After speaking further with Elizabeth, I learned that Willow’s mother had been murdered right before her eyes. She had then come to live with her father, meeting him for the first time. Considering only a few months had passed, Willow was still desperately trying to acclimate herself to her new life. It would have been hard on an adult, but a five-year-old? It was almost impossible.
I was brought out of my thoughts by one of my students wiggling in his seat. “Miss Evans, can we go to the mat now?”
Laughing at his excitement, I nodded. “All right, let’s go work on the calendar.”
That afternoon, after I escorted all the second-load kids out to the bus lanes, I came back inside and went straight to my computer. Once I logged into the attendance program, I went to Willow’s name. Grabbing an apple-shaped notepad, I jotted down her address. I didn’t even bother with trying Elizabeth’s contact information. I wanted to go straight to the source. If I couldn’t reach her father by phone, then perhaps I was just going to have to track him down at his house.
I grabbed my messenger bag and purse and headed to my car. On the way, I typed the address into my GPS on my phone. It was another scorching late-September day in northern Georgia. The backs of my legs stung when I slid across the leather seat of my Accord.
After following the directions of the GPS’s monotone voice, I turned a few blocks and found myself in one of the seedier areas of town. Even though I hadn’t grown up here, Uncle Jimmy had made sure to always steer me clear of the area. He’d informed me that when the cotton mills had gone out of business in the late eighties, the area had rapidly declined. Crime rates had risen with the unemployment, and it was now inhabited by transient workers and the local motorcycle gang that I had seen from time to time on the road.
When I pulled up to a gun store and pawnshop, I glanced down at my phone to double-check that this was actually Willow’s address. Then I grabbed the Post-it note out of my purse to make sure I hadn’t entered it into my phone wrong. I couldn’t help feeling surprised that I was in the right place. Peering through the windshield, I could see that a shop had been made out of part of the old cotton mill. Next to it was the old mill’s office, which appeared to have been converted into some sort of roadhouse or bar.
Unease filled me the moment I shut the car door. Two men in biker boots and leather leaned against the wall of the pawnshop. With a forced determination, I pushed myself forward on shaky legs. As I approached the men, I could feel their heated gaze burning through me, singeing my cotton sundress as they stripped me down with their eyes. A shudder of repulsion ran through me, making me feel dirty and used.
When I met their hooded gazes, I plastered a smile on my lips. “Hello,” I said softly. As I reached for the door of the pawnshop, one of the men stepped in front of me. I couldn’t help jumping back, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a scream. He cocked his brows at me as he held open the door like a proper gentleman.
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks at my over-the-top reaction. “Thank you. You’re very kind,” I said as I hesitantly squeezed past his body into the shop. My heels clacked along the floor, and I nervously fidgeted with the strap on my messenger bag. As I glanced left and right, I didn’t see anyone behind the counter. “Hello?” I called.
A black curtain was shoved aside, and a tall, hulking man stepped out. Regardless of his enormous size, the kind expression on his very handsome face immediately put me at ease. “May I help you?”
Extending my hand, I said, “I’m Alexandra Evans. I’m looking for David Malloy.”
Instead of shaking my hand, the man crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head at me. “What do you need with him?”
Something about the man’s guarded tone made me uneasy. “I … uh, his daughter, Willow, is in my kindergarten class. She’s missed a lot of days of school, and I was worried.”
My response seemed to appease the man, because his muscular arms relaxed, and he finally offered me his hand. “I’m Nathaniel Malloy, Willow’s uncle.”
“Oh, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Same to you. Deacon—er, David—is actually at the clubhouse. I can take you there.”
The thought of entering the roadhouse alone made my skin crawl, so I was very thankful that Nathaniel was offering to take me. After he came around the counter, he opened the door for me. “Tiny, keep an eye on the shop, okay?” he ordered to the tallest and biggest of the guys. A nervous giggle escaped my lips at the irony of the man’s name.
As I walked next to Nathaniel, his towering presence somewhat overwhelmed me. He was all man, from his large hands and feet down to the musky smell that invaded my nose and messed with my senses. If I hadn’t been so out of my element, I would have been very attracted to him, even though his faded jeans, tight black T-shirt, and arms covered in tattoos screamed bad boy. But even in the few moments I had been with him, I could tell there was much more to him. The way he carried himself was like a cultured gentleman, not a hard-core biker. “Willow doesn’t say much, but I know she loves going to school.”
“She’s probably the brightest student in my class. Besides my attachment to her, I didn’t want her falling behind after missing school. Considering her potential, I think she could easily skip to first grade at the halfway point in the year.”
Nathaniel’s blue eyes widened. “Really?”
I smiled. “Yes, really.”