Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
MILLIE
The knock on my door causes my spine to straighten and goose bumps to break out over my skin. I’m pretty sure that mobsters don’t knock, so even if my body is on high alert, I think I’m fairly confident in the fact that it’s not anyone looking for me like that, at least not yet.
I’m sure they will find me, though. I just don’t know when. At this point, it’s all a waiting game. They are going to find me eventually. I shiver at the thought of what will happen to me when they do. I can only hope that Axton will help me out when that happens.
I walk over to the door and look through the peephole before I answer. I’m not sure who I expect to see on the other side of the door, but it isn’t who is actually standing there. It’s someone I don’t think I could have ever anticipated darkening my door.
Twisting the knob, I gently pull open the door to find her standing in front of me. I don’t move out of the doorway or invite her inside. Instead, I stand stock-still, my eyes on hers, and stare. Arching a brow, I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head to the side.
“I know I’m probably the last person on earth you’d want to see, but Piggy gave me your address and… I wanted to talk to you.”
“So talk,” I grind out.
“You’re really going to make me talk to you in the hallway?”
I should. She doesn’t deserve to come inside my home. She doesn’t deserve to sit on my comfortable sofa. She doesn’t deserve to be in my presence. Really, this conversation should be happening by a trash bin, because that’s about what she deserves.
Instead, against all better judgment inside my own body, I step to the side and allow the bitch to enter my safe place. I fucking hate her. I really don’t think she has the right to demand or even ask anything of me, but I’m going to humor her, mostly because I don’t want to start anything.
It’s been a decade. I should get over it, but I’m not sure I ever will. Closing the door behind me, I close my eyes slowly, inhaling through my nose and letting it out my mouth quietly, before I reopen my eyes and turn around to face her.
Daisy stands in front of me in her signature short shorts. Daisy Dukes. That’s what they all call her down there at their clubhouse. I hate the name almost as much as I hate her. I would never give her the satisfaction of knowing just how much I dislike her.
“I never told Piggy that you called all those years ago,” she begins.
Pressing my lips together, I wait for her to continue. She obviously wants a reaction, but she’s not going to get it—not from me. So I wait for whatever it is she’s going to spit out. Whatever it is she thinks I just must know.
“I told you the truth. I didn’t lie to you, but I didn’t have to say it the way I did. I was jealous of you, of the way Piggy felt about you. And at the time, I thought that maybe someone would want to make me their old lady. I was young. Immature. Ridiculous.”
Daisy stands in front of me, wringing her hands together as she shifts her weight from side to side. I hate that she’s so pretty. I want to hate her and think of her as an ugly troll. But I don’t and I can’t, so I stay silent.
“I should have told him, and I shouldn’t have said anything to you.”
Rolling my lips a few times, I uncross my arms and let them hang by my sides as I stare at her. Ten years ago, she made sure she told me exactly who Axton was doing and how often, not to mention how much he loved it.
I knew deep down that it was the truth. I also knew that she was being catty about it. I deserved it. I know I did, and I still do. We were eighteen at the time and thought we knew everything. We didn’t know shit—still don’t.
“You told me the truth,” I state.
“I made it sound much more salacious than I should have, but yes…”
Tears fill her eyes, and I watch as they roll down her cheeks. I could comfort her, but I don’t. Even though I don’t blame her for what she said, I’m still not going to throw myself at her. She’s not my best friend.
“It was still the truth,” I say.
“It was still the truth,” she admits. “I just wanted to come here and apologize.”
It’s in this moment that I decide to let it go. It happened a decade ago, and that part of my life is over and done with. I still can’t be friends with Daisy. It’s been too long, with too much hurt. And maybe I should feel the same way about Axton, but I love him too much.
Far too much… unfortunately.
PIGGY
The last thing I want to do is go to work. I’d rather sit in the parking lot of the Gilded Room and wait for Millie. Watch her walk to her car and then follow her home. I don’t care that it’s fucking weird and now she’d know it was me doing it. I still want to do just that.
I don’t, though.
It’s time for me to focus on my career and my passion. An all-black car flies by me, going at least twenty miles over the speed limit, and I decide this is my undertaking tonight. Picking up the radio, I call in to dispatch to let them know I’m in pursuit.
Flipping on my lights and sirens, I follow the car, picking up speed as I race through the curves of the mountains. I know these roads like the back of my hand, and I also know that if he’s not as familiar, he’s going to end up flying off a cliff to his death.
It doesn’t take me long to catch up to the car. It’s just making a sharp turn, the driver slamming on the brakes as it does. Thankfully, they don’t slide off the side of the mountain. Unthankfully, they also don’t stop.
They speed up again and take off. They’re getting closer to town, and while it won’t be very busy tonight, I still don’t want to chance anyone’s homes, businesses, or bodies being murdered by this crazy fucking driver.
As I get closer to them, I start to speak into my PA system and advise them to pull over. They don’t immediately. I back off their tail end a bit, but stay close enough that I’m not going to lose them anytime soon.
I’m about to call in to dispatch for backup when they suddenly slow down. Then they pull over to a two-lane dirt road. Flicking my gaze down to the insignia of the car, I smirk.
It’s a Lexus.
With Nevada plates.
There is no way this car can go down this road. I’ve been down here before, and the potholes are big enough that it would get stuck, and then it would be easy as fuck to figure out just what the hell is going on here.
I tell dispatch that I’m out on the call before I push the door open and unfold from the car. With one hand on my gun, I lift my other to my shoulder, clicking on the flashlight as I approach.
“You were driving like an asshole out there,” I announce before I flash the light into the driver’s window.
Dark eyes meet mine. I don’t recognize him, but I don’t need to. He carries himself a certain way. And that way is dangerous. I know that he, without a doubt, is not a good guy. Wasn’t a good guy and likely won’t ever be a good guy.
I should know.
Because I’m the same.
Except for one thing.
I most definitely am not the good guy, but what I am is a different kind of bad guy than the man staring back at me. His lips twitch into a smirk while his eyes search mine. They’re black, soulless. They’re evil.
“Was I?” he asks, his voice smooth and even, almost as if he’s trying not to laugh.
Maybe he thinks it’s funny. I’m sure he does. A small-town cop in a small mountain town. Probably thinks I’m a complete fucking hick.
He has no idea.
None.
It’s kind of cute, though.
In a fuck-him-for-thinking-that-shit kind of way.
“I confess, I’m new to town and don’t know the roads or the speed limits,” he murmurs.
I can tell that he’s lying. And again, he thinks he’s being cute as fuck. Or funny. Either way, I don’t give a shit. I’m ready to end him and call it good right here, but I don’t. Something makes me hesitate.
“I’ll believe you’re new in town, but that’s about it. You knew the speed limit and knew I had lights and sirens on behind you. License and registration, right now, and if I were you, I’d hand it to me with a big smile.”
As he begins to reach over to the glove box, I take my gun out of my hip holster and lift it slightly. I watch as he reaches over and pops open the glove box. Right there, sitting in that box, is a gun. I should press my gun against his temple and make him get out of the car, but I don’t.
At second glance, he doesn’t reach for the gun. But what I do notice is that his suit isn’t like the guys’ with the Front mob family. This suit is luxurious. He’s not just some peon. He is someone big, or at the very least someone who enjoys spending money and has the money to enjoy spending.
He doesn’t even touch the gun. Instead, he takes the piece of paper on top, closes the door, and faces me while handing it to me. He jerks his chin in my direction, his eyes finding mine. I wonder if he’s going to say something about the gun, but he doesn’t, and neither do I.
I don’t give a fuck if someone wants to have a gun in their car, and obviously, he’s a man who feels the need to have one.
I’ve got three on me right now and a couple in my car.
I get it. But I’m also not going to let him shoot me if that was his prerogative.
I have a feeling it’s not, at least not yet anyway.
“So you’re not from here. You here on vacation?” I ask as I look over his information.
“Sure,” he murmurs.
A lie.
“Stay here,” I demand.
I walk back to my car, sit down, and start typing his name and information into the computer as I wait for it to pull up any wants and warrants. Nothing pops up, and the nothing is too clean of a nothing. His shit has been scrubbed.
Interesting.
I clear my throat. As much as I want to haul his ass in for reckless driving, I decide against it. Standing from the car, I walk back to his, thrusting my hand forward slightly to return his information to him.
“Slow it down through Thunder Rock,” I murmur. “Also, don’t take this car down this road. You’ll ruin it. Get back on the main road and slow the fuck down. Next time I need to pull you over, I’m taking you in,” I warn.
His smile doesn’t fade. He thanks me, but there is something about him I don’t like.
It’s not the fancy car nor the reckless way he was driving.
It’s his smirk, his focus on me, and the way he acts as if he’s untouchable.
Maybe he is in Nevada, but he is not here in Thunder Rock, and he is definitely not with the Vicious Reapers.
“Thank you, officer. I hope you have a safe night.”
Dipping my chin slightly, I take a step backward before I head back toward my car. I watch as he pulls away, a little slower than he was driving earlier, but not much. I lean back in my seat and wonder who the fuck that just was in my town.
I think about calling Bullet to ask if he recognizes his name, but don’t. There was something off with him. Something I did not like at all. I have a feeling I’ll see him again, but I’m not sure I want to.