Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“It’s time,” I say, pulling my gaze away from the picture. “Put the horse down.” I leave the room.
By the time I reach the front door, I hear a pop.
Just one.
I feel it in my chest, a void that will remain that way for the rest of my life. My fingers knot in my hair, clenching it hard while I lower to my hunches. “I’m so s-sorry, Annie …” I cry.
“When I die, she dies. It’s an unstoppable order. It’s life insurance. Any way you look at it, Milo, freedom comes with a price.”
“If you had to choose … who would it be?”
I dispose of Ty’s body where no one will ever find it. He’ll become another missing person. And knowing who he worked for, no one will try to find him. Rae will grieve him, but she’ll know … it was always a risk to protect the devil himself.
And now … I wait.
38
NOT HIS TEARS
INDIE
“You look like her.”
I peel open my eyes, squinting against the sun, while I sit up on the worn leather sofa.
Yesterday, Ty pulled his truck over to the side of the road. My heart sank to the very bottom of my stomach. He was going to take me up on my offer, and I had second—third, all the way to a million—thoughts at that moment. Was I willing to give myself to him like that in the hope of real freedom?
I didn’t know. It came out in desperation.
Ty didn’t give me a choice in the end. He covered my eyes with a bandanna, tied my wrists, and drove. What felt like hours later, he dumped me off here—a trailer in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by construction and endless miles of trenches and pipelines.
Before I could ask one question, he climbed into his truck and sped away, leaving a cloud of suffocating dirt and no way for me to leave or contact anyone.
No one came to the trailer last night, so I fell asleep on the sofa.
The blond man with messy hair about the length of Milo’s and dirt all over his face opens a can of Red Bull and chugs it down in one shot. No doubt one of Fletcher’s men.
“Where am I?”
“Fifty miles west of Waco.”
“And you are?”
“Baylor.”
“And who do I look like?” I run my hands through my hair.
“Our mom.” He tosses the can in the tiny sink and wets a towel, rubbing it all over his face, removing a majority of the dirt but leaving a few streaks. With those two words, memories bubble to the surface like they’ve been suffocated for years. Repressed. Abandoned.
“Baylor, leave your sister alone.”
“Baylor, give her half your sandwich.”
“Baylor, did you push Indiana?”
“Three kids. Three dads. Same mom.” He shrugs before leaning his hip against the counter. “Rosa just graduated from medical school. She has you to thank for that. No debt.”
“Indie, Rosa’s in charge. Listen to her.”
“Indie, Rosa has homework. She can’t play now.”
Baylor chuckles. “You don’t say much.”
“Um …” I slowly shake my head.
“Gotta say, I wasn’t expecting this.” He pulls an envelope from his pocket. “Twenty grand to let you stay a few days then drive you to the airport and put you on a plane to Switzerland. Are you in trouble or going to some fancy spa in the mountains? I bet you’ve traveled the world by private jet or a yacht, huh?”
Switzerland? Fletcher’s sending me to the place where Milo and Jolene honeymooned. His deplorability has no boundaries.
“Who gave you that?” I find a stronger voice.
“The big guy in the black truck yesterday. Sorry, I had a late shift. You were asleep when I got here. Out hard. And you didn’t move when I left at four this morning.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve gotta get back to work. I just wanted to make sure you were good.”
“Um …” I try to keep my emotions in check. “Can you drive me to Dallas?”
He laughs. “Not today. I took Wednesday off to drive you to the airport.”
“Do you have a vehicle I can borrow?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. Just my truck, and I need it.”
“Can you call me a cab or Uber?”
Baylor continues to chuckle. “They don’t come out to these parts. Sorry.” He opens the door.
“Baylor?”
“Yeah?”
“How is she … um … Mom?”
He frowns. “She died ten years ago. Overdosed. The depression won.” The door shuts behind him.
On a shaky breath, I quickly wipe my eyes. It’s a lot. The past two days have been emotionally more than one person should be asked to endure. My heart can’t take anymore.
Grabbing the blanket, I lie back down and close my eyes. I dream of burnt grilled cheese and lazy summer evenings on Ranger with Milo next to me.
I see Baylor for less than twenty minutes total over the next two days. He sleeps, welds on the pipeline, and eats on the run. We have a long drive to the airport, and I have so many questions.