Chapter Eighteen
Zane
—Two years ago—
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The halftime show started. Zane tipped back the beer and watched the cheerleaders run out onto the field when fast footsteps warned him River was home from work. His gut tightened in anticipation of seeing her.
She stopped at the entrance to the room, and her whole body sighed with relief at the sight of him.
Her backpack slid off her slim shoulders and slowly traveled down her arms, landing with a soft plop behind her. The only time she let herself take a break from having the heavy load was when he was in sight of her.
"You're here." She smiled, hurrying forward.
She sat beside him on the couch, kicked off her shoes, and put her feet on the cushion. The action caused her to lean against him. He set the can on the end table, prepared for River to invade his personal space. He'd gotten used to the way she always touched and pressed her body against him.
Gone was the innocence of a teenager. The signs of a woman were all around her. He noticed how the men in Gem Haven looked at her. Most days, he found himself pissed off that the members looked at her the way he felt.
He never asked to be in the position that he was in. If he'd met River six months ago, he'd be all over what she offered.
But those years of drying her tears, comforting her fears, and proving he'd stay in her life held him back.
She turned and looped her arms around his neck. "Guess what?"
"I can't imagine," he drawled.
"Lori, let me serve food during the last hour of my shift, and I got a hundred and fifteen dollars in tips." She bounced against him. "How much does it cost to hire a detective?"
He'd need to talk to Lori. River still had two months to go until she turned eighteen. Without disclosing that information to the others, he needed River to stay in the background. If the state found out she was here, they'd take her back into custody.
And he'd go straight to prison.
"A lot," he said.
"I know that ." She laid her head on his shoulder and nuzzled against his neck. "I need to know the exact amount, so I can hire him to find Kenna."
"Thirty thousand, at least."
He had no idea how much one would cost, but he set the amount high—too high for her to achieve that much money anytime soon. Kingsley was as talented as any investigator at finding someone.
It was a waste of her money to hire a detective.
Besides, the P.I. would likely find out Tom Pruitt sat on death row if he dug into River's family history. He'd need to take care of that before it happened.
"It's going to take me a long time." She sighed, turning her head. "Do you think Kingsley will find Kenna? It's been almost a year since he lost track of her."
"He's trying, sweetheart."
His brother had found more dead-ends than clues. Kenna was a year older than River and no longer tracked by the state. They couldn't buy their way into her file or stake out the social worker anymore.
Kenna could go anywhere and do whatever she wanted, but she also had to put food in her stomach and find somewhere to live.
Their promise to keep the Pruitt sisters safe and protected had fallen apart—through no fault of their own. They worked against the state and the foster system. Now, they worked against Kenna, who seemed to lose them at every turn.
River crawled up on his lap, facing him, and forced him to look at her. "Two questions."
"You ask too many already."
She laughed. "I haven't seen you all day."
He let this head fall back on the couch. "Make it quick, sweetheart. Halftime is almost over, and the game will come back on."
"Do you want the steak and potato I brought back from the bar?" She lifted her brows.
"Sure." He inhaled, suddenly hungry. "What's the second question?"
She looked at his chest and said, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
River was strikingly beautiful. Those big eyes she had as a kid naturally flirted with each blink of her eyelashes. The roundness of her cheeks had slipped away, leaving high cheekbones that were kissed by the sun each summer. She carried her new curves with a grace that came naturally.
"Anyone looking at you can see you're pretty." He picked her up by the waist and set her on her feet.
She grabbed his wrist with both hands. "How pretty?"
"That's three questions." He walked toward the kitchen.
"Seriously." She trailed him. "Am I as pretty as the women who hang around the bikers?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Now, what would make you ask that?"
She hurried around him and stopped by the counter. "Do you know me better than the women who hang around the clubhouse or bar?"
"Yeah."
"Well, don't you think that means something?" She raised her brows, waiting for him to read her mind.
He had no idea where she was going with the conversation. Lately, she seemed to have an agenda that he couldn't get ahead of. She wanted more work, more money, more freedom, more attention.
Now she compared herself to the women in Gem Haven.
He opened one of the cardboard containers and found a chef's salad loaded with chicken and cheese. Sliding the meal to River, he took the other container, carried it into the family room, and sat in front of the television. The game was back on.
He moved the coffee table closer and perched on the edge of the couch, leaning over to open his dinner. Lori had already cut his steak, buttered his potato, and added a piece of apple pie on the side.
River came in and sat beside him—thigh to thigh and put her meal on the coffee table. He never told her to sit in one of the other chairs or in the loveseat across from him. They'd eaten their evening meal like that since he moved her to Gem Haven.
She picked the cheese from her salad, dipping the chunks in the dressing. He finished half his steak and most of his potato before the game cut to a commercial.
Sensing her looking at him, he turned his head. She leaned toward him, kissed him fully on the lips, and then stood up. Taken by surprise by the chaste press of her lips on his mouth, all he could do was watch her pick up her salad and walk out of the room.
A part of him was afraid of asking her what that kiss was about. That had never happened before.
With all the questions she asked tonight on top of the kiss, he sat back and stared at the television—his meal forgotten.
He couldn't tell you who won the game.