Chapter 8

The late afternoon sun slanted across the windshield as Thomas and his motley crew of friends barreled down the highway, the roar of their engines and the raucous laughter filling the cab. It had been a rowdy day—Thomas had tried to work, but the endless nagging of his so-called pals made any concentration impossible. So, like a herd of wild stallions, they’d swept out of town and were now on a convoy headed for Bachelor’s Village, each car hugging the tail of the one in front.

At the head of the pack rode Riley’s sleek coupe. Its polished black hood gleamed in the dying light, and every time Riley braked, the others followed suit, until finally all the vehicles pulled to the side of the dusty road and ground to a halt. Engines ticked as they cooled, and the small circle of drivers and passengers spilled onto the gravel shoulder, sneakers crunching, beer bottles rattling in pockets.

Curiosity rippled through the group as they ambled forward to see why Riley had stopped.