Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I’ve got no reason to worry, but I pull out my own phone and call Dakota, waiting for her to pick up. Except she doesn't. Not even on the second try. Something must be obvious on my face when I hang up, because there's understanding in both Stiff and Jackal's eyes when I look at them.
“Dakota?” Stiff asks.
I nod.
“Motherfucker,” Jackal lets out through clenched teeth.
37
DAKOTA
When Dillard makes us sit against the wall while he paces with his gun out, I can’t pretend it’s okay. Logan knows what a gun is, and this isn’t how you’re supposed to treat them.
Logan leans close. “Should we call the motorcycle men?”
Dillard eyes us curiously, but luckily I don't think he's taking Logan seriously.
“We can't, honey. Mr. Dillard took my phone, remember? We'll call them later.”
“But I—”
I give him the faintest shake of the head, and against all odds, he lets it be. I try to not let my sigh of relief be too obvious.
“I looked into you, you know that?” Dillard says, watching me. “I never understood why you didn’t push Georgia to make things official. You've been living with him off the record for four years now. I bet CPS would love to know that. When all this is done? I think I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping, and you'll never see the brat again. You'd fucking deserve it for all the trouble you've given me.”
Fear shoots through me like a bolt of lightning. Short of Logan being hurt, Dillard’s zeroed in on the most terrifying thing I can imagine. And if he gets away with this, he can do it.
“You know, it's funny,” he continues. “I think Georgia was actually trying to do the right thing for once. I know I bitched about the kid, but he’s the perfect little weak point. Every time she started looking like she wanted out, all I had to do was imply that something might happen to him.” He sighs. “I suppose watching me shoot a guy finally pushed her too far.”
“She loved Logan.”
Dillard shrugs. “As much as she could love anything, I suppose.”
“Did you… did you kill her?” It goes against everything in me to have this conversation in front of Logan, but this might be my only chance to find out.
He smirks in a way that is pure evil. “She thought she could run away from me. That she could expose me. That was her mistake. My mistake was that I thought she’d fold like usual. But then the little bitch made a run for it. I think the littlest inkling of maternal instinct kicked in, since she went straight for the preschool to take him with her. He wasn’t in the car by the time I caught up though, where’d she kick him out?”
“Where he’d be safe,” I spit out. “With the Outlaw Sons.”
“Bitch never got over that loser who knocked her up. But now she’s the same place he is, and I’m still here, baby. In the end I didn’t have to do anything, really. A little tap on the bumper and she did the work for me. But I had to check, right? See if she could still squeal. I wondered if I’d feel anything, but I didn’t.” He shakes his head. “Shame, she had great tits.”
It's probably good that he gets a phone call, because my self-control is slipping fast. He's a phone pacer, walking while he talks. Doesn't look like he's getting good news either, but when he paces it means he sometimes has his back to us.
I angle my face so I can try to hide when I whisper to Lo. “Do you know how to call the motorcycle men?”
He’s stuck to my side, his little body shivering occasionally while Dillard was talking. I don’t know how much he understands, but I know it’s enough to be scary. His head bobs in a quick nod. Just as Dillard turns to pace back our way, I give Logan a hug, trying to give the impression that I'm just comforting him. And trying to tell myself that this isn't going to be our last hug.
Dillard paces the other way again.
“Honey, do you remember the motorcycle game? Where you had to watch and do things at the right time? The next time that man turns away, I need you to run away as fast as you can and hide, okay? And then when you need to call the motorcycle men on your phone. Tell them we're near Auntie Georgia's house, okay?” I want to give more detailed directions, but there's no way Logan is going to be able to pass all of those on.
“Scared,” he whispers, pressing his face into my chest to hide.
“That’s okay. You can be scared and brave at the same time. Like when you started pre-school and you didn’t know anybody.”