She’s looking over her shoulder. Suspicious. She’s always been afraid of my father. It must have taken a lot for her to show up.
The moment she sees me, her eyes go wide, assessing me. “You look good. I don’t care for the vest, or how much leg you’re showing, but you look good. Happy.”
I nod. “Happiest I’ve ever been.”
Her smile is sad, and I flinch when she hugs me, her grip too tight on my arm.
“Are you hurt?” she asks.
“I got shot.”
Mom’s eyes widen in horror and she turns ten shades whiter. Her voice is low enough to hiss. “You got shot?”
Sighing, I nod again, turning her with a gentle touch on her arm. “I’m fine. Don’t attract attention.”
She’s struggling with it, her eyes darting around before she falls into step beside me. Drifting slowly down the next aisle, I give her the time to come to terms with it. She doesn’t have long, but still, I don’t push her.
Finally, her shoulders pull back, and her spine straightens. “Your brother, he’s still wrapped up in the business. And things are getting worse. You know who is getting worse.”
I cringe because I know she means Grant.
Mom pulls a package from her purse. It’s my small stuffed bunny from when I was a baby. But a charm hangs around its neck that wasn’t there before.
She presses it into my hands, imploring me to be smart, like she used to when Dad would have one of his days.
Stay quiet. Stay hidden. Stay safe.
I nod.
“You’re sure you’re safe?”
“I am.”
She grabs me a second time, palm against my cheek for the briefest touch before it’s gone. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
And she’s speeding off after she releases me, nearly jogging out the door.
I tuck the bunny against me and grab a few small treats and check out with the twenty I snagged from Saint’s dresser drawer. I don’t think he’ll care, but now I need to find a way home.
Pulling my phone out, I hover my thumb over his number. Who to call? Which of my three men would be the least amount of pissed off about this?
Sighing, I know it’s a crap shoot. All of them are going to be pissed. Would Judge tattle? Probably. Maybe Reaper? He’s got a soft spot for me because his daughter is my age.
But fuck, I don’t want to get him in trouble.
As I step out of the dollar store entrance, strong arms wrap around my middle, lifting me off my feet. A hand covers my mouth, smothering my scream as it breaks free from my lungs.
Oh no. Not again.
29
SIN
Wren is in fucking trouble. I don’t catch her before she climbs onto the back of Buzz’s bike, before they speed off, but I do trail them…to the fucking dollar store. What does she need so badly that she couldn’t ask for it?
When she disappears inside and Buzz rides off, I dismount, ready to charge in and grab her, drag her back if I have to, but I pause at the sight of a woman who looks an awful lot like her. She peers over her shoulder, wary and frightened.
Mrs. Delaney. Wren’s mom.
