“He’s flying out to Denver tonight for two weeks for meetings,” she says. “Your brothers are going with him. They’ll leave straight from work. Just you and me. Okay?”
The prickle of tears stings my eyes and I don’t know if it’s the Tully kicking in or the situation in general, or Mom’s attempts to pad the trap to help soften the blow. But I viciously blink them away and take another bite.
“The fucker who grabbed me wouldn’t let me get my bike,” I say. “Left it behind even though I asked to get it.”
“Oh.” She studies her hands for a moment. “Do you think it’s still there?”
I shrug.
After a moment of contemplation she says, “I could drive you. Would it fit in the trunk of my car?”
“Probably.”
At least she understands how important it is to me. It’s not the bike—I’m sure if I want a bike I can ask for it and it’ll practically materialize within hours.
It’s that it was my money that bought the bike. And it represented my freedom. My silent rebellion.
My silent “fuck you, old man” message, which I knew grated on my father’s nerves.
She reaches over and brushes her fingers across mine where they’re tightly clasped around the neck of the bottle. “Finish your sandwiches and we’ll go get it. I’ll change clothes.”
“Can I bring the bottle?”
She nods. “Sure, honey.”
Chapter Four
Mal
Exposed
I know, I know. That’s backstory. So how’d I end up here, on the run in a shitty hotel room?
Well, that’s where the careless part comes in.
Miracle of miracles, my bike was still there. Mom had to help me load it into her trunk because I was on bottle number two of Tully at that point and falling-down drunk.
Quite a feat for a shifter. I wanted to relish it because I knew I’d be sober again in an hour or two.
We did more shopping on the way home. She stopped by the bank for a cash withdrawal and then bought me a new laptop, tablet, and phone.
I had a feeling the reason was so Dad wouldn’t have a chance to put tracking software on any of them.
And while the new phone was in her name, it wasn’t on the same plan as the others.
By the time Dad and my brothers returned from their trip, I had a haircut and new clothes. Lana Chastain visited our house twice with just me and Mom to talk, and we laid down the ground rules of this little charade.
No, Lana wasn’t any happier about this arrangement than I was. Except on her end it was worse, because her parents wanted her to marry me and start popping out Sterling grandpups as soon as possible instead of “wasting time” going back to college. Her parents were in the dark about Dad’s offer, I guess.
At least, that’s what she and Mom thought.
Honestly? I wasn’t so sure. I’ve been screwed over enough by the old man to assume there were hidden levels to this that I didn’t know about. Like he let me have enough rope he could easily bind me and Lana together so we couldn’t escape.
Especially if he was planning a run for Congress.
Tom, Dick, and Harry—as I refer to my brothers, whose real names are Thad, David, and Harrison—are all married. Thad’s wife, Brynnella, is pregnant with their first pup. As I understand, David’s and Harrison’s wives are trying to get pregnant.
From little things I’ve heard, however, I have a feeling they aren’t trying nearly as hard as my brothers think they are.
