Chapter 28
“ Shit. Sloan!” Parker bellows.
I lock the door of the truck, hating that I’m doing this to him, but knowing there’s no other choice.
Parker’s eyes flash as Ray jumps into the driver’s side and revs the engine, and I crank my neck around to watch him sprint for his truck so he can follow us.
My stomach drops out of my throat when he flies up behind us before we even make it out of the driveway.
A glance at Ray shows he’s smiling, as if this is all a fun game.
I don’t notice my phone is still clutched in my hand until it rings, Parker’s number flashing on the screen. The rest of my plan clicks into place.
I answer it and lift it to my ear before Ray can react. “I’m sorry.”
Ray yells in protest and Parker’s shouting at me through the other end, but I keep the phone where it is as I turn my fierce eyes on Ray.
“I talk to Parker or the police, your call.”
I’m proud of the fierce, steady tone of my voice. He works his jaw, scabbed knuckles flexing on the wheel before he grudgingly accepts that this is the better of the two options.
“What the fuck, Sloan?” Parker yells across the line over the sound of his truck engine. “Are you insane? This guy could be dangerous!”
“We didn’t have a choice. I’m fine. And you’ll be there as soon as I get out of the truck to bring me home.”
He lets out another string of expletives, and his figure tenses in the reflection of the side mirror as he stays inches from our tail.
“Parker, this will all be over soon. Trust me.” I put as much weight as I can into the last two words.
The breath hisses out from between his teeth before he grants me his clipped consent. “Fine.”
As subtly as I can, I slide my thumb over and press the end call button, severing our connection.
“Stay on the line with me, okay, Parker?” I lower the phone, pretending to fumble with putting it on speakerphone.
But instead, I swipe to open the camera and quickly set it to video recording, angling the phone so the screen faces the window, out of Ray’s view.
I can’t see, but I’m pretty sure the angle will capture him in the driver’s seat from here, and it’s far enough from his reach that he can’t snatch it unexpectedly.
“You want to tell your boyfriend to back up?” he snaps.
I cast a glare in his direction, letting my anger distract me from the reality of how dangerous this situation could be.
“What did you expect? You’re blackmailing him, remember?”
“I’m collecting payment owed to me, girl. You’re lucky I’m only interested in the money.”
His dark eyes skim over to my side of the cab, dragging up my legs.
I shrink back against the door, fighting the nausea that climbs up my throat.
We drive the next couple of country blocks without speaking.
The closer we get to town and an ATM, the more my lungs begin to fill with air again.
We don’t seem to be going in an unfamiliar direction, and I’m pretty positive that, despite how hard he’s working to intimidate us, all Ray really wants is the money.
“God, it’s freezing in here,” I say, quickly reaching for the heat and cranking the dial, turning the fan on and adjusting the vents to face me.
I’m not cold. In fact, I’m sweating under my arms like a motherfucker.
However, phase two of my plan is to touch as many things in this truck as possible.
I hit the radio next, turning it on and quickly punching my way through all the preset stations before he smacks my hand away and shuts it off again.
I slump back and fold my arms with a huff, pretending I’m more annoyed than scared.
I mean, it’s not like he’s armed. That I know of.
Checking to make sure Parker’s still behind us, I let out a long, bored breath, drumming my hands on the dashboard.
“You have terrible timing; do you know that? I have like a million and one things I need to get done today, and this is not on the list.”
He doesn’t respond.
“So, are you the brains behind this operation, or just the goon who collects the money?” I say, breaking the silence.
“I’m a one-man operation, sweetheart. The clients are all mine. Including the repeat customers like your boyfriend’s daddy.”
“Riiight, so by clients you mean addicts you take advantage of by loaning them money for illegal gambling and then charging them triple to pay it back?”
“They know what they’re getting into.”
I chew my lower lip, arms crossed, as I look out the window, pretending to think hard.
“Look, I’m not sure I have all of it in my bank account. I’ll give you whatever I can.”
“You’ll give me all of what I’m owed.”
“I can’t help it if my bank has a limit on withdrawals! Look, what if … ugh. Forget it,” I mutter, glaring out the window.
“What if what?”
I sigh, as if this is the last thing I want to admit.
“Look, I know I don’t look like it, but I’m a decent poker player.”
His eyes slant sideways at me, and I hold my breath, knowing I need to play the next bit extremely carefully.
“And?”
I lift one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “And … if you happened to know where a game was happening, I could give you the money that you’re owed, plus enough to keep you from needing to come back to Parker’s dad ever again.”
I watch him for a minute, then pretend to dismiss the idea as stupid by turning back to the window. “Never mind.”
“517 Murphy Avenue. Midnight tonight.”
With a guarded look at him, I nod once. We’re quiet for the rest of the ride, but a few minutes later, we’re arriving at our destination—time for phase three of the plan.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and grip the handle as we pull into the gas station's parking lot, which has an ATM around the side of the building.
Parker is still right behind us, and I hop out as soon as Ray jerks to a stop.
Parker flies out of his truck while it’s still running, but Ray steps between us before he can get to me, the slippery man faster than either of us gave him credit for.
“You good, Sloan?” Parker calls tightly, his eyes cutting to me over Ray’s shoulder, relief and anger warring in them.
I nod, then go to the ATM with trembling fingers and withdraw the maximum amount. My phone in one hand, I thrust the money at Ray with the other.
“Here. That’s the extra two thousand. We’re done here.”
Smiling, Ray puts the cash in his pocket and backs away from Parker, keeping his eyes on him until he’s halfway into his truck, speaking over the door.
“Change your mind about tonight, sweetheart? Afraid you won’t be able to handle it?”
“Handle what?” Parker growls.
“Oh, Ray here invited me to an illegal poker game. I can’t remember the address, but don’t worry. I can play back the recording.” I smile sweetly at Ray as I lift my phone, which has been rolling this whole time. His face falls slowly as understanding dawns on him.
“You think that gives you anything on me? I didn’t say shit that the cops would give a fuck about.”
“No, but they will if I tell them you kidnapped me,” I say, closing the distance between me and Parker.
His surprised eyes bore into the side of my face as he tries to catch up.
“I don’t know if you realized this,” I say, “but I touched pretty much everything in your truck. Do you have any idea how far forensics has come in the last five years alone? If anyone so much as breathes inside your truck, they can tell who, when, and for how long. It might be my word against yours, Ray, but scientific evidence is indisputable. And the amount of it in your truck right now means that if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Parker and everybody he knows alone. For good. Got it?”
“You think I don’t know how to wipe for fingerprints, you little bitch?”
I laugh. “That’s cute. Honestly, if you’re going to be a criminal, you should keep up with what the good guys are doing.
You could drive that truck into a pool full of bleach and they’d still find something.
But by all means, be my guest. And keep talking, while you’re at it,” I say cheerily, circling my finger in the air.
“Tell me more about how good you think you are at destroying evidence. Honestly, this is all gold.”
I anticipate his next move before he finishes taking his first step towards me.
“Destroying the phone won’t do you any good. I’ve already uploaded this as a draft to Instagram. Say the word and this puppy goes live. I’m thinking, hashtag thug life. Do you have a handle you want me to tag?”
I’m bluffing, but I took a calculated risk that this middle-aged criminal isn’t up to date on his social media platforms, and it pays off.
Maybe I’d be decent at poker after all. With an impatient suck of his teeth, he casts both of us one final glare before slamming himself into the truck and peeling off.
Before I know what’s happening, Parker’s arms are wrapped around me and I’m collapsing into him, letting him hold up the weight on my wobbly legs, useless after forcing them to stay solid under me until now.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he breathes into my hair, one hand around my waist and the other gripping the base of my neck as he clutches me against him. It feels great to be back here again.
“I’m sorry,” I squeak, though it’s difficult to speak when he’s squeezing me so tight.
A humorless laugh escapes him as he pulls away. “Come on, let me take you—back.”
I would bet another four grand that he almost just said ‘home.’ And he would have been right.
Salem Stables is home to me now, more than anywhere else I could ever hope to be.
I thought Parker was anchored to this place in a way I never would be, but I was wrong.
This is where I belong. Not despite him, but because of him.
Without looking at me, he walks me towards his truck, closing the door behind me after I climb in.
The weight of the silence is heavy in the crisp air between us as we drive back to Salem Stables, his discontent almost enough to fog the glass.
He has every right to be angry with me for getting into a vehicle with someone like Ray, especially without first informing him of my plan.
What I did was risky and shortsighted, but he wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t care about my safety …
if he didn’t care about me. Would he? The hope blossoming in my chest encourages me to break the silence as we pull into the driveway.
“Parker, I’m sorry,” I say again, twisting in my seat to face him.
He pulls the keys out of the ignition, staring at the steering wheel for a beat before he climbs out of the truck, rounding to my side and opening the door. Quietly, I unfasten my seatbelt and slide down into the space between him and the truck, waiting for the words I know he’s building up to.
“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” he asks, but the wild emotion I heard earlier has faded.
“I know. But I couldn’t think of anything else to do. And it worked, didn’t it? It was worth it.”
“It wouldn’t have been if anything had happened to you.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “Sloan, I swear, if he so much as laid a finger—”
“He didn’t,” I’m quick to assure him. My hand comes up to his, holding his palm against my cheek.
His eyes are so warm and familiar, pulling me into them. I shift up onto my toes, my lips brushing softly against his.
“Sloan.” There’s an apology in his tone as he pulls away.
I keep my eyes pressed closed for a second longer, so I don’t have to watch the rejection I know is coming. I sink back down until my heels hit the ground and lift my lids so I’m looking at his chest, unable to meet his eyes.
“Nothing’s changed for you, has it?” I whisper, the cracks in my heart deepening with every word. “Even after all that.”
Defeat weighs his neck forward, and even his words come out heavy. “We were never in this together, Sloan. None of it. If we were, you wouldn’t have even thought about leaving me.”
I flinch, realizing the implication of what I almost did. Leaving is what his dad did to him when shit hit the fan, when Parker needed him. And I’d gone and done the exact same thing.
“I was never trying to string you along. That phone call with Lyla, I can explain—”
“No.” He takes a step backward, distancing himself from me. “No more explaining, I get it. Believe me, I get it. I was a distraction for you. Until things got complicated, and then I wasn’t worth the trouble.”
My mouth opens and closes like a fish, wanting so badly to explain but not knowing where to begin. Both of our heads turn at the sound of my name being called. Across the driveway, Tabitha is standing underneath the white wedding tent, looking frazzled.
“Where have you been?! We have a big problem on our hands.”
“Uh … sure. Give me a sec?”
“I’d love to, hon, but this is time sensitive. We could use your help over here.”
Of course, this is happening right now.
“Go. It’s fine,” Parker says, taking a step back. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” I say, reaching for him. “You matter to me. We can fix this, can’t we?”
His fingers circle my wrists, and my heart rises in my chest as I prepare for him to pull me in.
Gently, he removes my hands from his chest and steps back.
“I can’t,” he says, his voice low and thick with emotion.
“That’s my problem. I give people too many chances.
You were right. This is too complicated, too messy.
I’m sorry, Sloan, but I don’t have room for messiness in my life.
And you’ve got two hundred people waiting for you, remember? ”
My heart is back on the floor, the treads of his boots leaving their mark.
“I don’t care about the wedding,” I say, meaning it—more than I’ve ever meant anything.
He presses his lips in a line. “They will, though. And they’re not going to care what the reason is if their day doesn’t go perfectly.”
I don’t blame him for being cautious. He’s been let down by the people who were supposed to take care of him too many times, hurt so bad that it seems the only way to make it through is to play it safe. Proving to him I’m worth taking a chance on is going to take something more … something big.
One grand gesture, coming right up.