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“But…” She looks around the room with wide eyes. “Where will I go?”
“You’ll be with me. Always.” I bring her close, parting her lips in a long, damp kiss, before pulling back and framing her face in my hands. “Do you still want to be with me?”
“Yes. Of course,” she whispers. “Sometimes things don’t happen so easy, though.”
A sense of foreboding creeps over me, but I knock it aside. “Come to me tomorrow, Hailey. Be ready to move.”
“And I’ll finally get to study your nose in the light?”
I laugh and kiss her hard. “As long as you want.”
Leaving her so small and vulnerable on the bed is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I manage to make it downstairs by the two-minute mark, pretending to do too many vodka shots so I can leave as fast as possible. I’ve got plans to make.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hailey
I run my fingers along the soft bristles of my paintbrushes and stare out over the canyon. Is Mick out there somewhere waiting for me? My heart lifts just thinking about him. About his giant, sturdy frame and his bristly beard. About the way he can’t help looking at me. Even last night while he called me names and spoke to me in such a mean way, he probably didn’t realize his eyes never got on board with the lie. They never stopped looking at me like I was a princess.
The clock on the wall says eleven fifty-five. My backpack sits by the door, packed with only the essential supplies. A week’s worth of panties, my toothbrush, two changes of clothing and my oil paints. Mick might not think my paints are worth packing, but he will soon. He’ll know I can’t go a day without putting brushstrokes on a canvas. Or that my talent has been abused by my father.
I have to tell him everything.
Panic slinks down my spine. What will Mick say when he finds out I’m not just an innocent bystander of my father’s crimes. I’m a…participant.
This is a huge leap of faith I’m taking, sharing the weight of my baggage with Mick. I’ve spent years and years listening to my father curse the feds, sneering and calling them dogged and ruthless. Once I tell Mick I’m the one who paints the counterfeit artwork for my father to fence, will he want to use me to bring down my father? Will I go to prison, too? Or will Mick be true to his word and protect me?
Can anyone protect me from my father?
Needing comfort, I pick up one of my paintbrushes, twisting the bristles along the crease of my lips. But my actions pause when an official-looking vehicle rolls to a stop in the driveway. My heartbeat raps in my ears. The cops? This is what Mick meant when he promised to get my father out of the house?
A man in a polo shirt and slacks climbs out of the car, ringing the doorbell downstairs a moment later. I run to my bedroom door and inch it open, listening to the conversation that is already in progress.
“An irrigation disruption,” my father says flatly. “What the fuck is that?”
“One of the pipes burst higher in the hills,” the uniformed man responds, though I have to strain to hear him. “There’s a threat of mudslides and flooding until we get it fixed. We’re evacuating your home, along with several others. It’s just a safety precaution, sir.”
There’s a long pause wherein I can almost sense my father’s suspicion. “Let me see some credentials, please.”
“Sure thing,” the man says brightly. “Should only be a couple hours and we’ll have the problem repaired. You’ll be able to return home.”
“This is a huge inconvenience.”
“I know, sir. I apologize. Is there anyone else at home?”
A large part of me wants him to say no. If he says no and leaves, I’ll be free to escape the house and go to Mick. But inside me, there’s some remnant of the child I used to be, because I’m also holding my breath, wondering if just this once, my father will care enough about me to wish me safe, too.
“Nyet,” he says finally. “Just me.”
Between what he did last night and disregarding my life so easily—I’m done. I’m not going to let my father hurt me anymore. And I’m not going to be a pawn in one of his many money-making schemes, either.
I shoulder my backpack and wait at the tinted window for my father to get in his car and leave. Absently, I wonder if the uniformed man was also a fed. Or if the FBI and Mick have pull with city organizations. He must. Otherwise, he went up into the hills and busted the irrigation pipe himself.
The image of Mick swinging an axe makes me laugh and in no time, I’ve picked the lock with my makeshift key and I’m jogging down the stairs of my father’s house, already tasting freedom. Twice in just over a week! And maybe forever. Mick coming through on his word and getting my father out of the house has me feeling confident. Maybe this could really work. I can be free. I can be with Mick.
