Page 8 of Renegade Rift
At least it wasn’t her tits.
Why am I even thinking about this?
Of course, at the thought, my eyes develop a mind of their own and fall to perfectly round twin breasts.
I quickly slam the traitorous things shut.
I’m going to hell.
This isn’t happening.
“Ford?”
I wince at the panic in her voice and slowly open my eyes to take in the horrified look on her face. My stomach churns as I send up a silent prayer to any god who might listen, begging that they take all these broken pieces snapping together and turn them into something other than a complete nightmare.
Unfortunately for both of us, none takes pity on us.
Guess it’s all up to me.
“Hi, Julietta.”
CHAPTER THREE
JULIET
My name.
I haven’t heard it in almost a year. Not since I disappeared.
It’s beautiful, in an almost depraved and desperate kind of way. My mind wants to capture the way it rolls off his tongue and horde the nostalgia that comes with it. The happy memories before life came along and tainted the syllables.
I always thought it would be my mom or dad, or maybe my brothers that would be the first to call me by it when we finally were reunited.
That’s assuming they still want to see me.
But that’s not the point.
The point is, I didn’t expect it to be Ford freaking McCoy who reinstated my being into existence.
Etta is strong. Julietta barely found a way to survive.
Damn it. I blink away the tears as panic grips my spine, replacing every ounce of confidence I possessed when I walked into Renegade Row.
I knew there was a possibility I could run into Tyler’s only surviving teammate. But it was a risk worth taking for the money. Plus, why would Bishop Lawson be slumming it on the Row when I’m pretty sure he has a penthouse on the upper east side.
Coming here today was supposed to be my first step toward my comeback era. It was meant to be the closure I needed, and easy money so I could pay off Tyler’s damn debt and forget every aspect of this team, this city, and how it ruined my life.
Of course, it couldn’t be that simple.
Of course,hehad to be here.
Tyler dubbed his name a curse word in our home. Only uttered when he needed to remind me exactly whose fault it was that he turned out the way he had.
I am my father’s son, but I only became that because Ford and his bitch of a mother left me in that house alone with him.
I always knew it was an excuse. That even though nature versus nurture is a thing, there was a dark part of Tyler that grew every year we were married. It wasn’t all because of his abusive alcoholic father. Choices were made every day to embrace that way of life. But I loved him. I thought I could change him.
Just like the look on Ford’s face tells me he believes he can change me.
