Keeping Indigo (Damaged Goods #2)

Prologue

Indigo

You know how sometimes you’ll look back and take stock of your life and ask yourself, “Self, is there anything I could have done differently to avoid the mess I’ve landed in?

Is it my fault that I keep finding myself in compromising situations, abusive relationships, or just downright shitty circumstances?

” I mean… a girl can wake up in a trunk only so many times before she starts to think that maybe she’s the problem.

I don’t believe in negative self-talk. I’ve always tried to be my own cheerleader because, honestly, I’ve always been my only cheerleader.

However, when you’ve clawed yourself out of hell and brushed the brimstone off your high-waisted shorts, just for some jack-off to shove you back down into the pit…

well, it can leave you feeling a bit raw. Unhinged. Demented. Damned.

The sad part is, when I awakened in the pitch-black darkness of whatever crappy sedan my captors drove to discover for the first time I wasn’t alone in my predicament, I couldn’t even be happy about it.

They say misery loves company, but I wasn’t so sure.

I was plenty miserable, and to be honest, I was seriously disappointed to discover that I wasn’t the only body in this trunk.

I didn’t want any company in my misery because that would mean that I’d dragged them into my mess.

I wouldn’t wish Uncle Roark on my very worst enemy.

A dismayed groan must have slipped through my lips because out of the darkness, a voice offered solace.

“It’ll be okay, chica loca. We’ll survive this.

” Bones. One of my favorite people in the whole wide world, beating out Mr. Rogers by a slim margin.

That may not seem like much on the surface of things, but it’s actually a pretty big accomplishment.

Mr. Rogers was one of the most lovable people in the history of the world.

Just try to be mad at him, and you’ll find that you can’t.

The feeling just won’t come; he was that nice of a guy.

However, the moment Bones selflessly dedicated himself to the indulgence of my best bitch and ride-or-die van, Sheila, he nudged Mr. Rogers down a place in my top four.

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” I murmured into the flooring of the trunk we were stuck inside.

It was my fault men had attacked Los Cuervos Motorcycle Club’s compound, my fault that my friend was hurt trying to protect me, and my fault we were on a bumpy ride to perdition.

My body jostled against his as the driver turned, then came to an abrupt stop.

Bones and I held our breath as the engine of the car was finally stopped after what felt like forever.

Doors opened and slammed, cutting through the silence and dread Bones and I were mired in. “I’m sorry, Bones.”

I flinched away from the blinding light of a flashlight that seared my eyes when the lid to the trunk was thrown open.

“Bitch, you haven’t even begun to feel sorry,” a voice sneered as rough hands grabbed my bound and hunched form and hoisted me out of the trunk.

Unceremoniously dumped onto a gravel-strewn parking lot, I turned onto my hands and knees and pushed myself up as quickly as I could, considering how dizzy and disoriented I felt.

Shuffling and a muted grunt coming from my left told me that Bones was also being escorted from the vehicle.

I squinted over my shoulder to see Bones and his twin, each cradling their right arm and swaying slightly.

Despite the dire circumstances, I found myself feeling slightly offended that Bones never told me he had an identical twin.

Or maybe I had a concussion? I wasn’t sure…

but it was definitely one of those two options. My bet was on a concussion.

Calloused hands grasped the nape of my neck and shoved me forward. I stumbled and barely caught myself as the asshat manhandling me sneered and snickered. Righting myself, I stuck my tongue out at the jerkface who shoved me.

“Leave her alone, asshole,” Bones snarled. A meaty thunk sound, accompanied by a scuffle, let me know that the Boneses still had some fire left in them.

I continued to shuffle across the asphalt until a sinister red glow illuminated my peripheral vision.

I gasped and looked up from the dizzy asphalt and into the neon glare of what I was sure would become a hellscape.

I inhaled, gasping in shock, and the noise must have reached the Boneses’ ears because the sounds of movement coming from behind me came to a screeching halt.

Once we crossed the threshold of the building standing before us, I knew deep in my soul we’d never quite be the same again.

“What the…?” one of the Boneses muttered behind me. I couldn’t agree more. What in Bob’s name were they planning to do to us? And why did it have to be here, of all places?

The harsh crimson-and-white sign perched high above us bathed us in a phosphorescent glow of evil intent that seeped through the large glass double doors I was facing. I swallowed down my nerves and whispered the sinister name into the night…

“Dairy Queen.”