I bite back what I really want to say in response—that Danny’s a cheating asshole and Raquel deserves so much better—and nod. I’m too tired to have this argument again. “Sounds like a plan then.”
She offers me a weak smile, a silent thank you for keeping my mouth shut about my opinions on her boyfriend. I have no doubt my friend knows exactly what Danny is, but the older man roped her in when she was barely twenty. She doesn’t know anything else, and now that she has a baby on the way, escaping him will be that much more difficult.
Raquel digs the key out from under the floor mat and sticks it into the ignition, the engine rumbling to life after a few seconds of clicking and sputtering. The smell of exhaust quickly permeates the passenger area, and I roll down the window, my sensitive nose already overwhelmed. Even with the window down, the smell is still enough to make me cough, but if we were followed from the casino, the car’s pungent emissions might throw off anyone trying to track us.
Well, anyone trying to track us with their noses, anyway. I’m sure Doyle has people who can track us down in other ways—that file folder filled with my past is proof of that—but we probably have alittle time until that happens. Time enough to get the hell out of Vegas. Hopefully.
Raquel pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street, hands tight on the steering wheel as she maneuvers the car through the light traffic. We travel in silence, my friend’s attention focused on the road or maybe just focusing on ignoring the words I’ve left unspoken. The radio is on the fritz, so the only sounds are the whoosh of the struggling AC and Wolfie panting in the backseat.
Eventually we reach the outskirts of the city, nothing but desert stretching out into the darkness a few blocks ahead of us where the signs of civilization end. Vegas doesn’t have suburbs in the way most major cities do, so there isn’t much beside sand and cacti past the city limits.
Raquel makes a right turn near a faded sign that marks the entrance of the trailer park where she lives with Danny. This place isn’t one of the luxury mobile home parks that have popped up in the last few years with pools and fitness centers. Desert Rose Trailer Park is little more than an irregularly shaped patch of sand and asphalt with nineteen trailers in various states of disrepair lining either side of the narrow access road. The only so-called amenity this place boasts is a rusty swing set on a slightly overgrown patch of brown grass. Still, this is better than the last group home Raquel and I stayed in—even taking Danny’s existenceinto account.
We pull to a stop next to the second to last trailer on the left, the bright yellow paint job setting it slightly apart from the dreariness of its surroundings. The flowers in the window box by the door are drooping, and the white paint on the tiny porch is peeling, but it’s in better shape than most of its neighbors.
Thankfully, the windows are dark and there’s no sign of Danny’s truck.
At least that’s one piece of good luck.
We pile out of the car and troop inside, Wolfie glancing at our surroundings as we enter, his ears swiveling and nose twitching. Raquel disappears back to the bedroom to change while I collapse on the couch with Wolfie curling up on the floor at my feet, the narrow piece of furniture too small for him. He almost immediately falls asleep, the tension in his muscles finally releasing as he fully relaxes for the first time since I’ve met him.
Smiling softly, I slowly lean over and run a hand over his fur, watching his chest rise and fall for a few seconds before settling back on the couch. Tilting my head back, I stare at the ceiling and question my life choices, or at least every choice I’ve made tonight, starting with the one where I didn’t simply tell Raquel to pick a different damn casino. So many problems could have been avoided but…
My gaze again strays to the wolf sleeping peacefully at my feet.It was all worth it.
A few minutes later, Raquel wanders back out to the living room in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. She’s released her hair form its constraints of bobby pins and hairspray and pulled it into a low ponytail, her face now free of makeup making her look even younger than she is. She bites at her lower lip then moves to sit next to me on the couch, leaning into my side as she tucks her legs up under her.
I curl my arm around her shoulder and rest my cheek against her hair, the sweet scent of her perfume lingering enough to tickle my nose.
“We never got to cash in our chips,” she says, nibbling at a nail as she stares fixedly at the floor. “Danny isn’t going to be happy about that.”
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself before speaking. “Danny can kiss my ass.”
Okay, not nearly calm enough, but I’m all out of fucks to give at the moment.
Raquel pulls away from me and settles herself against the arm of the couch, arms crossed over her chest in a defensive posture.
“Look,” I say, lowering my voice into what I hope is a soothing tone. “We barely made it out of that place alive. He’ll understand.”Not likely.
She eyes me for a moment before uncrossing her arms. “You think?”
No. Not even for a second.“Of course.” I give her my best reassuring smile. “I’m sure your boyfriend would rather have you in one piece than the money.”
Which is a big fat lie.
I’m not sure about that at all, but I don’t want to make her more upset. If I thought for a second she’d leave him, I’d have no problem telling her the truth. Unfortunately, at this point, that would only make her push me away, leaving her even more vulnerable and alone, the very qualities Danny preyed on in the first place.
As it is, I’m probably going to have to leave her behind for whatever comes next. The shifter world, especially after everything that happened tonight, is too dangerous for an unprotected human—and a pregnant one at that. Worse, “whatever comes next” isn’t likely to be going down in Vegas, and I have no idea where I might end up.
But I hate the idea of leaving her here with Danny. Maybe Ican—
Wolfie jolts and scrambles into a standing position, his ears angled toward the door as a low growl rumbles in his chest. The sound of a car door closing and the crunch of feet on gravel hits my ears half a second later. The person outside stomps up the steps to the trailer and fumbles with the knob, the sound of a key scrabbling in the lock accompanied by a familiar voice slurring out a few curses.
Oh, great.
Danny’s home.
Twelve
