“I can’t rule it out.” The asshole doubles down on his ignorance. “You have to admit it was awfully coincidental.”
“So, I what? Just fucking sent our location to him via telepathy?” I brace myself with one arm on the table and a hand to the back of the booth seat to straighten my spine. “You saw Darko give me a new phone right before it happened. Tell me how your theory makes sense, Fang.”Fuck him.
He stiffens. “Been eating here for years, Freckles, and never once had to deal with my food being delivered by truck.” Instead of admitting he’s wrong, the bastard deflects back to me.Smart-mouthed mother fu?—
“They didn’t have your food, Daddy.”
Bless Molly’s cotton socks. Her naive comment knocks the wind out of Fang’s interrogation.
“That’s not what I meant, honey.”
“But it’s what you said.” She licks the spoon. “Momma always says only speak the words you mean.”
“Does she now?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Mm-hmm.”
Marty appears over Fang’s shoulder, thumbs hooked into his utility belt. “A word?”
“Sure.” The prick sets Molly down beside me, not saying a damn thing, but glaring at me hard enough there’s no missing the message.“If you so much as harm a hair on her head…”Yeah, yeah. Settle down.
Fang steps aside with the sheriff, hands to his hips as they talk. I use the last clean napkin to wipe Molly’s mouth, rage still buzzing like a live wire along my nerves. The girl yawnspartway through, eyes heavy with the burden of a long day. It’s barely after eight, but I guess whatever energy the kid had left got zapped the minute that truck crashed in.The Kid.My pulse spikes.Has anyone checked?
“Hey,” I call across to Nibbles. “Has anyone checked on the others?”
His brow furrows, and he returns focus to Marty who hasn’t stopped yapping.
Fuck me.I get out of the booth and stride over to the men.Do I have to do everything myself?“Has anyone checked on the others?” I repeat. “Darla, Kathy, Anna. What if this was a distraction?” What if they didn’t want to harm us at all? I mean, if they wanted to inflict real damage, all they had to do was drive another yard or two. But they didn’t. Why?
Marty stops talking during my tirade, glancing down at me as though frustrated I’ve dared to use my voice.
“Don’t know, Jenna,” Fang snaps. “Been kinda busy dealing with this mess.”
The men resume their conversation, talking about Smoke, the trafficking ring, and for some goddamn reason, Wings of Faith.
“Can you check, please?”
Fang sighs heavily. “In a minute.”
“Now.”
His stare grows murderous. “In. A minute.”
Fuck this.I’m tired of being ignored. Tired of being dismissed as a silly little woman with petty little woman concerns. Treated as lesser because of who my father is. “Give me your phone, then.”
Marty’s head rears back a little.Yeah, I know—the audacity, right?
“Why?” Fang asks slowly.
“So I can call someone myself,” I answer with equal sarcasm.
“Excuse me.” He lifts an apologetic palm to Marty and then uses the same hand to grip me by the bicep—hard—and drag me aside. “What are you doing?” The words are hissed from the corner of his mouth.
“Trying to find out if this is the only place they targeted.”
“Why do you think this wouldn’t be their only target?” Piercing teal eyes dig into mine.
“Why do you think that it is?” I shake my head in disbelief. “If they’re mad about losing us, wouldn’t it make sense to go afterallof us?”
