Inheritance [Michael Jackson FanFiction]

Chapter 6

"Grace... we need to get the hell out of here... Now."

His words sent adrenaline coursing through my body, the urgency in his tone leaving no room for any doubt. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest as I quickly rose from my seat, ready to follow his lead.

Michael threw some coins on the table in a hurry still holding onto his revolver. He visibly tried to act calm as we slowly approached the exit. With Michael holding the door open for me, we were just inches away from safety when a deep voice boomed across the room from behind us, freezing us in our tracks.

"There's no need to rush out" he rumbled, his voice surprisingly friendly given the circumstances. "You two look like you just came here."

"We're done here," Michael replied, his tone measured but guarded. "No need for any trouble."

The stranger's smile widened, but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that made me shiver. "I have no intention of causing trouble," he said smoothly, as he leaned back against the bar. "Got yourself a new lady Mr. Jackson?"

Michael glared at the man, and if looks could kill, he and his friends would already be dead. Before the conversation could escalate any further, Michael gently placed a hand on my back, urging me towards the door with a hushed command. "Let's go, Grace," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

As we moved towards the exit, the stranger's laughter echoed through the room.

"See you around, Mike!" he called out, his tone mocking and filled with a sinister edge.

Ignoring the taunts, Michael maintained his composure, his expression unreadable as he ushered me out of the saloon and onto the dirt road where our horses were waiting.

He quickly helped me mount up on Rachael before swiftly getting on top of Red and urging both horses into a brisk trot. As we travelled in the opposite direction of our arrival, we passed the general store with its weathered sign swinging in the breeze, the pharmacy with its colourful array of potions and elixirs displayed in the window, and the bustling stable where horses whinnied and stamped their feet.

My mind raced with questions about the encounter in the saloon. Who were those men? What was their connection to Michael, and why the rush to leave?

Before I could voice my concerns, Michael spoke, his voice tense with urgency. "You need to learn how to protect yourself."

I bristled at the idea. "I can take care of myself."

Michael's gaze held mine, his expression serious. "No, Grace. Those men back there, they're dangerous. They're part of Callahans gang."

"Who are they? How did he know your name?"

"Bill Callahan, sick son of a bitch ... Rape, murdering families .. you name it, he's done it ... And I think he's the one after your father's money.

I stammered, trying to find the right words. "How could you possibly know that? My father had nothing to do with them!."

"Because I saw one of them spying on us last night," Michael admitted, his tone grim.

My heart pounded in my chest at Michael's revelation, a surge of fear and disbelief coursing through me.

"Spying on us?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper as I struggled to process the implications of his words. "But why didn't you tell me?"

Michael's jaw clenched his expression tight with tension. "I don't know," he admitted, his tone heavy with frustration. "I didn't want to worry you for no reason .. But we need to keep moving, stay away from them."