Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Sleazy, fast-tail women have to have their say too,” I muttered, walking into the kitchen to whip us up some breakfast. Fast-tail. I never used that phrase, but it whisked me straight to the past. Again, that memory of escaping Rocket and hoping to find refuge in an LA church came to mind.
“Cutie Pie, get away from that fast-tail girl.” The older woman had called after the gorgeous honey-brown girl who’d ran out of the beautiful church after me. Sixteen and pregnant and unloved. A shame.
Even more shameful? Churches, despite their aesthetic beauty, harbored the most wicked people.
I’d never been to a church before, and the way they treated me … I’d never return. So, I’d thrown the teeny, old gargoyle, glaring at me beneath a wide-brimmed organza hat, the same loving glare she’d offered me all through service, then turned so fast my cornrows slapped my face.
“Cutie Pie, go back inside the church,” I said. The girl looked like that precious American Girl Doll that Governor Hagarty often pulled out when playing nice. Man, I’d loved that doll. Hated myself more after how compliant it made me. “Listen to your momma.”
The little girl shook her head, hazel eyes bright. “Uh-uh, that woman ain’t my momma. She ain’t even family. She’s just a church older. Um … elder.”
“Then listen to your elder. And don’t say ‘ain’t.’ You’re dressed too pretty for that mess.” I started down the steps, shuffling one flip-flopped foot after the other. Maybe that was why they gave me the stink eye? But I was wearing a dress.
Ugh. A cheap dress with spaghetti straps. And these stinking flip flops would be the reason me and my baby … I took a deep breath, wishing the anxiety away. I needed to find another hiding spot. Somewhere, Rocket wouldn’t find me. Or our child.
Tiny footsteps gave chase once I was a few feet away from the sidewalk.
“Wait.” Cutie Pie held up a gerbera daisy just as an SUV with flashy rims pulled to the curb. “We’re giving them to all the mothers.”
“Why?” My tone rose to an octave that made shame stamp my cheeks as I glared toward the cross above the church. I couldn’t turn around. Look into that vehicle.
“It’s Mother’s Day, and”—those sweet, big marble eyes dropped to my belly—“you’re a mommy.”
A whistle broke off from the SUV as I took the daisy into my trembling fingers. “Thank you.”
I spun toward the street. Rocket sat behind the wheel, his hand resting leisurely behind the passenger headrest, a gun partially concealed. He was bold like that. Or he didn’t suspect the gargoyle, too afraid to come closer, could see that far. The little girl was too short to peer in the vehicle. Just as I reached for the door, she lurched into my arms, offering me a hug.
The stiffest hug ever.
The only hug teenage me had ever received, so maybe I had nothing whereby to assess it.
As she clung to me, she spoke, her mouth practically warming through my womb because of how short she was. “I’m only supposed to give everyone a flower when they leave. You stepped out before the offering, by the way. That’s okay. Some rich people don’t even put a dollar in the bucket. But-but I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I asked, secretly reveling in the tiny arms wrapped around me.
“Sorry you didn’t have a childhood like mine. Anyway, He didn’t ask me to talk to you. He just told me to hug you.”
“Who?” My voice was barely a whisper this time. “Who told you to hug me?”
She’d smiled up at me. “Jesus.”
22
BIG BEAR
Jamie
“Enzo. What are you doing, man?” I asked, holding my cell phone to my ear. He’d called me the second I stood to come outside and think. The memories of Governor Hagerty had started forming fast, and I’d told him about it. He’d heard me screaming and fighting in my sleep during a mission, so he already had an idea. Now, he knew everything.
How Nolan manipulated me. How I placed distance between me and my clan because, beneath the anger and misunderstanding, I needed someone to rage on.
I’d raged on the wrong people. My … clan.
Sighing, my gaze fixed on the lake. Now, I saw a memory where my friend Lorenzo G. Ferri and I stood back-to-back, ensuring our survival. When I took a kill shot that could’ve taken him out, his nonna would bring me her famous lasagna. When he took a kill shot that had my name on it, well, I’d handle dinner and drinks. This Italian tossed back too many beers.
On the phone, Enzo chuckled. “If you need a play-by-play, okay, I got you. As we speak, I’ve opened my top load canvas—”
“Cut the crap.”
“—stuffing in clothes that I hope are clean. Combat Training 101: Unpleasant smells can reveal your location during war. Then I’ll catch the next flight to Los Angeles. Where I assume you’ll meet me since I’m not flying from North Carolina to San Bernardino, renting a car, driving up a mountain to taxi your—”