Page 50 of Wild Devil

DAZE

I can’t help it. I need to see her face when we leave the city. As expected, a mixture of shock and confusion flood those beautiful damn eyes once Westpoint has faded into the distance. A swath of green spread out beneath a gray sky is all that lies ahead of us. She doesn’t question me out loud, though. Instead, she keeps her gaze on the tinted windows of the truck in a subtle display of trust that blows my mind.

There is an entire police force searching for her, including her father’s flunkies. Nevertheless, she can doze beside me, completely free of tension. Not for a moment do I take that trust for granted.

Damien’s intel must have been spot on, because this way out of Westpoint seems clear. No one other than the average trailer or camper heading for a weekend getaway has passed us so far.

We might as well be in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere.

As a result of the monotony, my mind starts to wander. Mainly toward Frey and her silence after my prior confession. I love you, Frey.

It’s cliché as hell to feel this way, but it stings that she didn’t say it back. Like a teenager, I was caught up in a whirlwind of hormonal affection, only to realize that the person I’ve been fucking only wanted that from me and nothing else. Sex.

Can I even blame her? No. Do I still want more?

Hell yes.

Call me pussy-whipped, but I would give anything in the world to hear those words trickle out of her mouth. To know that she feels the same for me. However, dwelling on it right now won’t help.

As she stirs sleepily and opens her eyes, I plaster a fake fucking grin on my face.

“Hey, how you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” she says, turning toward me. “Where are we going?”

I bite down on my lip and contemplate telling her the full truth or a mere summary of events. In the end, I settle for a compromise between both. “Damien knows a place just outside of town where we can lie low for a while. Knowing him, it’s no luxury paradise, but I’m sure it’s better than squatting behind a piece of plywood.”

And, if Ben’s description was anywhere close to accurate, we have to hope that the police don’t catch wind of the less-than-legal means by which the place was obtained. In the meantime, it’s the only safe option we’ve got. When I look back at Frey, she doesn’t crack a smile and I sense that there’s more than exhaustion to her current mood.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, turning away. A sigh comes before I can demand a real answer. “I should be there with you, fighting to take down my father. Not sunbathing by a lake. I’m not some weak, helpless idiot. Not anymore.” Her arms are crossed, and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. It’s so damn stubborn that a smile tugs on my mouth in response.

“I know that. Better than anyone, I know that.”

She keeps her gaze averted away, and I know better than to push the issue.

“Look, we can talk about this later, okay?” I murmur, turning back to the road. “Besides. Looks like we’re already here.”

Legalities aside, Damien came through. A modest cabin is visible on a ridge near the end of a long, winding road. While it’s no five-star resort, it’s a step up from some shitty warehouse at the heart of a building war between the gangs and the police. It also seems to have one main access point via this very road, which I’m sure Kane has scoped out to hell and back. If the man has even a fraction of the experience he claims to, then they probably saw us coming from a mile away.

Sure enough, the second we pull up, a familiar figure appears at the end of the driveway.

“It’s about damn time,” Lyra mutters as I roll down the window. “I was worried sick about you. Next time, you warn me that your idea of ‘safe’ involves some random place in the boondocks?—”

“Daddy!” A tiny figure comes running from inside the cabin at full speed. He’s barefoot in bright-blue pajamas with bears printed all over them. His beaming grin is a direct contrast to the pissed, fully dressed Lyra, who looks like living hell, armed with a juice box and a cell phone.

“Sam, get back inside! I don’t want you running around in this place. Be careful! And you—” Her eyes land on me, narrowed to slits. “As I was saying, it’s nice to finally get a meeting with the man of the hour. You made such a show of shitting on Silas for what he dabbles in, but here I see that you’ve been rebuilding your own little biker gang all this time. Time you could have spent with someone else, mind you.”

I grit my teeth as I park and step out of the truck. “Can we save the lecture for later?”

Lyra scoffs but shrugs. “Fine. To be fair, this place isn’t too bad. The cabin itself is small, though, with just two bedrooms. Me and Sam have already claimed one and the big guy, Kane, has been taking the couch. I suppose you and your guest can decide amongst yourselves who gets the other bed.”

She ushers us forward with a wave of her hand and traipses up the narrow, rickety steps to the large wooden door that serves as the main entrance. Once inside, I see that Lyra’s description of the place was less than accurate—it’s fully outfitted with a TV and apparently Wi-Fi, judging from the laptop that Kane has balanced on his lap while seated on a plaid couch. Not to mention, air conditioning keeps the place at a comfortable temperature, unlike the sweltering warehouse we’ve held up in.

“Hey, Daze.” Kane acknowledges me with a nod while barely taking his eyes off the computer screen. “I’ve been keeping an eye out. No trouble so far.”

I return his nod while still following Lyra. Past him are the two rooms with a view of the water.

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