Page 183 of Property of Whiskey

“For now.”

“You can’t be serious. Twila, he abducted you.”

“I’m aware.”

“He’s a criminal.”

“Also aware.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“Very aware.”

Whiskey looks far too pleased with that answer.

I point at him without turning. “Stay out of it.”

“No promises.”

Cal steps closer. “Come with me.”

“No.”

“I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

“No.”

“Your dad…”

“Stop.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Then listen.”

His jaw works before he says, “This ain’t you.”

I laugh, but there ain’t anything funny in it.

“What ain’t me?”

“This.”

“What is this?”

“You running around with bikers. Ignoring your father. Acting like danger’s some fucking game.”

Behind me, Whiskey stops moving entirely. That’s how I know he’s listening harder.

Cal doesn’t notice.

“You think I’m playing?”

“I think you get stubborn when people tell you no.”

“Interesting.”

“You always have.”