wade looked at me again. “I need to talk to Ramona.”

“You’re talking to all of us,” Bob said.

Wade swallowed. His eyes dropped briefly to Bob’s cut before moving to Anchor’s and Skull’s. “I figured.”

“You figured what?” Skull asked.

“That she came here because of you guys.”

“No,” Bob said. “She came here because of me.”

Wade shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and just looked defeated. “I don’t know what the hell you want me to say.”

“The truth would be a good fucking start.”

Wade’s eyes hardened for the first time.

Not angry exactly.

Defensive.

Then he looked at me again. “Can we talk?”

I stepped around Bob. His arm immediately came across my waist.

“I’m right here,” I told Wade. “Talk.”

He looked at Bob’s arm, then at Anchor and Skull. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured this going.”

I laughed once. “You broke into my RV. Twice. Followed me. Screwed with my tire. Then followed me all the way to an island run by a motorcycle club. How did you picture this going?”

Wade’s face fell. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Bob’s arm tightened around me. “Better start talking,” he growled.

“I was just trying to stop you. I just… I really fucked up, and I knew that you weren’t going to just let it go,” he confessed.