“She told the keeper who came in to check on us the next day that she had information. She wanted to strike a deal.” Jennastudies the scrunched paper in her hands. “I knew what she was going to say.” Her brow pinches. “Now I’m not so sure.”
“You thought she’d tell who your father is.”
“Exactly.” She draws a deep breath. “It would have been enough for her to bargain freedom—drugs maybe—Smoke knowing he had me.” Her throat bobs, fingers clenching tighter. “I confronted her after everyone had gone to sleep again, and she said anyone would do the same. She was set on using me as her golden ticket. Next thing I remember, I was pushing her head into the ground, and she wasn’t making noise anymore.” A shaky breath fills her lungs.
“But you came out of it unharmed?” Did Mary-Beth even fight back? Or did Jenna ambush her?
“Look closer.” She leans in, tilting her head to the left to gesture to her neck.
At first all I see is the ink of her tattoo, but the longer I study the floral pattern, the more I see it between the shading—redness. “She tried to choke you?”
“Hit me a few times, too.” Jenna lifts my sweater and the T-shirt underneath, revealing bruising on her side.
“How the fuck did nobody else notice what was going on?” Surely that kind of ruckus would wake the others.
“I think they drugged the water they gave us in the afternoon.” She covers herself again and then sets the blanket over her bare feet and legs. “I noticed Mary-Beth didn’t drink it the two nights before, so I didn’t either that last time.”
Fuck me.Makes sense, though. Ensured none of them would try to escape during the quiet hours. I straighten on the stump and lean back to study her some. Although this doesn’t change anything from what we already knew, it sure sheds a whole new light on it. Would I have done it in her position? If I were held captive and recognized by a rival club member, would I kill to protect my identity and safety?Of course I would.
So how can I negatively judge her for doing the same?
Simple. I don’t.
“I was so stupid,” Jenna says, drawing me from my thoughts, distress entering her weakened words again. “So fucking naive to think my dad was right.”
“You did the best with what you knew at the time.” A mantra I tell myself often.
“It wasn’t hard to know better.” She stares me in the eye, imploring me to agree. “I grew up knowing who my father was, seeing his club around town. I grew up seeing my parents fight the few times they did cross paths. I grew up with strange people near our house. With my mom sneaking out in the middle of the night when she thought I was asleep and coming home distraught. Or getting home from work before her shift ended without her uniform anymore. I knew,” Jenna says, holding a fist to her heart. “I saw it all right in front of me, and I thought I was smarter. I thought my father could do better. Be better.”
And don’t I understand that—the moral obligation to an immoral parent. The desire for them to be who you wish they were, not who they really are. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Really?” she scoffs. “Because I didn’t see anyone with a gun to my head when I walked into that roadhouse. I didn’t see anyone there holding my arm behind my back when I killed Mary-Beth. I think this is nothing but my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” I growl, grasping her wrists. “People make all sorts of bad decisions when under duress. Do you blame a beaten woman for staying? A soldier for killing an innocent man simply because he wears a different uniform? Because both of those scenarios aren’t so different from yours. Desperate hours call for desperate action.”
She’s stiff in my grasp, but she doesn’t try to pull away. “I’m not a good person, Fang.”
“Guess what, Freckles. Neither am I.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
JENNA
I hate everything he represents,and yet each time I seek safety and understanding, there he is.I hate that I feel this way for him.
“If you want to take the power away from your father,” Fang says. “Then hand him over and let us use him to stop the Devil’s Breed from hurting more women.” He tenses. “Hurting children. You don’t have to be directly involved.”
His grip around my wrists is a brand, warm and impossible to ignore.
Why are his eyes so engaging? So captivating?Stop it.
“Ineedto be involved.”
“Why?” Fang releases his hold, easing back.
“Because that’s how I solvemyproblem.” I peer up at him and find nothing but raw confusion and a hint of frustration. “Mom was sick for a long time. She was uninsured and didn’t qualify for most of the medical aid options. When she couldn’t pay the out-of-pocket expenses, she got help from the only person she knew could afford to: my dad. We didn’t know until later that he’d borrowed the sum from the Devil’s Breed.”
Fang swallows, straightening on the stool, his inked hands resting atop his thighs. He looks away and draws a deep breath. “And now they want their money back.”
