Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Honey, I don’t want to be an asshole, but are you that sure the truth is going to make her look any better?”
Dakota stares down at her hands. “Either way, I want to know.”
“Alright. I’ll give the phone to our tech guy and see what he says. If it’s just the screen, that shouldn’t be too hard. And I’ll ask around about Ice. I knew the guy but we weren’t that close. If she was around a lot, it could be that someone else remembers your sister, but I gotta warn you, a lot of women come and go. The old ladies are tighter, but they don’t usually pay much attention unless a girl sticks around for a while.”
“Right, I get it.” Her eyes search my face for something, but I don’t know what she sees. “Thank you for trying. I should probably get to sleep soon. I still have to pack Logan’s bag, and I’m going to go over to Georgia’s apartment tomorrow to see if the landlord will let me in. I want to look around and see—well, I want to see how she was living. Hopefully Jay is at work. I don’t know if they were living together full time or not.”
Hold the fuck up. “Who’s going with you?”
Her hesitation pisses me off.
“No. No fucking way you’re going there alone. Text me the address and call tomorrow before you leave.”
“You guys can’t keep helping me with everything. You’re already doing me like three favors.”
I comb my fingers into her hair cupping the back of her head and fisting the silky strands just tight enough to make her eyes go wide. “Ask me if I give a shit.”
12
DAKOTA
Midafternoon the next day, I’m waiting in my car across the street from Fast Cash Brokers. It’s the middle of the day, and I feel a little silly sitting here with all my doors locked like I need bodyguards to do anything, but Stiff made me promise. I want to show him that he’s not the only one that keeps their promises.
Even if I’m even more confused about him now than I was before he came over last night.
I study the windows on the second floor. Which ones were Georgia’s? I’ve only been inside a couple times, and that was before she started seeing Jay and I became persona non grata. I don’t remember exactly how the building was laid out. Is the window with the cute yellow curtains hers? Or the one with cardboard taped over the cracked pane? Probably not the one with all the plants. She always liked flowers, but complained that they died no matter what she did. My throat tightens. I roll down the window a little to let the cold air keep the tears at bay.
Jackal, Stiff and Lash show up with a loud rumble of engines that I hear echoing down the street well before I see their bikes coming my way. They park right in front of the shop, their jackets clearly identifying them as members of the Outlaw Sons. There’s the shadow of a person inside the shop window that stands there for a moment before darting away. Lash is the first to notice my car and raises a hand, waving me over.
Three sets of eyes watch as I get out and head their way. I’m wearing the same jeans as I had on at the Burnout, but with a pale lilac sweatshirt and a light jacket on top. When I got dressed this morning I picked it because I’ve always liked how I look in this color, and then almost took it off again because what does it matter? Grief is strange. Georgia and I could go months without speaking, and half the time we weren’t on good terms, but she was my sister. Logan’s mom. In dying, she’s left a huge, aching gap where all my worries and dreams about her used to be.
But the clock keeps ticking, the days pass by, and I still think lilac is pretty.
“Thanks for meeting me.” I glance over at Stiff. He raises an eyebrow and I can feel myself blush. Is he thinking about what happened, too? Or am I another one of the women that comes and goes in his life? Isn’t that what I should be?
“This is where Georgia lived?” Jackal eyes the building with obvious skepticism.
“Yeah, she worked here, and the owners let her rent one of the apartments upstairs for cheap.”
Lash grunts. “You know it’s a front, right?”
“What do you mean? I know pawn shops can be a little sketchy, but she told me about her job. She liked seeing all the different things people would bring in, and keeping track of everything.”
“Everything? I doubt it,” Stiff comments. “I’m sure if you bring them your grandma’s gold necklace, they’ll weigh it for you and front you cash, but that’s just for show. The real money is moving around in the back room.”