Page 5 of Betrayed

At any rate, the work boots with their steel toes fit great, as does the leather bomber jacket he got me.I’mnot sure where he bought it—definitely notWalmart.It’smade of buttery brown leather and it fits me perfectly.Ialready love it—it feels like freedom to wear something with a metal zipper which is something we were denied in prison—(you can turn almost anything metal into some kind of weapon.)I’vegot the cell phone stowed in one pocket and my wallet, whichBransonthoughtfully loaded with cash, in the other.

At lastIreachSingingRock—so named because it’s not far from a rock formation that seems to “sing” when the wind blows through it.That’swhatSunnytold me anyway, in one of her letters.

It’s just a wide place in the road—one of those “blink and you’ll miss it” towns.Isee a tiny post office that’s sharing room with a small rural library, a gas station with a single pump, a convenience store that advertisesfresh vegetables and groceries!on a faded banner hung out front, a tinyBaptistchurch with a miniature steeple, and—sure enough—ThePieShopdiner.

There’s parking around the rear of the building—the parking lot has nearly been swallowed by the encroaching trees, butIfind a place for the truck and park it.It’slate for lunch and early for supper, but there are a few other cars and trucks scattered in the lot.

I get out of the truck and glance in the side mirror.Ascarred and tattooed man stares back.IhopeIdon’t scareSunny.Sheoften said she wished she could get a picture of me, but of courseIhad no way to take one for her and cell phones are strictly forbidden inCellblockC.Thatdidn’t stop some inmates from smuggling them in, but if you got caught it meant a month in solitary—Iwasn’t willing to risk that.

Solitary is fucking brutal, especially for aWere.Whena regular human man gets thrown in, he’s only got himself to worry about.ButtheWolfinside me craves stimulation and sensation like a drug addict cravesHeroin.Beinglocked in a dark concrete cell with no lights, no bed, no windows—no fucking nothing—was torture.Thesensory deprivation nearly drove me insane during the months whereIhad to endure my monthlyShiftdown there.That’swhy even being crammed into a three by five cage was better.

I try to put such thoughts out of my mind and shake off the bad memories.I’mfree now,Iremind myself.Iknow that lots of convicts getPTSDfrom their time in prison, butIhopeI’mnot one of them.I’mgoing to focus on the here and now and try to forget the past.Andright now my mission is to seeSunnyand play the part of the perfect big brother.

Taking a deep breath,Ihead for the door ofThePieShop.I’mgoing to keep this short and sweet and thenI’llbe on my way, back to my old life.

That’s whatItell myself, anyway.Ihave no idea that this one meeting withSunnyis about to change my life forever.

4

SUNNY

“Sunny?Orderup!”Cookieshouts through the window and rings the bell.

“Coming!”Icall back.Iput the check down forTableFiveand give the family sitting there a big smile. “There’sno rush on that, folks.Justwhenever you’re ready.”

They smile back and nod, still stuffing their faces with the pie of the day—my famousBlueberryBacon.Youwouldn’t think you could find a way to make those things go together, butImanaged it.Mommaalways saidIhad a real knack for baking andCookieseems to agree because he lets me try just about anything in the kitchen and it usually sells real well.

I hustle over to the window and pick up theBluePlateSpecialfor oldMr.CochranatTableThree.It’sheaped high withCookie’sspecial meatloaf, homemade mashed potatoes swimming in gravy, and a big portion of fresh green beans that have been stewed with fat back until they’re tender and delicious.Thewhole thing comes with one of my big, fluffy yeast rolls thatIbaked this morning.Ialmost always get toThePieShopearly soIcan do the baking before the morning rush begins.

I know it’s not a very glamorous life, living in tiny littleSingingRock, baking in the morning and waitressing the rest of the day, but it pays my bills.I’meven saving money to do some more college courses online.I’vedone several already and made really good grades—somedayI’llbe more than a waitress but for now,I’mcontent.

I have my regular customers and my boyfriend,Charles, who’s sweet as can be, andCookie, who’s a good boss, even if heiskind of grumpy at times.PlusIown my house free and clear—not everyone can say that these days.Mommaleft it to me when she passed and allIhave to do is keep up on the taxes.Imanage that all right, though sometimes things get a little tight if my tips aren’t good.

I’m in the act of setting theBluePlateSpecialdown in front of oldMr.Chochran—who comes in everyFridayfor the same thing—when the little bell over the diner’s door tinkles and someone new walks in.

It’s a man—an extremelybigman—he has to be over 6’6”.He’swearing a brown bomber jacket that can’t quite hide his muscles.Healso has on tight, new-looking jeans and work boots.Hishair is longish but clean, which is nice.Idon’t mind men with long hair providing they know how to care for it.

But it’s his face that really draws my attention.Hehas pale eyes like aHuskyand a scary-looking scar that runs through his left eyebrow and down to his cheekbone.Thatmust have been a close call—it’s clear he almost lost one of those pale, arresting eyes.Hisnose is sharp and his jaw is strong—Ithink he looks like the morally gray heroes in my dark romance books.Scarybut sexy at the same time.

Then he opens his mouth and rumbles my name.

“Sunny?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at me. “Isthat you?”

Realization breaks over me.It’shim!Afterall these years, it’s finallyhim!

TheBluePlateSpecialdrops from my nerveless fingers.Itlands on the table and gravy splatters everywhere.Mr.Cochrangives a grunt of protest butIdon’t even notice—I’mtoo busy running to greet my big brother.

“Kane!”Ishout, flinging myself into his arms.

He looks surprised but he catches me anyway asIlaunch myself at him.Iwrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, not caring that my powder blue waitressing uniform is riding up to show my thighs.

One ofKane’sarms goes around my waist and the other hand supports my bottom.Idon’t care—I’mjust so happy to see him!

“Kane—big brother!”Ibabble and cover his face with kisses.I’vebeen dreaming of this day for literallyyears—Ican’t believe it’s finally here!

My brother looks shocked whenIfinally stop kissing him but then a slow, almost shy smile, spreads across his scarred face.

“Sunny…baby sis,” he says, which is what he always calls me in his letters.Ican’t help noticing that he smellsreallygood—is he wearing cologne?Itjust makes me want to hang on to him and never let go.

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