Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“You’re not my dad. I needed that job.” Her defensive tone told Street a lot.
Lucien’s voice captured his attention, “We’re on our way. Try not to kill each other before we get there.”
When the line went dead, Street pulled up Wraith’s number and started a text message. “Give him your address and what you need.”
“How’s he going to get in?”
“Don’t worry about that. Wraith is a problem solver.”
Shaking her head, Rosa entered the information and returned the phone to him. Curious, Street glanced down and froze. Her address was in the worst part of town. She only asked for one item—a stuffed black panther.
He didn’t look up as he kicked himself. That statement about him not being her dad. The stuffie. Was she Little? A flare ignited inside him. This immediate draw he felt to a total stranger had baffled him. Now, that attraction made more sense. His Daddy side had reacted before his drugged brain could process Rosa’s hidden appeal.
“Don’t make a big deal about it. Inky is the last thing I have from my childhood. I won’t abandon him.”
Her defensive expression told him not to say any more about Inky. “Understood. Can I get some more water? Did the old man leave any food?”
Her shoulders relaxed back into position, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Having to ask for help from a bunch of guys she didn’t know for something they might make fun of was gutsy. If Inky wasn’t of dire importance to her, she wouldn’t have given the stuffie a second thought. Suddenly, he cared about the fate of the stuffie way too much. The heat of her slight body next to him drew him toward her. Street locked his muscles in place, fighting his attraction to this woman. He didn’t want to scare her.
“What do you think about canned meat or microwave mac and cheese?” she asked.
“Sounds like a complete meal.”
She grinned at him. “Maybe even a feast.”
“Lead on, Rosa. I’ll cook for us. The guys will take a while to get here. Wraith will circle around for a bit to make sure no one follows them from your place.”
Rosa nodded as she led him into the sunlight. Street shielded his eyes from the bright light as he glanced around at the quiet farmstead. A cottage badly in need of paint, a barn that had seen better days, a well house, and the dead skeleton of a rusted-out tractor. “I don’t have anywhere to be on a time schedule. My job is toast.”
“What will you do? Do you have a car near the bar?”
“No. I don’t have anything like that. I walk or take the bus when I have the money to spare.”
“That’s not safe, Rosa,” Street said, picturing what that neighborhood must be like after dark.
“They’ve robbed me enough that they know I don’t have any money,” she said, shrugging as if the threat was no big deal. Her acceptance of living in danger tore him up inside. But her eyes shifted from his, cluing Street in that she hadn’t told him everything.
“We’ll talk to Lucien about getting you a job.”
“You owe me something,” she said, challenging him.
“Do you want money?” Street asked, watching her closely.
“I want Inky. Then maybe you could get me a bus pass to get out of town,” Rosa said.
Immediately, Street wanted to keep her close so he could protect her…. And, he didn’t want to lose her. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, Rosa.”
She twisted her lips into a grimace. “For some people, living threat-free is a pipe dream.”
“Let’s fix some food. Everything gets better with a full belly,” Street said. When she agreed with him quickly, Street guessed hunger wasn’t a new problem for her. Noting her dull eyes, he vowed to find out her story and provide some hope for her future. Right now, her only goal was to survive.
Chapter 2
Street helped wash and dry the dishes after their meal. Rosa restored the kitchen to a better state than when they arrived and mentally thanked the elderly farmer who’d treated her kindly for helping her one more time. She’d met him one Tuesday afternoon as he struggled to heave a bag of fertilizer into the bed of his pickup truck. Without thinking, she’d grabbed the bottom of the bag and hoisted the heavy package to help. He’d insisted on buying her lunch.
They hadn’t chatted much as they’d eaten the most delicious burger she’d had in years. She’d figured out quickly that he despised small talk as much as she did. Rosa had returned the next week at the same time to assist again. She and Eddie had fallen into a routine that repeated for several months as she helped him load feed, seed, or other supplies into his truck.
His health had deteriorated quickly that winter with a cough that she suspected was more from the cigarettes he smoked than a seasonal bug. When he hadn’t shown up one Tuesday, she’d convinced the feed store owner to let her peek at the old man’s account information. He wouldn’t tell her the farmer’s address, but if she happened to see it, that was on her.