“Hiya, sweetie,” he drawled.
I gripped Clara, gently pushing her behind me again.
“Don’t you talk to her,” I hissed.
My body was already thrumming with adrenaline, knowing that we were in danger. I was practiced at reading Waylon’s body language, the glint in his eyes, the energy he radiated that stuck to your skin like oil.
He was worse than I’d ever seen him. Drunk. Possibly destitute.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” he yelled, leaning forward. “You ruined my fucking life. My trailer got repoed because ofoutstanding debts.”
I ached to tell him they were his debts that he tried to pawn off on me and not my fault. If we were alone, I might’ve let my anger make me stupid enough to stand up to him, finally. But I wasn’t alone.
Protect Clara. That was the goal.
I didn’t want to look away from Waylon, not even for a second, but my eyes ached to go toward the truck idling in the parking lot. To the man in it.
Surely Beau was watching us.
He must’ve been distracted by something. There was no world in which he’d see Waylon approach and not come running over here like a bat out of hell.
Even if he was distracted for a bit, surely he’d feel the need to look over at us soon. Watch us.
Save us.
“We can talk about this, alone,” I told Waylon. “How about you go and see your dad, Clara?—”
“No!” Waylon shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. He waved erratically with the hand that had been in his pocket. The hand that was holding a gun.
My body instantaneously froze in terror, and Clara whimpered behind me, pressing her small body into my legs.
I pressed her against me with one hand willing my body to be a shield against her. I had to wait. Stall. Beau would be coming. Any moment now.
But Beau wasn’t armed. He’d rush Waylon anyway. He’d sacrifice himself for Clara.
Clara would have to see that.
I wracked my brain for an option, one that would keep Clara safe. Keep Beau safe.
“Okay, how about I come with you, wherever you want to go?” I said as calmly as I could manage. “Just you and me.”
Waylon stopped waving the gun, his eyes zeroing in on me the best they could in his substance-altered state.
He considered it. Then he shook his head. “You don’t mean it. You love thebrat.I know. I’ve been watching you.”
He’d been watching. And he had chosen now. He could’ve gotten me when I was alone, but he didn’t. He had some kind of horrible plan. And it included Clara. My vision tunneled.
No. Clara was not going to survive a terminal illness, beating the odds just to have some asshole ruin her life. Over my dead fucking body.
“No. Your issue is with me.” I pulled back my shoulders, voicing the words firmly while meeting his eyes with fury.
Waylon leveled the gun on me. “I know, and I’ll ensure I get my own back. Give me the kid.”
I held Clara tighter. “No way in hell.”
“Give me the kid, or I’ll shoot.”
Beau must have been coming soon. Any moment.
