Now that, I couldn’t do.
“You know I can’t watch all of them. They’d eat me alive,” I told her honestly.
Shiloh laughed again.
“Can’t you ask Reba to help you like she did last time?” She questioned.
I grimaced as I swung into the parking lot of The Dixie Wardens MC clubhouse.
“No can do, baby. Sorry. Reba and I just called it quits about twenty minutes ago,” I informed her.
There was a moment of shocked silence as my daughter processed that.
“I thought y’all were doing good?” Shiloh asked quietly.
I shrugged. “She’s getting back with her ex. The daughter gets out soon.”
Shiloh knew the story.
Reba had been very open with her daughter’s struggles.
We all knew the whole tale.
I’d been new in the Benton area, so my daughter hadn’t been here when it’d all gone down.
She was aware of the talk, though.
The town was stuck in the past, reliving memories of that night often.
It’d been a big deal for the town.
The family that had died that night had been celebrating their daughter’s graduation by going out for ice cream.
The parents of the girl, and the girl’s boyfriend had been in the Bronco, with the boy driving.
It’d been raining and visibility had been poor, and the accident had been brutal.
I’d remembered that clearly.
The aftermath had been what rocked the town.
The girl had just been accepted to Columbia University and would have been leaving later that month.
The girl’s boyfriend had already been attending Columbia University on a scholarship for football.
He’d been a star quarterback, and the college community had felt that loss throughout their world.
The real reason, though, that the community kept bringing it up, was because of the parents.
The father had been a teacher at the high school, and the mother had been a teacher at the elementary school.
The same teachers who’d taught the girl who’d killed those four people.
“’Yo!” Loki called, interrupting my thoughts. “What are you doing?”
I looked up in surprise to see four men staring in my direction.
Loki, Trance, my son, Sebastian, and Cleo.
“What the hell do you care what I’m doing, boy?” I asked.
It was a decent question, though, so I’d give him that.
But I was the president of The Dixie Wardens MC.
If I wanted to sit on my bike in the forecourt of our clubhouse in the rain, then I fucking would.
Simple as that.
“You got a call a couple of minutes ago from a man named Bonus,” Sebastian said from his position under the porch roof.
I nodded.
Bonus was my contact/handler.
I was a retired CIA asset, but occasionally they had need of my… services.
I didn’t offer them lightly, so they knew to call me only when they well and truly needed it.
I’d earned that right.
And the agency knew it.
I also had a kid that hated for me to prove it.
“Thanks,” I said, getting off my bike and pocketing the key in my jeans.
They all nodded at me as I entered the clubhouse, and I walked straight to my office.
I called ‘Bonus’ back immediately.
“It’s about time,” the man on the other end of the line said.
I laughed. “You told him your name was Bonus?”
Lynn laughed. “Well, you lot seem to like going by funny nicknames, so I decided to give it a whirl to see how I liked it.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Lynn,” I said, taking a seat in my office chair and punching on the computer. “What the fuck do you want?”
Lynn sighed and leaned back.
“You told me if the name ‘Shovel’ ever came back online again, I was to let you know immediately. So here’s your call letting you know immediately,” Lynn said dryly.
The breath in my lungs froze, and my eyes went far away as I tried not to vomit at hearing that name again.
“Tell me everything.”
Chapter 2
If the trailer’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’.
-Bumper Sticker
Sawyer
Officer Donner’s hands ran longingly over my hair, and I squeezed my eyes shut and I prayed.
I’d made it eight years without being raped.
Please don’t let it happen in the last twenty minutes I’m here.
A fight broke out in the yard, and the sirens started to wail as the security personnel started to swarm the area.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. Maybe we can meet up on the outside, make this real,” Officer Donner whispered.
I wanted to puke.
“See you soon, sweets,” he said as a parting gift, then left me to finish packing my few belongings.
“You’re welcome, bitch,” my cell-mate, and second best friend in the world, said to me.
Ruthie, Ruthann Comalsky, had been my cell-mate since I’d entered the wonderful world of Hunstville Women’s Correctional Facility eight years ago.
She’d had my back when guards tried to rape me the first day I was there.