I close the door behind me.
“We’re going to Louisville.”
Her spine straightens.She knows the weight of that word.Louisville’s where my nightmares were born.Where I was born.What happened to me there was worse than anything that happened at Pearly Gates.And for a while that’s why the church was my salvation.
“Now?”she asks.
“Tonight.”
She rises slowly.
“You’re letting me out?”she asks quietly, suspicion threading through the question.
“I’m taking you with me.Undercover.”
Her eyes flicker.Hope and fear and excitement mixing like gasoline.
“Won’t the club be mad?”
“Let them.”
“And what do I get?”she pushes.
“Protection.”
She snorts.“Not good enough.”
I step in close, close enough that her breath warms my throat.
“One wrong move,” I growl.“And I’ll feed you to the Demon Leaper.”
We both remember the threat too well.
“Nah, I’ll just chain you up again,” I say quickly.
Her breath catches.She doesn’t back away.
“I’ll bring the cuffs,” she whispers.
I exhale through my teeth.This girl is going to kill me.Packing takes minutes.Two burner phones.My knives.A spare hoodie.The Glock under the seat.The false-bottomed box in the toolbox.
“Why ain’t we taking your Harley?”Becki asks with a gleam in her eye like this is a joyride.
“Joey is missing.I can’t ride back with two bitches.”
“You’ve got that right.”Becki slides into the passenger seat wearing an ol’ ladies’ ripped jeans, a tank, and one of my black flannels tied at the waist.The sleeves swallow her hands.She pushes them up to her elbows.She looks like sin pretending to be innocent.
The truck growls down the back roads, slicing through bare branches.
After a long silence, she shifts.
“You scared?”she asks lightly.
“Never.”
“You should be.”
She turns sideways, one leg tucked beneath her, the other sliding over the consol, closer to me.Too close.
