“You’re doing this for your brother?” I ask quietly.
“All of it.”
I know what that’s like—what I gave up for Paige. I know what it’s like to feel responsible for your sibling, to put family first.
“I’ll help you.”
“You say that, but I can’t see how you can. I have to do this. I have to find my brother, and what happens to me doesn’t really matter.”
“I’ll help you run. I’ve got the resources; I can help you get away from here and buy you time to find your brother until we figure out how to deal with the gang.”
She stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads.
“You would do that? Why?”
Good fucking question. I can’t think too much about why I’m helping a criminal break the bonds of their parole and hide from a gang. But when I look at Willow’s slender fingers with paint under the nails and her determined grip on the steering wheel, I know if I don’t help her, she’ll do it herself, and this woman is in no way equipped to take on a criminal gang. But with my resources and the help of some of my ex-Navy SEAL buddies, I can.
But it’s more than that. Protectiveness surges through my veins. She’s a woman in trouble, and not just any woman. She’s a woman with a pretty smile and a sharp wit who has gotten under my skin. There is no other choice.
“Take only what you need and put in in my pickup. If they know where you are, they may be looking for your car. I’ll have someone come back to move it into storage.”
She looks at me dumbfounded, but if what she’s saying is true, then I don’t have time to explain.
I stand up and bang the top of her car. “Let’s move.”
Willow springs into action as if waking from a dream, while I stride to the passenger seat and pull out her small backpack.
“I’ve got more stuff in the trunk,” she says, running around to open it. She pulls out a larger bag, and I heave them both into the pickup. Then she opens the back seat of her car and reaches for the easel.
“Only the essentials.”
She huffs out a breath but doesn’t argue.
A few minutes later, I’m cruising through town, heading to Bedrock Security with a woman who’s skipping her parole and a promise to help her. I’m already breaking the law by not turning her in, and I’m about to do a whole lot worse.
7
WILLOW
Not for the first time in my life, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing as Hudson turns out of the parking lot and we leave my Ford behind. He takes back roads, winding through residential streets at an easy pace, not drawing attention to us.
I’m still not sure if he’s taking me to the police station or helping me like he said he would. I steal a glance at his profile as he drives. His square jaw is set in a determined line, and he keeps his eyes on the road ahead.
All I know is that since he bundled me into his car, the heavy lump in my stomach that formed when I started getting threatening texts feels a little less tight, and I can breathe again.
After I ditched Janelle and the others this morning, I messaged the unknown number and arranged the package pickup. I figured if they thought I was cooperating, I would buy enough time to get out of town.
My brain was too frantic to think past that. Now that Hudson’s here, the relief of sharing the load has me sagging in my seat. I’mnot sure what resources he has that can help, but he’s a hell of a lot calmer than I am.
It’s just been Tyler and me since we were kids, so I’m used to making decisions on my own and taking action, even if some of those decisions weren’t the right ones. It’s nice to have someone else take charge. Someone competent and confident.
The road takes us out by the airfield, and we drive to a row of buildings on the far side. Hudson pulls up outside a building with a logo that reads Bedrock Security.
“I’ve got some friends who can help,” Hudson says before getting out of the pickup.
I watch him stride toward the building, wondering who the hell his friends are and what they do at Bedrock Security. This place could be some kind of cop shop, or it could be my salvation.
He turns to glare at me and lifts his shoulders as if to say, “Are you coming?”
