by Zoey Parker
She shook her head. “I just thought you could be my step-mommy, that’s all.”
“What about your real mommy? Don’t you love her anymore?”
“I love her. But I don’t think she’s ever gonna come back.”
My blood ran cold. She sounded so sure. “Why do you say that?”
“When she would walk me to school, she would always say, ‘See ya later.’ When she left me here, she said ‘Goodbye.’”
“Oh, honey. That doesn’t mean you’ll never see her again. She’ll come back for you.” I didn’t believe myself, but it didn’t matter. From the look on Gigi’s face, she didn’t believe me either.
Chapter Thirteen
Lance
My heart sank when I pulled up to Rae’s house. It was so tiny, dirty looking. It made me think of the house I grew up in with my mom. They could have been the same house, with the same dirty siding and the same broken shutters. The same dead lawn. No toys out front.
I looked around. There wasn’t anybody outside, which worked for me. I needed to get inside the house, and I didn’t feel like getting caught doing it. Who would believe the criminal was breaking in to find out where his baby mama disappeared to?
First, I looked around. I decided to go through the back door—less chance of getting caught that way. I stopped at the front window with the broken blinds first, looking in. The house was dark, just like Jamie said it was on Friday. “Where are you, Rae?” I muttered as I looked through the window.
I walked around to the back door, hopping the chain link fence with no problem. The storm door didn’t have glass in it—just an aluminum frame. What was the point? I worked the lock on the wooden door and it opened with no problem. After one more look around to be sure nobody was watching, I went inside. I didn’t think anybody would call the cops even if they did see me breaking in—it wasn’t the sort of neighborhood where people looked out for each other. They knew better than to keep their eyes open. It was easier that way.
The kitchen was tiny, dirty, and pretty much empty. I couldn’t help but look in the fridge to see what was inside, and I scowled when I saw mostly bare shelves. A tiny bit of sour milk. A splash or two of orange juice. Takeout containers, probably empty or moldy—I didn’t have it in me to look inside. The smell was bad enough.
The cabinets were practically bare, too. How did either of them live? I remembered how Jamie told me about the two lunches she would make, one for her and one for Gigi. She probably kept my daughter alive. I would have to thank her for that.
The only other room on the first floor was an open living room, with space for a dining room table. The table was old, scarred, covered in junk—magazines, ads, newspapers, empty cereal boxes. The living room was pretty empty except for the couch and a small TV. There were ashtrays around the place, all full. My stomach turned. I told myself to stop looking around, since all it did was piss me off. I couldn’t help myself, though. I needed to know how my daughter lived.
I walked upstairs. Rae’s room was at the end of the hall. It was like I expected it to be—pretty much empty. Just the necessities. A bed, a small dresser. A bare overhead bulb. I shook my head in disgust.
The only other bedroom on the floor had to be Gigi’s. The door was closed. I turned the knob, closing my eyes. Preparing for what I would see on the other side.
What I found was the biggest surprise I could imagine. It was beautiful. Pink walls, pink sheets and blankets. A TV and DVD player, with stacks of Disney movies on top. Toys, books. That much, she actually tried to give her daughter. Of course, the kid spent most of her time in her room, with mom getting high downstairs. I hardened myself against her again. I couldn’t let myself feel sorry for her or think she gave a damn about the kid. I thought back to the empty refrigerator. If she gave a shit, she should have made sure there was food in the house. That was more important than pink walls and stuffed animals.
I went back to Rae’s room and opened the closet, the drawers. There was hardly anything in there, but was that the norm? Or did she pack up to leave? There was no way to tell, though I thought the room would be a little messier if she left in a hurry. It might have been empty, but it was tidy enough. Unlike the rest of the downstairs, which was a shithole.
I went downstairs. It was obvious she hadn’t been back to the house. The place was dark, dusty. Cold—the heat was off. Was it ever on? I looked around, sad and angry at the same time. She never even told me she had a kid. Like I couldn’t have given Gigi a much better life than she had. It was insulting.
The dining room table caught my eye. There was a stack of mail on it.
I looked at the front door—a mail slot, but nothing on the floor.
She was here. Otherwise, there’d be a pile on the floor.
I went to the table, flipping through the stack. Some of it was postmarked as late as Friday. “Damn it!” I whispered. She had been there over the weekend. Or maybe even earlier in the day.
Underneath the mail was an envelope with a picture of a bus on the front. Greyhound. I picked it up, opening it. It was empty except for a receipt. For a bus ticket.
“Shit!” There wasn’t any information on the receipt except for a ticket number. I wondered if I could look up the information for the ticket using the number. I raced out of the house, back to my bike. I had to get to the clubhouse as soon as possible.
When I got there, I didn’t stop to say hi to anyone—even Gigi and Jamie, who were playing cards around the coffee table. They both looked at me, but I kept walking. I went into the office and closed the door.
My fingers were crossed as I went to Greyhound’s site and looked around. Where would I find what I needed? Manage Trips. I clicked on it and filled in the confirmation number from the receipt. Bingo. There it was, the information I needed.
Fuck! She bought a bus ticket to New York just that morning. It was scheduled to leave in five hours. “I just missed her,” I whispered. She must have gone back to the house to pack a few things, picked up the mail and left the sleeve for the ticket on the table. I would have completely missed her if I didn’t look at the mail.
I sat back, wondering what to do. I had to go to the bus station to find her. That was the only choice.
I went out to the lounge, looking for Flash. I had to come up with a plan to track and corner Rae. “Where’s Flash?” I asked.
“He went out to get some sandwiches and stuff.” Jax looked me up and down from where he sat at the bar. “You look like shit, man.”
I glanced at Gigi, then back at him. “Oh, sorry. You look bad.” He looked at Gigi. She smiled. He actually smiled back.
“Yeah, well, I don’t feel so great.” I took a bottle of water out of the cooler behind the bar. I needed to get my head on straight. What would I do once I found Rae? What if she ran? What if she wasn’t alone? The Scarecrow might have bought a ticket for himself, too. No, that didn’t make sense. A ticket to New York told me she was on the run and wanted to disappear in a huge city. Why was she running? What the hell did she do?
Jamie stood up, facing me. “What’s your plan, Lance?”
I was not in the mood. I was not in the mood at all.
“What’s the problem now, Jamie?” I faced her, hands on my hips, mocking the way she stood. Why did everything have to be a fight with her?
“What did I just ask you? What’s the plan? Do you even have one?”
“What do you think I’m working on? Do you think I’m going out to have fun?” I turned away, going back to the office.
“Don’t walk away from me.” I heard snickering and laughing around the clubhouse as Jamie followed me into my office, slamming the door so loud that the walls shook.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I faced her, eyes wide. “You’re crazy.”
“If I’m crazy, it’s your fault. You’re the one making me this way. I care a lot about that kid, and you’re keeping us both hostage here.”
“You’re not a hostage.”
“S
o what am I? What is she?”
“You’re in danger. How many times do I have to tell you? The faster you get used to it, the better off you’ll be. I can’t keep reminding you every fucking day that I’m only in this to keep you safe.”
“Oh please.” She waved me off. “You only kept me here in the first place to screw around with me. You teased me and messed with my head. It was a big joke to you.”
“And it’s a good thing I did that, isn’t it? If The Scarecrow is out there, looking for you or Gigi, this is the best place for you. I can’t tell you that enough.”
“How do I even know this Scarecrow person exists?”
I laughed. “Ask anybody here. They’ll tell you—unless you think we’re all in a big conspiracy to fuck with your head.”
“How do I know that’s not exactly what you’re doing? Fucking with my head? You always go out alone when you’re looking for him or Rae.”
“I took the guys with me on Friday.”
“Yeah, but you split up. I know you did. Don’t lie to me.”
“You’ve been reading too many mystery novels or something,” I muttered. I hoped she would let it go, but I could see she wasn’t in the mood to. I sighed. “I was just out today trying to find Rae. I was trying to find The Scarecrow. I toured a fucking heroin den, for Christ’s sake. It was awful. I don’t know how people fucking live that way, I really don’t. Then, I went to the house. And you were right—it’s the most goddamned depressing place I ever saw. No food, no nothing. I can’t imagine her living there. And now you’re in here, fucking with my head. I don’t have time for this right now, Jamie. I don’t. What do you want from me?”
It took a little bit of her anger away, but not much. “I want you to tell me when your daughter will be free to be a kid again. She’s miserable. She can’t even go out and play. How would you feel?
I rolled my eyes. “Do you think I give a shit about her going out to play right now?” I laughed harshly. “That’s the least of our problems.”
“It’s a problem for her,” she insisted. “I can’t exactly tell her she should consider herself lucky because her junkie mother might get her killed. To her, it’s a big deal.”
“You’re the one who wanted to take care of her. If you can’t keep her interested, that’s not my problem. You should work on that.” I brushed past her, which pissed her off even more.
She huffed and puffed, but it didn’t mean anything. She was hell bent on getting herself into trouble, and I was only trying to make sure she was okay. I never thought I would regret trying to help somebody, but it was just another example of why sticking my neck out was never a good idea.
She was totally wound up, not even making sense anymore. I watched as she ranted with a red face and wide eyes, arms and hands waving.
Finally, she stopped flipping out. “Are you finished?”
Her chest heaved as she breathed. I couldn’t help watching. She looked incredible. So fucking hot. I wanted to take her, but held myself back. The last thing I needed was for her to lose her mind because I touched her.
I talked instead. “I’m so close to finding out what happened to Rae. So close.”
“Really?” Jamie folded her arms. It only pushed her tits together. I took a deep breath, clenching my jaw to get the urge to pass.
“Yeah, really.” I leaned on my desk, breathing deeply. “I might be able to find her today. Okay?”
“How? Where is she?”
“The less you know, the better.”
“That’s crap. I deserve to know. This concerns me, too.”
“Bullshit. I’m not telling you, so stop trying. I’m trying to keep you safe, too, in case you forgot. You don’t wanna be mixed up in this.” I thought about the heroin den. “Those people I saw…you don’t wanna mess with them. You don’t wanna be anywhere around it. You’re better than that. Why don’t you understand I’m just trying to keep you safe?”
“By withholding the truth from me?”
“Be keeping you away from shit you don’t wanna be near. Shit I don’t want you even to know exists. The same thing with Gigi. I don’t want her to know people like that even breathe air. But she does. She shouldn’t. You’re right, she’s a little girl. She should be able to be just a little girl. I’m trying to make this right for her. I can’t have you standing in my face, challenging every fucking thing I do. I can’t get anywhere with you in the way. So you’re either gonna get out of my way, or help me keep her happy until this is over.”
She stayed quiet, which was a miracle. I must’ve said the right thing.
“I’m gonna go take a shower and try to sleep a little. I didn’t get much sleep last night—almost none at all.” I left her standing there and went upstairs. Before I did, I told Jax to give Flash the heads up that I was looking for him. “I’ll be up by three. We have to be at the bus station by four. I want you and a couple others with me. I’ll explain later.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding.
I ruffled Gigi’s hair and went to my room. I only had time to take off my kutte and my t-shirt when there was a knock at the door.
I opened it. Jamie was standing there. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just really scared right now. I don’t know what to do about any of this. It’s all new to me. I’m taking it out on you.”
I didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say, anyway. Instead of talking, I took her by the hand and pulled her into the room with me, shutting the door. She came willingly. And when I took her in my arms and kissed her the way I did in the office, she didn’t fight back.
Chapter Fourteen
Jamie
I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t want to stop him. I couldn’t even stop myself from wanting more. He pulled me further into the room, our mouths connected, until we stood next to the bed. Yes. This was happening. Just like I wanted it to.
His mouth moved against mine, his tongue roughly parting my lips. I responded eagerly, kissing him back just as hard until it hurt. All the passion that built up between us flowed through us then, and my heart thudded dangerously hard in my chest as we went on. His hands were all over me, touching me, fondling me, sliding under my clothes, over my clothes. My skin burned at his touch, but I wanted it. I wanted more. I held onto his massive shoulders just to stay on my feet. I felt like I might faint. The blood rushed between my legs, leaving me aching, almost in pain with need. Warmth flooded me, and I groaned.
He pulled his shirt over his head in one swift movement, and I took him in with my eyes. He was perfect—chiseled, toned, tanned. I ran my fingertips over his muscular frame, almost afraid to touch him. Like it was all a dream and I would wake up if I tried too hard. When I felt his heart pounding beneath my hand, though, I knew it was real. I dragged my fingers down his shoulders, his arms, as he leaned down to kiss me. He was real, and strong, and warm. Powerful. He could do whatever he wanted to me. The thought gave me a little thrill.
I raised my arms over my head, allowing him to slide my sweater up and off my body. He drew me close, kissing my neck again, then moving down to my shoulder as he slid one bra strap down my arm. I closed my eyes, sighing as his mouth traveled over me. He did the same to the other shoulder, caressing me with his fingertips before his lips did the same. He reached behind me, unclasping the hooks, and I let the bra fall from me. He looked at me, and I saw hunger in his eyes as his hands explored my full breasts. I groaned in approval as he fondled me.
His hands left me, but only for a second, because then he unbuttoned my jeans. I leaned into him, my hands running up his arms, my mouth trailing along his neck. He groaned when I sucked the skin between my teeth. I felt his pulse racing in his throat, matching mine.
He surprised me when he pushed me back, onto the bed. I landed with a squeal, and he grinned as he stripped off his jeans. We were both in our underwear as he lowered himself over me. I took his face in my hands, kissing him deeply. His need pressed against me, and I rolled my hips in a slow circle. He groaned,
thrusting his hips, rubbing himself on me as we kissed.
He broke free, kissing my chin, my jaw, my throat. I closed my eyes, reveling in the delicious sensation of his mouth on me. Every nerve was on fire, and I writhed beneath him as he worked his way down to my chest. I knew what was next, and I waited to feel his mouth on my breasts. But he waited, going even more slowly, inching down my chest. My heart beat faster and faster the closer he got. I arched my back, pressing myself against him—but he only went slower, grinning up at me. “Greedy,” he whispered, flicking his tongue over my skin. I groaned in frustration, my body already on fire.
Finally, he ended the torture when his tongue circled one stiff nipple. I cried out in relief as he sucked, flicking it with his tongue, kneading the other breast. Then he switched sides, moaning, grunting, breathing just as heavily as I was. I could tell how much he loved it, which only made me love it more.