An irate trucker flipped her the bird and yelled what looked like “Bitch.”
“Pull over,” I ordered, snapping the radio off. “Now.”
She veered hard toward the shoulder and lurched to a stop. The chassis was still writhing when I ripped my seatbelt off, hopped out, and cut around the hood.
I banged a knuckle on the window. “Scoot over. I’m drivin’.”
Traffic whizzed by. She shoved the door open and slid to the passenger side like a pissed off toddler who’d just been sent into time out.
We sat in silence. Me with an elbow latched to the window, my head propped on a fist. She forked her fingers through her hair and her bangs hovered over the back of her hand. She’d been wound tighter than a ball of yarn all day, and I feared she was about to unravel.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Her phone jangled. She snatched it from her pocket, then rolled her eyes at the incoming number. She didn’t answer the call, just tossed the gadget into her purse.
“Shannon?”
She let out a slow breath. “I don’t know what’s real.”
“So you’ve been stewing this whole time?”
She stared daggers into the windshield. “More like boiling.”
I stayed put. Coddling, she didn’t need. A listening ear would do her much better. “It’s a lot to digest,” I said.
“Not only do I have to get hypnotized again, I’ll probably be in therapy for the rest of my life! And why? Because my godfather went poking around in my head. I knew they were lying, but now that I’ve got proof….” She turned her angry eyes on me. “How can you just sit there? This doesn’t disturb you?”
It did, but my anger would only fuel hers. Strange that I was even thinking this way—rationally. Before, I’d’ve kicked ass and asked questions later, but the stuff with Bev and Icky taught me a crucial lesson. After all was said and done, I was still alone and missing the hell out of my sister.
The lecture Doc had given me in private right before we’d left put things into perspective. If I didn’t get a handle on my rage, I’d be looking at the other side of those prison bars again. There was too much I wanted to do. Like go to college. Start a renovating business—maybe even open up a dance studio. Buy a house. Get married. Have some kids—
I blinked. Whoa. What the—
“Trace?” Her eyes questioned me. “Aren’t you angry?”
I blinked again to clear my head, then chose my words with care. “Yeah, I’m angry, and I want justice. But this isn’t about me right now. It’s about you. And you’re in a better position to get to the truth. They screwed with your head.” I paused. “So what do you want?”
“What do I want?” Red flamed her cheeks. She drew herself up and exploded. “I want them to tell the truth for once! I want them to stop making me think I imagined it all—that I’m crazy! I need them to pay for what they did to you and your family. And to me!” She scowled. “Let’s just go.”
“Where?”
She yanked the seatbelt over her chest, drove it home. “To Roanoke. To see my godfather.”
“But he’s here.”
Her expression brightened. “Since when?”
“Cholly saw him this morning when Eddie came by to fill up. Gray was in the passenger seat. Cholly said he looked like he’d lost a lot of weight. I heard he was in town ‘cause Dee Dee had her baby last night.”
Her lips thinned. “This works out perfectly. Let’s go.” She took out her cell phone and started poking buttons. “And I’m going to record everything. We’ve got a One-Party-Consent law in this state, so I don’t even have to tell him.”
Oh, hell no. She needed—heck, we needed a break from all this shit. “You’re in no condition to tussle with Gray and neither am I. We’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”
“What’s wrong with today?”
“Just look at you,” I said. “Your head’s about to explode.”
She snapped her arms together. “I don’t care. I want to see him now.”
“And people in hell want ice water.” I calmly flipped the car into gear, then delivered a look that dared her to test me. “We’re not going today and that’s the end of it.”
She jerked her head around and glared daggers out of the passenger window. “Fine. Then take me home. Gerard and I can pick up my car tomorrow!”
“That’s a negative too. You’re liable to rip somebody a new asshole.” I pulled back into traffic. “I’ve got a better idea. Just trust me, okay?”
SHANNON
____________________________
Trace skidded to a stop. “Had enough?”
“Again!” Giggling, I adjusted my helmet, then tied my arms back around his waist. “Only this time, go faster.”
He laughed and gunned the engine. “You asked for it. Hold on.”
The Harley lurched forward, spewing a white cloud into the wind as we took yet another lap around Miller’s Pond—our sixth. The cold weather had turned the earth into cement, but the bike’s studded tires easily ground the dirt to powder. I rested my head against Trace’s back and squeezed him in gratitude. I’d wanted to scream when he’d refused to take me to Uncle Jackson, but he’d known exactly what I needed—as always.
Once we’d circled the pond six more times, Trace parked the bike and we settled between a clutch of evergreens. For the next hour, we huddled shoulder-to-shoulder beneath a thick brown quilt, sharing a thermos of hot cocoa. A gray blanket lay under us. We sat in companionable silence, watching nature in all its glory beneath the burnished gold of the setting sun. Black birds flitted from tree to tree while a gaggle of geese pecked the ground. A white-tailed doe and her baby warily approached the icy pond, but when a chainsaw echoed in the distance, the mother lost her nerve and scurried off into the brush. Her skittish fawn followed in hot pursuit.
“Warm enough?” he asked curling an arm around me.
I nodded as he polished off the rest of the cocoa.
He nudged his chin at our surroundings. “Who needs drugs when we’ve got this? Three hours ago you were spitting nails and now….”
“I’m docile,” I said with a smile.
Trace grinned and lifted his face to the darkening sky. “It was always magical here.”
“Like a little slice of heaven.” I breathed in a lungful. “After today’s madness, I needed this. Thanks for dragging me.”
I inched up to peck his cheek, but things didn’t go as planned. Somehow, my ‘peck’ missed his cheek and landed on the corner of his mouth. This led to a kiss, then another, until our kisses slowly morphed into a carnal feeding frenzy—five and a half mindless minutes of roving hands, seeking lips, probing tongues, and heavy breathing.
Would I never learn ‘pecks’ were impossible for us?
Trace was first to pull away. “Shannon,” he breathed. “I’m not up for another palm-pilot episode. We gotta stop.”
I stared back at him in desperation, breasts heavy, panties wet, my chest pumping as fast as his. Obviously, he’d reached his limit, but I craved what he’d given me up against that wall in his house. With my world falling apart, I needed to forget about hypnosis, my lying family…and my fiancé.
I needed to get lost in Trace.
So I kissed him again, only this time taking great care to tease a response out of him. Once I eased back to gauge his reaction, he swallowed and sucked in an unsteady breath, but he didn’t move. Just watched me intently and waited. Rising up, I hesitated before straddling his lap. I felt reckless, wild, and out of control—and I liked it. Loved it, actually.
He did too.
The heat in his gaze said it all.