Page 13 of Goose's Wren

This isn’t some under-the-table kitchen gig or weed trimming.This is the kind of job that involves back rooms and guns with people that have nothing to lose.People even Tim’s scared of, though he’ll never admit it.

Still, I nod and head to the back room without another word.

I change fast.Black jeans, clean tee, scuffed boots.Something that won’t draw attention.

Something I can run in, if I have to.I shove my bag under the mattress not wanting to bring it with me.Not when I know he’ll be watching me like a hawk the whole damn night.

When I come back out, he’s already lit a smoke, pacing by the door.

“You ready?”he asks without looking at me.

No.I’ll never be ready for any of this.But I nod anyway.“Yeah.Let’s go.”

The ride to the Blackcat is quiet, except for the buzz of the broken window rattling every time we hit a bump and the occasional snort from Tim as he mumbles to himself.

I keep my eyes out the window, heart beating heavily in my chest like it knows danger lies ahead and wants no part of it.

The parking lot is already half full by the time we pull in, the sun dipping behind the hills, throwing long shadows across the cracked pavement.

Bikes are lined up near the front, chrome flashing in the last light.A few pickups.One sleek black car I don’t recognize.That must be who he’s meeting.

Tim kills the engine and leans back, taking a deep breath like he’s about to put on a mask.I reach for the door handle, desperate to just get it over with but he grabs my wrist before I can open it.

“Hey,” he says, and I already hate his tone.Too smooth.Too rehearsed.

I turn slowly.“What?”

He looks at me like I’m slow.“The guy I’m meeting?He’s got a thing for pretty little brunettes.”

I stare at him.My pulse starts pounding.

He grins like this is funny.“So you’re gonna be nice, yeah?Smile, laugh at his jokes.Flirt a little.Make him feel like he’s the smartest guy in the room.Whatever it takes to get him talking.”

“No,” I say flatly.“Absolutely not.”

His face darkens.“You think I’m bringing you along for the company?”he snaps.“You want to eat, don’t you?You want a roof?If this guy likes you.You charm him, we’re in.We get work.”

I shake my head.“I’m not pimping myself out so you can score some shady job.”

Wrong answer.

Before I can even reach for the door again, he lunges across the seat, grabs my arm and yanks me toward him, fingers digging hard into my shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid, Wren,” he growls, voice low but dangerous.“This is how the world works.You play your part, or you make shit worse.For both of us.”

I twist away, fury burning in my throat.“Let go of me!”

We’re out of the car now, walking toward the bar, but I don’t get three steps before he grabs my arm again and shakes me hard enough to rattle my teeth.

“You listen when I talk to you,” he hisses.“You don’t get to have opinions.Not tonight.”

My breath stutters in my chest, rage mixing with old fear, the kind I thought I buried years ago but keeps coming back every time he lays a hand on me.

I wrench away and glare at him.“If you want to whore yourself out for work, go right ahead.But don’t you dare ask me to sell pieces of myself so you can feel like a man.”

He steps toward me again, jaw tight, eyes wild, but then there’s voices.From the porch.Laughter.A couple bikers coming out for a smoke I think.

But Tim freezes, right as a giant man throws him down into the dirt.As I look at the man's back, it only takes a second for my brain to realize who it is.

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