Hell on Wheels by Julie Ann Walker

of the hour,” he said, “just what have you gotten yourself involved in?”

Chapter Five
    “That’s just it,” Ali threw her hands in the air, exhaustion and frustration making her voice crack. “I haven’t done anything. I’m a kindergarten teacher, for Pete’s sake. The most exciting thing to happen to me in recent months—apart from the stalking and mugging, that is—are the hardwood floors my landlord finally got around to installing. So, the more appropriate question is, what are you guys involved in, or perhaps more precisely, what was Grigg involved in that somebody thinks maybe I have something they want?”
    There was a sudden oh-God-nobody-move tension in the air. A real deer-in-the-headlights moment.
    Sheesh, they must think her completely blind or a total moron.
    From the moment she’d set the bug-detector they had mounted out in the front hall screaming, she’d known without a shadow of a doubt they were not simply motorcycle mechanics.
    Fed up with all of it, particularly with men who refused to believe she could keep a secret, she slammed her hands down on the conference table and stood. Her chair slid backward with a satisfying screech.
    “Look, goddamnit!” Six pairs of eyes flew wide. They probably thought there was some national law against kindergarten teachers swearing. “I know this isn’t just some custom motorcycle shop. How stupid do you think I am?” She waved a hand to indicate the bank of state-of-the-art computers and shot them all a look of disgust. “Did you suppose I’d think it was routine for a bunch of motorcycle mechanics to equip their shop with bug-detection devices? Not to mention the fact that it’s obvious you’re all loaded for bear.”
    Dan shifted in his chair, “Ali—”
    “You’re wearing a knife in the top of your right boot and a handgun in the waistband of your jeans,” she cut him off. It was clear, given all the raised eyebrows around the table, she’d managed to surprise them again, this time with the accuracy of her observation. Somewhat vindicated, she continued, “Nate’s got the same setup, only he keeps his knife under his shirt in a clip by his right-front pants pocket.” She turned on Frank. “ You aren’t carrying a firearm, but you’ve got at least two knives, one in your waistband and another strapped to your calf. I’m assuming there might be more in the careful way you arrange yourself when you take a seat, but I’m not totally sure.”
    “Damn, give the girl a gold star,” Becky laughed and winked at her in approval. “Big brother obviously taught baby sister a thing or two.”
    “You don’t even know the half of it,” she told Becky, feeling a smidge of camaraderie with the young woman. At least someone in the room seemed to be taking her seriously. “At least Ethan, er, Ozzie over there,” she hooked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the man, “doesn’t attempt to conceal his weapons.”
    “Call me Ozzie, doll,” he called back. He hunched over the keyboard like a starving man hunches over a plate of food. “And there’s no need to conceal my weapons. I figure everyone should see what’s in store for them should they attempt to fuck with me.”
    “Oh man.” Dan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Next thing you know he’ll be coming to work shirtless with bandoliers strapped across his chest and a red bandana tied around his head.”
    “Ah, so you have seen a movie or two.” Ozzie swiveled in his chair, his eyes sparkling with devilish glee. “ Rambo , huh? I can give you Rambo.” He lowered his voice. “‘They drew first blood. Not me…’”
    “What a crock of bullsh—uh, crap.” Dan scoffed.
    “Are you sitting there dissing Stallone?” Ozzie demanded, making like he was about to stand in defense of the Italian Stallion.
    “No. I’m sitting here dissing you , you stu—”
    Were they really going to banter back and forth like this and completely ignore the fact that she was mere moments