Page 16 of Penn

“I’m pretty, Penn. And I don’t mean that in a conceited way. I mean that in a no-one-thinks-I-have-a-brain kind of way. And I let him prove them right.”

Dixie’s right. She is pretty. And the general consensus tends to be that pretty women aren’t bright. It’s not right or factual, but it’s the way it’s been for centuries, I’m sure. But I never once thought she was stupid. In fact, it’s ludicrous for her to even suggest it.

“No, he didn’t prove anyone right,” I say. “Anyone who has heard you give a snappy comeback can see how smart you are. No one stupid has that much wit. And don’t ever let a man make you doubt your self-worth. He took advantage of your trust, but that doesn’t make you a monster.”

“What does it make me?”

“It makes him a monster.”

She takes a long breath and slowly lets it out, followed by another, and she pulls from my grasp. I don’t want to let her go, but I don’t have much of a reason not to.

“Give me his name, Dixie.”

Shaking her head, she leans back. “No.”

“If he did this, I can make sure he pays for it.”

“I know how you and your club make people pay for things. You use your fists and God only knows what else, and he has a family. As much as I hate him right now, they don’t deserve to have their lives ripped apart.”

“He burned your house down. And he did it thinking you were inside. That’s premeditated murder.”

Dixie licks her lips, and I hate how my mind immediately goes to the dirty place. What her tongue and lips would feel like below my belt. I bet she’s pretty fucking fantastic on her knees.

“We don’t know that for sure. And I can’t have that on my conscience, Penn. As much as it doesn’t make sense to you, I can’t live with that. Not when he has three young children at home who probably think he’s the world’s greatest dad.”

I look at her and take in her messy blonde hair, the dark circles of exhaustion paired with puffy eyes from crying, and the way she still trembles slightly despite it not being cold in the house. I’m glad she agreed to come here, otherwise I’d be taking up post outside a grungy motel to keep the meth heads and Billy Badasses away.

“Once I get the insurance figured out, I can get out of your hair,” she says.

“You’re not going anywhere, Dixie. Not unless you tell me who this asshole is. It’s not safe for you.”

“This isn’t your problem, Penn.”

“You’re carrying a child. You need to think about what’s safest for you and for that little one growing inside you. And staying here takes away this dickhead’s access to you.”

Her eyes study me for a few moments before she nods. “Okay.”

“I got some vitamins for you, too. There’s bodywash in there, so you may not be able to wash your hair, but you can shower when you want.”

A small, grateful smile appears, and I almost can’t breathe as it makes my chest swell. Who knew such a small gesture could mean so damn much?

Dixie kisses my cheek before standing and walking back to the guest room with the shopping bags. I collapse against the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. The house is quiet again, but it doesn’t feel empty anymore. It feels like something I may not be quite ready for, but I’ll be damned if I run away from it.

Chapter 7

Dixie

The morning didn’t do much to make me feel like things were on the upswing. I thought seeing my home burning down on live TV was going to be the worst. Until I realized after I showered that I’m putting on big box store panties and clothes from the night before because I have literally nothing else.

Penn had breakfast made and ready when I came out, and I have to admit that it’s kind of nice feeling doted on. I’m always the one who takes care of others, and knowing I’m going to be doting on another human for the rest of my life both thrills me as well as fills me with dread.

I will be solely responsible for making sure this tiny human stays alive. Alive, healthy, and happy. That’s a tall order for someone who doesn’t even have a roof of her own.

Now, we’re sitting in Penn’s pickup as we drive to Castlerock to hit up the mall there. I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be able to afford with the small amount I have sitting in my bank account, though. I do still have about a thousand dollars that Stephen tossed at me in my purse, but I don’t think that’ll get me very much nowadays. Especially at a mall.

I glance in the side mirror and notice two motorcycles following behind us. The clean-shaven jaw of Capone jumps out at me. That man is a walking contradiction. Or, riding, I suppose. He looks like he should be wearing an expensive three-piece suit and driving luxury cars. Total mob like. But he wears leather, has slicked-back black hair, and a clean jaw. Which I think makes him the only one in the club without a beard. Or scruff. The man’s always pristine.

Then there’s Kannon behind us. I don’t know the story behind Kannon, but he’s the complete opposite of Capone. Ragged would describe him best. He’s almost always drinking—unless he’s riding—with unruly hair that could use a good trim and a bushy beard that’s long enough that he ends up eating his mustache most of the time. He’s got demons I can only imagine.