Page 25 of Spinner's Luck

Spinner didn’t respond right away. His boots scraped against the dock as he shifted, leaning a shoulder against the post beside me. His leather cut creaked with the movement, the smell of his cologne teasing my nose.

“The ones like you used to be?” he asked finally, his voice probing.

I flinched at the question, the hurt still raw. Turning away from him, I fixed my gaze on the rippling water. “Not me,” I said quietly, the words almost swallowed by the breeze. “But it is personal.”

The wind tangled my hair as I spoke, and I pushed it back with a frustrated swipe. “I want to make a difference, Spinner. Someone has to.”

“This isn’t a kid’s game,” he said, his voice laced with warning. “These men… they have no boundaries. They’ll kill you without thinkin’ twice.”

I let out a loud, humorless laugh and turned to him, my eyes meeting his. “It’s not just the men who do perverted shit, Spinner. The things I’ve seen? The things I’ve heard?” I shook my head, the weight of the memories pressing against my chest. “You’d be puking your guts out for hours if you knew half of it.”

Spinner’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he watched me. He looked like he wanted to say something but held back, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Do you work with anyone?” he asked finally. “The police?”

“If you’re asking if I’m a cop,” I said, my voice dry, “the answer is no. Half the cops out there are dirtier than the men and women I’m chasing. I don’t trust them.”

His brow furrowed, but I pressed on. “But I do have a friend,” I said, a small smirk tugging at my lips as I thought about Oliver. “He’s a genius behind a keyboard. We dig up what we can, get the evidence to stick, and pass it to someone on the inside, a woman we know we can trust.”

“So, you do trust someone,” Spinner said, a hint of surprise in his tone.

“It took years, but yeah,” I admitted, glancing back at the water. “They earned it.”

The dock creaked as he shifted closer, his presence suddenly impossible to ignore. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent.

I turned to face him fully, meeting his intense gaze. He wasn’t asking to tease or provoke me, he genuinely wanted to know.

“If I didn’t,” I said, holding his gaze, my expression unwavering, “I wouldn’t be standing here.”

Spinner’s lips parted, but I didn’t give him the chance to speak. “There was something about you,” I continued, my tone quieter now. “That first night, when we locked eyes at the bar… something told me I could trust you.”

His expression took on a troubled look. “I’ve been chasin’ my own demons for a long time, Lucy,” he said. “I get it, wantin’ to make a difference. But you’re not alone in this. Don’t go puttin’ yourself in danger.”

I swallowed hard, the sincerity in his voice cutting through my defenses like a blade. The dock swayed gently beneath us, the tide rising as the sun dipped lower.

Most people found it easier to look away, to pretend the horrors of sex trafficking weren’t real. Out of sight, out of mind. But something told me Spinner wasn’t like most people.

Spinner reached out, his hand brushing mine where it rested on the railing. The touch was brief, but it grounded me, pulling me back from the edge of my own thoughts.

“You’re safe as long as you’re here,” he said, voice firm. “And as long as I’m breathin’, no one’s layin’ a damn finger on you.”

I nodded, the words catching in my throat before I could say anything. The wind carried the sound of the water between us, a false sense of safety settling over the moment.

But I couldn’t shake the sickening dread in the back of my mind. I knew without a doubt that Drago and Fang were coming for me and Zeynep. The question wasn’tifthey’d find us, butwhen.

Spinner’s eyes locked onto mine, dark and knowing, like he could see the war raging inside me. “You’re tougher than most, Lucy,” he said, his voice all rumble, grit and certainty. “But don’t go thinkin’ you gotta take every hit alone. When the weight gets too damn heavy, I’m right here, you lean, or you break.”

I looked away, back to the water, feeling the weight of his words. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to let someone else shoulder the burden for once.

But trust came at a price, and I wasn’t sure I could afford to pay it—not when the cost might be Spinner’s life and my heart.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I SAT BACKin my chair, nursing a beer while my brothers banteredaround me. Chain leaned forward, his elbows resting on the scarred wood of the table, a grin curling his lips like he was about to stir the pot—or dive headfirst into some bullshit. Knowing him, probably both.

“You ever think about how weird ghosts are?” Chain asked, his eyes narrowing, a knowing smirk creeping in, like he was about to drop some backroad wisdom no one else had figured out yet.

Gatsby raised an eyebrow, barely glancing up from the deck of cards he was shuffling. “I’m assuming this is going somewhere,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, like he was narrating one of those old movies in his head.

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