He tried to drown me.
It makes me wonder what sort of storm Koyn is. A powerful hurricane like my father? A tornado like Magna? Or something more cataclysmic. Something earth changing. A violent volcano, rumbling the very foundation I stand on.
His palm covers my thigh and he squeezes it in a reassuring way. The simple, brief gesture has my heart tightening in my chest. I don’t like the way he can silence my fears with a touch.
A healthy dose of fear has been what’s kept me alive this long.
I don’t need someone silencing my inner warning sirens, because who the hell knows what sort of trouble would sneak up on me then.
I’ve had enough trouble for one lifetime.
I need to always be ready for it.
Koyn
I stand inside the open truck door with my hands on the top of the frame as I lean in to talk to Dragon and Copper, my cigarette dangling from my lips. Bermuda took the girl to the restroom. He looks the most like a good ol’ boy. Dragon and I stand out as possible psychopathic kidnappers to the normal public. Definitely a good idea Bermuda took lead on this stop.
“Anything yet?” I ask my brother, nodding at his phone as he scrolls. I blow out a plume of smoke over the top of his truck and then flick my cigarette across the truck into the gravel.
“Nah. When we get back, I’ll get on the computer and run through all my channels. Putnam is off the grid.” Copper scrubs at his face with his palm.
“I’ll stay on Junior’s social media and check to see if I can pick up any clues there,” Dragon offers. “Putnam was a ghost, but we found him. We’ll find him again.”
I glance over at the McDonald’s and wonder what the fuck is taking them so long. If she tried to run off, I’m going to make good on my promise to whip her ass.
“What about Hadley? Anything on her?” I arch a brow at my brother.
“Without a last name, it’s difficult. I’ll run a search on all the missing person reports with that name, but you’d probably get further than me on this.”
I’ll find out where this little girl came from and send her back, even if I have to spank the answers out of her. I’ve done a lot worse in my lifetime. This is a cakewalk.
As though I have a sixth sense, I feel Hadley when she exits the restaurant. Bermuda is beside her, grinning. He may be wearing a leather cut, but his worn baseball cap, holey jeans, and shit kickers make him look like the Oklahoma boy next door. In an alternate reality, those two could be siblings maybe. I track her with just my gaze, watching her every moment.
The dart of her eyes to the tree line past the parking lot.
The fake smile.
The tensing of her muscles.
The slowing in her gait.
“Fuck,” I grumble. “She’s gonna run.”
I no sooner get the words out of my mouth when she takes off. The girl is tall and skinny, her long legs eating up the distance before Bermuda even realizes she bolted. Without another word, I tear off after her. I may be a lot older than her, but I’m not some fat-ass biker. I’m in shape and I can catch a little runaway like it ain’t shit.
Her brown hair billows out behind her as she seems to fly with inhuman speed. My boots kick up gravel behind me on my chase. I can hear Gibson and Bizzy laughing while Dragon catcalls me. Fucking bastards.
Hadley never makes it to the tree line.
I snag her by her hair, jerking her to a stop. She screeches, but I don’t relent. I drag her flailing body to my chest and bring my mouth to her ear. Her chest rises and falls with each ragged pant of breath.
“Stupid, child.”
“I’m not a child.”
“You are.”
“I hate you.”
I laugh, twisting my grip in her hair so my knuckles are against her scalp. “Fucking hate me. I don’t give a shit. You’re mine to look after and I told you running away wasn’t going to work for me, goddammit.”
“I’m not yours,” she says fiercely, emotion in her voice. “I’m no one’s. You made sure of that when you killed Junior.”
Here we go again.
I’m tired of hearing about that dumbass punk.
“You’re going to stop this shit right now. We’re going to hold hands like you’re my fucking girl and then we’re going to leave. You fight me on this and I’ll make your life miserable when we get back. Feel me?”
Her body trembles. “I won’t be your slave.”
I roll my eyes. Girl watches too many fucking movies. “You will if I demand it.”
My threat has its intended effect because she submits. Good girl. Her body relaxes as she mutters out an “okay.”
Releasing her hair, I grab her shoulders and twist her to face me. Her eyes are watery but no tears have fallen. In the sunlight, she has a few visible freckles on her nose and cheeks. It’s cute. Dark lashes bat against her apple cheeks and her plump lips are pursed together in a pout.
Blaire.
My sweet Blaire.
I’m struck by how similar they are. Dark brown eyes. Pale skin. Pert nose. My palms cradle her sweet face and I lean in so I can memorize every detail.
“W-What are you doing?” she whispers.
“Lookin’ at you, kid.”
“Why?”
“I like what I see.”
“You trying to make me your old lady?”
Her words jar me from my selfish little fantasy of where she’s Blaire and I’m her daddy and all is fucking safe and right in the world.
“What?” I hiss. “Fuck no.”
My words seem to wound her because she flinches. “Oh.”
The moment is gone. I don’t see Blaire. Hadley’s eyebrows are different. One brow is naturally arched in a way that seems as though she’s always giving you a challenging look. Her lips are redder, fuller—the focal point on her face. Even the shape of her face is longer whereas Blaire’s was rounder. Hadley has a harder edge to her—a more womanly aspect that my baby girl never had. Blaire was innocent.
Hadley is not innocent.
I clear my throat and step away. My thumb brushes along her soft cheek before I release her. Her brows furrow together as she studies me. I take her hand and thread it with mine.
“Smile and try to act as though we belong together,” I grumble.
She lets out an annoyed huff. “I took drama. I know how to act. In fact, that’s how I won Miss—oh. Doesn’t matter where. I won.”
This girl is slick.
“You were a pageant girl?”
“Junior and them called me Beauty Queen,” she says in a regal tone before flinching. “You can call me Hadley.”
“Pageant Girl fits you better than Beauty Queen.”
“It makes me sound like I’m a kid.”
“You are a kid.”
“You’re an asshole.”
I smirk and shrug. “Takes one to know one, PG.”
“Ugh,” she groans. “Don’t call me that.”
“Too late,” I say, letting go of her hand to swat her ass. I address my group of grinning brothers. “PG is ready to play nice now.”
“PG?” Gibson asks, scratching at his beard.
“Pageant Girl.”
Dragon whistles, half hanging out of Copper’s truck. “You gonna put on a show for us, PG?”