Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
“Oh yeah?” I ask, lifting my drink.
He nods. “But most of ‘em? They’re saying you’re gonna outlast half the club now.”
I snort. “That’s not a compliment.”
“It is around here.”
I sip my drink and let the music roll over me. For the first time since I got on the back of that bike, I let my guard down. Just a little. Just enough to breathe. But breathing doesn’t last long. Not in this world. Not when your past is a shadow with teeth It happens fast—too fast for anyone to catch right away.
A black SUV rolls through the gate.
No one recognizes it.
Not right away.
Rex notices first. His hand moves subtly to his sidearm. A couple of the prospects edge closer to the perimeter. It’s all instinct now—centuries of outlaw tension packed into seconds.
Toon moves in front of me as Little Foot makes his way to me and then moves me behind him.
The SUV door opens.
And my stomach drops through the floor.
Because the man who steps out?
I know him.
Frankie.
He’s wearing clean clothes for once. Fresh shave. Gold chain around his neck. But I’d know those eyes anywhere. Cold. Hungry. Full of venom.
I feel my knees buckle, but I stay standing.
Little Foot tenses.
Frankie’s eyes find me instantly. He grins.
“Well, well,” he says, arms wide like we’re old friends. “Ain’t this a sweet setup. Your momma wasn’t lying this time about how you got yourself tied up good.”
Little Foot’s voice goes low. “You know him?”
I nod, heart in my throat. “He’s not supposed to be here.”
Rex walks up beside us. “Cambria?”
“I didn’t tell him where I was,” I say, panic creeping in. “I swear.”
Frankie laughs. “Baby girl, I got ways. You think you disappear and I don’t follow?”
Rex steps forward. “You’re on private property. You got five seconds to turn around.”
Frankie doesn’t move. “Just came to talk to her.”
“No, you didn’t,” Little Foot growls.
I step forward, even as my hands shake.
“This isn’t your life anymore, Frankie,” I say, trying to sound stronger than I feel. “You don’t own me.”
His smile fades. “You think this is gonna last? This little fantasy? You’ll be back in my pocket the second it falls apart.”
“No,” I say. Louder this time. “No, I won’t.” I feel Little Foot behind me, solid as steel. “I wasn’t in your pocket. Momma was and she stayed with you. Why can’t you leave me alone.”
“You need to leave,” Little Foot orders.
Frankie looks at him, then at Rex. Then he laughs. “You think this ends here? This ain’t over.”
But he gets back in the SUV. And he drives away. Just like that. The gate closes behind him with a heavy clang, and the party resumes—muted now.
Changed.
I stand there, shaking, until Little Foot pulls me into him and holds me like he’s trying to keep me from flying apart.
“You did good,” he says into my hair.
“I thought I was past it,” I whisper.
“You are.”
He pulls back, cups my face in his hands. “We’ll deal with him.”
And for the first time, I believe we will.
Together.
I feel like I can’t catch enough air.
Little Foot is watching me, leaning against his bike with that quiet patience he always wears like armor. Not saying anything, not pushing. Just waiting until I’m ready.
There’s so much I want to tell him. About Frankie. Does he know the man is a pimp?
For me, though, I have too many questions. How did Frankie find me? I didn’t even tell my mom where I am exactly. How did Frankie get such a nice car? He’s only ever driven busted up ones that don’t always crank to come see mom.
“It’s not you,” I say instead, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… sometimes it’s heavy. Everything I’ve been through. I don’t always know how to carry it.”
He steps closer, tilts his head until our eyes meet.
“Then let me help carry it,” he says. “Or… forget it. Don’t carry anything at all. Not right now. Just get lost in the night with me.”
My heart flips. That one simple sentence unknots something tight in my chest.
He kisses me then. Not hesitant or careful like before—but like he means it. Like he’s pulling me out of the wreckage of my thoughts and into something real. His lips are warm and certain, his hands framing my face like I’m breakable and strong all at once.
And suddenly, I don’t want to be in my head anymore.
“I want to go home.” I whisper. “To our home.”
We don’t speak on the ride. His hand rests on my thigh, grounding me. The world outside blurs, but in here, in this small space with him, everything sharpens.
The trailer is quiet when we arrive, all soft shadows and the scent of pine from the woods just beyond the porch. I follow him inside like I’m stepping into another life.
He turns to me once the door closes. “Cambria—”