Chapter Eighteen #4
“This keeps happening to us.”
I buckle my belt. “Difference is, this time we beat the interruption.”
“Barely.”
“Still counts.”
“You’re very competitive after sex.”
“I’m a King.”
“That explains absolutely nothing.”
“Universe is jealous.”
Twila straightens her top.
“Universe can fuck off.”
Then Twila reaches up and wipes something from my cheek.
“What?”
“Lipstick.”
“You wearing lipstick?”
“No.”
We both look at her split lip.
“Oh.”
I smile. “Better.”
“You look like you ate me.”
“Not this time.”
Her eyes widen.
I open the door before she can retaliate. We walk back into the hallway with Twila ahead of me and me staring at her ass. Then she stops so suddenly I nearly walk into her.
“What?”
She doesn’t answer.
I look past her.
Sheriff Amos Dix stands at the far end of the hallway.
Well. Fuck.
He ain’t in uniform. Jeans, button-down shirt, gun at his hip anyway. Fluorescent light catches the gray at his temples and the exhaustion carved beneath his eyes, but none of it softens the fury on his face.
His gaze goes straight to Twila.
Then me.
Her swollen mouth.
My crooked shirt.
Back to his daughter.
Nobody speaks.
Twila whispers, “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah.”
Sheriff Dix starts walking. Not fast. Menacing.
Twila straightens. I step beside her. Not in front. She notices.
Amos stops about five feet away. “Twila.”
“Daddy.”
His eyes move over her with the precision of a cop and the fear of a father, searching for injuries, restraint marks, anything that tells him she isn’t standing here because she chose to.
Whatever he expected, he doesn’t find it. Then he looks at me before coming back to her. “Come home.”
Twila’s face tightens. “Daddy. I’m not doing this here.”
His hand settles near his belt, not on his gun exactly, but close enough to show where two days of fear have been living. “I’ve spent two days trying to find you.”
“I know.”
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“You let me think that man had you somewhere against your will.”
I start to speak. Twila catches my hand. Not to silence me. To stop me from stepping in. She handles this.
I let her.
“I was held against my will at first.”
Amos’s eyes flash murder at me.
“Twila.”
“I said at first.”
His gaze drops to our joined hands. That hurts him. I see it. She does too.
“You’re free to go?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“He ain’t threatening you?”
“No.”
“Blackmailing you?”
“No.”
“Keeping your badge? Your phone? Your gun?”
Twila goes quiet.
The hallway is still busy around us, but everybody close enough to hear has suddenly found another direction to look.
Sheriff Dix looks wrecked beneath the anger. “Baby, come home.”
Twila swallows. “No.”
One quiet word.
Stronger than yelling.
Amos looks at her like he didn’t understand. “No?”
“No.”
His eyes shift toward me. “What the hell did you do to my daughter?”
I don’t answer.
Twila does. “He listened.”
Sheriff Dix flinches.
Twila squeezes my hand.
Amos looks at her. “I listen.”
Something in Twila’s face cracks. “Daddy, no. You wait for me to quit talking so you can tell me why I’m wrong.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No.”
“You think this biker listens better than your own father?”
“That ain’t what I said.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Daddy.”
“He kidnapped you!”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ, Twila.”
“He also let me walk away.”
“And?”
“I didn’t.”
Even I forget to breathe.
Sheriff Dix looks at his daughter differently.
Twila looks down at our joined hands.
Then at me.
Fuck.
Amos looks like he wants to kill me.
Twila turns back toward him. “I’m still trying to figure out why.”
Sheriff Dix studies her for a long time before his eyes come back to me.
“You hurt her, I’ll kill you.”
Twila sighs. “Everybody keeps saying that.”
I nod. “County motto.”
She almost laughs.
Amos doesn’t.
His gaze drops to our hands one last time, then returns to Twila.
“I’m not done.”
“I know.”
“You call me.”
“I will.”
“Tonight.”
“Daddy.”
“Twila.”
She closes her eyes. “Fine.”
Some of the tension finally leaves his shoulders. He turns and walks away.
Twila stays where she is until he disappears around the corner, then breathes out like she’s been holding it for two days.
I look at her. “You okay?”
“No.”
“Want me to kill Cal?”
Her head turns. “What does Cal have to do with this?”
“Nothing. Just offering options.”
She laughs.
Exactly what I wanted.
Then she leans into my shoulder. Barely enough pressure to count. I don’t move.
Don’t turn it into something bigger than she can handle.
After a moment, she says, “You did good.”
“Where?”
“With Daddy.”
“Didn’t punch him.”
“Exactly.”
“Bar’s low.”
“Still proud.”
“Take it back.”
“No.”
I look down at her. “You done here?”
“Photos.”
“Right.”
“You can wait.”
“Planning to.”
She starts toward the main room. I follow. Three steps later, she looks back over her shoulder. “You staring at my ass?”
I nod. And as I watch her walk back toward a room full of people chanting Twister like she hung the fucking moon, I finally understand why nobody who loves this woman should ever ask her to make herself smaller.
She ain’t too much. Never was. She’s exactly enough to ruin a man. And I’m starting to think I’d let her.