Chapter 55
Chapter fifty-five
Dakota
My scream echoes through the trailer when a bullet hits Dean in the middle of the forehead.
Billy barely gives him a glance before he tucks the gun back in his jeans and looks around like he’s in some nostalgic state.
“Idiot,” he mutters.
“What the hell, Billy?” I shriek. “What’s wrong with you?”
He waves a hand dismissively. “I didn’t need him anymore.”
He takes him by the ankles, dragging him down the hall and to the bathroom.
“Anymore?” I question, my stomach churning at the fact that I’ve been around him all of thirty seconds and he’s already committed first degree murder.
Billy strides back down the hallway, then to the old fridge, checking inside with a grunt before he turns his soulless eyes back to me. “You think I left without eyes on you? That I’d just let the little bitch that put me inside get away with it?”
“You had him watching me?”
“Yeah. Had him toy with you a little too.” He laughs. “I’ll admit it. I didn’t think he had it in him to run you off the road.”
My stomach sinks. It was Dean?
“I couldn’t risk the law seeing me. He owed me.”
I shake my head. “He was practically a kid when you went to jail.”
“A kid with connections. Needed someone to keep up my part in the trade while I was inside.”
I shift, still working the rope on my hands.
“Trade?”
He runs a hand over his hair. “Drugs, Dakota. How else do you think I paid rent on this piece of shit.”
I wince when he picks up an old beer can and tosses it against the wall. “And you had to fuck it all up. With your lies.”
“You just admitted you were dealing,” I point out. “How is that my fault?”
“You testified!” He shouts.
I try to move quick when he lunges for me, his hand wrapping around my throat. “You told the cops that was my bag,” he grits out.
I gasp, my throat burning as he squeezes tighter. “Did eight years for your bullshit. You’re no better than your old man. Lying for your own gain.” He chuckles before he lets go of my throat. “Too busy letting that Mayson boy spread your legs to be grateful for everything I gave you.”
My cough is painful before I glare up at him. “What you gave me?” I cough again. “Fuck you, Billy.”
I should have known it was coming. He backhands me hard across the cheek, causing me to fall to the floor. My face meets the old carpet, before he’s in my ear.
“I may have been dealing, but that wasn’t my fucking bag.” He presses a hand on my face, forcing me against the floor. “Dean wasn’t supposed to be doing a drop off that night. Looks like he couldn’t follow simple directions either.”
He lets go of me, and my cheek throbs.
“All you ever had to do was keep your mouth shut.” He growls. “Live up to the Sterling name. Never thought my own daughter would be a snitch.”
“I never thought my own father would be a worthless piece of trash but here we are.”
When he grips my hair, and tugs me up, I let out a mangled scream. From pain and anger. From fear and frustration.
“Don’t bite me,” he warns before he pulls a piece of cloth from his back pocket.
He spins it a few times before shoving it in my mouth, tying the ends behind my head.
With no emotion, he shoves me to the floor then he pulls out a phone, snapping a quick picture before he types on the screen. A wicked smile slips into place after he shoves it in his pocket.
“Turns out you might be good for one more thing before I toss you like I should have when your mother left,” he mutters while yanking me up to my feet.
He drags me behind him, crossing the living room to the front door. “For some reason the Mayson’s seemed to have taken a liking to you. I have a feeling he’d pay a pretty penny to get his wife back.”
My stomach burns, bile rising in my throat at the thought of Cooper. At the trouble I’m bringing right to the Mayson’s door. To Ari.
I shake my head no, trying to talk through the gag.
“I beg to differ.”
My arms ache as he opens the passenger side door to Dean’s truck, ushering me inside with a force that makes my shoulders burn. The angle of my arms is making it hard for me to maneuver my body, but I still haven’t stopped working the rope. I can feel it loosening each time I twist my wrists.
He cranks the engine and smirks. “Let’s make a trip back to our old stomping grounds.”
Billy places the gun on the console.
“Don’t make me use this.” His threat is followed by the shift of the truck.
Gritting my teeth, I peer out the window, seeing if anyone is outside. Of course, the one night I need a witness there isn’t a soul in sight.
We pull out onto the main road, and the only thing saving me right now is the darkness.
It gives me the opportunity to finish untying my hands.
My mind spins, multiple plans forming as I mentally sift through which is plain stupid or worth it.
Most of them would be plain stupid, but I never claimed to be smart.
I do, however, claim to be fearless. I claim to be a woman who never backs down and will fight like hell to leave behind the life that tried to destroy me.
I think about Arizona. About the life we can give her.
About the world she deserves. One where she can draw sunsets and use fruit loops as vengeance.
Where she can expect a warm meal and her own room.
I think about Cooper. My Cooper. I finally know what it feels like to lay in his arms. To be the one he showers with love and grace.
Billy Sterling isn’t going to be the one who takes that away from me. Not now. Not ever.
Which is why instead of sitting quietly like a good little victim, I bite the inside of my cheek, then use all of my strength to snap the remaining twines of the rope.
He doesn’t notice, he’s too busy mumbling to himself, while I casually relax my arms.
Damn those hurt.
I take a small breather, watching as we leave the Mayson Ridge city limits. A stretch of darkness surrounds us, and I know my time is running short. The farther away from town, the longer I’ll have to get back. There’s only going to be one way to stop him.
Saying a quick prayer, and channeling my inner badass, I make my move.
My hands dart out quick, snatching the gun from the console. He reacts a little too late, swerving as I point the barrel at him. The sudden jerk of the truck has me crashing against the door, my hand colliding with the headrest which catapults the gun to the back seat.
His voice is a roar as he swerves away from the ditch, overcorrecting as we travel across the opposite lane.
It all happens so fast. One second, we’re on asphalt, and then the next, we’re tumbling.
And everything goes black.