Page 47 of Twister's Salvation


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I looked up at Twister.

This man I hadn’t known that long, and yet…

“Promise you’ll be careful?”I asked softly.

He nodded, pressed one last kiss to my lips, then whispered, “I’ll come back to you.”

Then he was gone; the door clicked shut behind him.

The silence that followed felt deafening.

Gramps slid onto a barstool and leaned on the bar.“What do you need to know, sweetheart?”

I blinked.

Guess it was time to hear some stories.

My eyes drifted to the front door.

And the empty space Twister had just left behind.

“We might as well start with you,” I said, leaning on the bar with a smirk.“Why do they call you Gramps?”

Gramps tilted his head with an amused glint in his eye, sharpening.

“You good if I grab a drink?”Swift cut in as he stepped behind the bar like he’d done it a hundred times before.

I waved him off casually.“Help yourself.”

It was weird sitting on this side of the bar with someone else behind it.I was used to running the show, not lounging like a customer.Swift moved with ease, like he’d done this before.He scanned the fridge behind the bar.

“Snacks?”he asked and grinned like a kid who knew he was pushing his luck.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out.“There should be some cheese curds and beef sticks in there.Help yourself.”

He yanked the fridge open, rummaged through cans and condiment tubs before pulling out two packages and holding them up like treasure.

Gramps chuckled beside me.“I’m old, sweetheart.Gramps is pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it?”

I gave him a once-over and raised an eyebrow.“You can’t be more than fifty.”

Gramps barked out a laugh, low and rough like gravel.“I’ll let you keep thinking that.”

Swift dropped the beef sticks and cheese curds onto the bar with a thud and ripped open the packaging.I reached in and grabbed a cheese curd and tossed it in my mouth.Salt and a hit of nostalgia filled my senses.

“What about you?”I asked and pointed at Swift with a beef stick.

He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.“I’m just fucking fast, Tempi.Whether it’s on my bike, in a car, or even on fucking foot.”

“Well, that makes sense.”I snorted.“These two names I can wrap my head around,” I muttered.“What are some of the other guys’?”

Swift leaned an elbow on the bar, chewing thoughtfully.“Rev is the chaplain.Was a reverend before he took up the club.”

My jaw actually dropped a little.“Really?”

Gramps let out another chuckle.“Yeah, sweetheart.Though that’s about all any of us know.”

A reverend turned outlaw biker?That was a story I didn’t expect.My brain immediately started pulling possible reasons: scandal, loss of faith, maybe revenge.Something dark had to be buried in there.