That was supposed to be at the end of last summer. I’d had the date marked on my calendar in my room at my mother’s house. I’d been counting down the days until Jet was home all the way up until I’d left. After I’d started working for Emmie, I’d still counted the days, mentally reminding myself every night as I’d gone to bed how many more sleeps it would be until Jet would be home with his family.
I didn’t kid myself that he might come looking for me once he was home. I knew he was glad to be rid of me. I’d just been his sister’s best friend who had loved him so obsessively and ruined his life. He was probably deep in Bubbles or one of the other sheep right now.
Jealousy sliced through me like a blade through flesh. Grabbing the phone, I headed off the bus. I ignored the big men standing by the front door and the others stationed around the perimeter of the bus. I needed to clear my head, walk in the cooling night air and maybe even shed a few tears without the fear of someone seeing them.
As I walked past all the other buses toward the darkened street, I held the phone against my chest. It was my last lifeline to my old life, one I was missing more and more with each passing day. But it was a life I couldn’t return to. Not now. That life would suck the rest of my spirit—hell, my frigging will to live—right out of me. I was needed here with Emmie and her family.
It was nice to be needed for a change.
Lord knew I’d never been needed before. My mother hadn’t needed me, hadn’t even wanted me. I didn’t know why she hadn’t just had an abortion to rid her of the ‘problem’ in the first place. I’d needed Raven, but I didn’t think she’d needed me. Maybe she had a little, but not enough. Jet hadn’t needed me, that was for sure. For a few months a helpless little life had needed me, but Westcliffe had destroyed my chances of ever holding that precious little baby. From what the doctors had told me the night I’d miscarried, I might never have a baby of my own. He’d been thorough in his beating, after all.
Westcliffe had left me alive, but he’d taken my will to live when he’d killed the baby that had been growing inside of me, taking away my last connection to the man I’d loved—and, stupidly, still loved.
Emmie’s family had given me back the will I needed to keep going. I’d found a purpose with them. I’d found myself again, and I actually liked the me I was when I was with them.
I still missed everyone though. Not the life, but the people. I even missed my mother.
Stopping under a streetlight, I glared down at my burner phone. I picked up a new one every few weeks, using cash instead of a credit card. The Club’s connections were far reaching and I wouldn’t put it past them to find me through them. I never used the phone though, but I couldn’t keep from wanting—needing—that small link to them.
My thumb punched in Raven’s home number and then hovered over the connect button. I shouldn’t—it was too risky, especially this close to Creswell Springs, which was only about a two hours’ drive from where we currently where. I knew th
e homesickness would flood in and I’d want to go home. I kept trying to remind myself it wasn’t home anymore. It wasn’t.
So what’s the harm in calling her?
Clenching my eyes closed, I leaned back against the light post. “Fuck it,” I groaned and let my thumb touch the one button I’d been fighting with myself not to hit all night.
The phone rang three times on the other end before someone answered. “Hello?” a somewhat familiar female voice answered, but it wasn’t the one I wanted to hear.
“Is Raven home?” I murmured, wondering why Gracie was still at the Hannigans’. Shouldn’t she have found her own place by now?
“She’s putting the baby to bed. Can I take a message? I’ll get her to call you back as soon as she can,” she promised.
Baby? What baby?
“Um…no. I-I’ll just call her back.” Before the other woman could say another word I disconnected and let the hand holding the phone drop to my side.
Had Raven had a baby? Was my best friend a mother now?
“It’s not safe out here, Flick.”
I jerked at the sound of that name, spoken in that voice, and dropped my phone. I heard the cheap thing break, but didn’t care. My head snapped up in the direction his voice had come from and I saw his outline in the darkness just ten feet away. My heart was in my throat, both from the moment of fright and the excitement of hearing the one voice I’d thought I’d never hear again. As I watched, Jet stepped forward and I had to gulp in air all of a sudden.
Holy hell. Was it me, or had he gotten bigger? Jet had never been a small man. His shoulders had been wide and muscular for as long as I could remember, but now those shoulders seemed twice as wide. His muscles seemed to pile up on top of one another, causing his shirt to look distressed, as if it would rip if he breathed the wrong way.
He wasn’t wearing his cut and the jeans he wore hung deliciously low on his hips. The boots on his feet were the same ones I remembered all too well, though. His favorite. My eyes shot back up to his face, noticing the slight paleness to his usually sun-golden skin.
“There’s a lunatic on the run and you’re out here by yourself?” he snapped at me. “Are you trying to get hurt, woman?”
It took me a moment to find my voice. “H-how did you know about that?” I was dreaming. That was the only explanation I could come up with. I’d been so desperate to hear a familiar voice that I was dreaming. There was no way Jet could be standing there looking so worried about me, not for real.
Right?
“Everyone on the planet knows about it, Flick. It’s all over the news.” He took another step closer and I saw the fire in his olive-green eyes. This close, I could smell the mixture of scents that I would always associate with Jet Hannigan. It was full of citrus and spice and for some reason the combination had always gone straight to my head quicker than a shot of good Irish whiskey. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I reminded him in a voice that didn’t hold the strength I knew I needed when dealing with this man. Dream or not—hell, I still wasn’t sure—I needed to be strong where Jet was concerned. “I’m with you.”
He shook his head, making his blond hair fall across his forehead. “What if I’d been the fucker who is terrorizing your boss? Huh? Whoever it is isn’t below shooting someone, Flick. Do you want to be her next victim?”