Page 137 of Dark Surrender

“I’m serious. I’ll do it. Get your girl. Woman. Whatever.”

“We aren’t doin’ that.”

“If Kali’s with someone, you bet your ass, I’m buryin’ him in the same pile I buried all her stalkers.” Pops’ jaw clenches, and I know better now than to press any further, or he’s liable to get mad, and that’s the last thing I wanna deal with right now.

As if she knew we were talking about her, the black and white ball of fur pops her head out from behind a bush.

Scooting off the bench and onto the ground in front of it, I prop myself against the stone. Rubbing my fingers together, I make pst, pst sounds to encourage this menace to, at the very least, come kick my ass. Doc can patch me up, and there’s not much she can do to me that hasn’t already been done.

They’ve got lots of wild cats here. Back where we’re from, we call them barn cats, but they don’t live in a barn here. They live in an old, rusted-out car on the edge of the property, with dry-rotted tires and a missing windshield. The little kids around here play with them and bring them random bits of food, but the adults pretty much ignore them, except for us.

“You were serious,” Dad comments as the kitten crawls closer, on alert.

“About her?” I notch my chin at the cute little thing. “Yeah. She’s gonna die if we leave her here. If she ends up liking us enough, maybe we can smuggle her into the house.”

Pops snorts as the kitten stops a few feet from my dirty shoes and lowers herself to the ground. My dad’s knee knocks into the side of my shoulder in a do-you-see-this way, and yeah, I see her. She’s all cute with her pink nose and yellow eyes. We stay quiet and wait her out. When she thinks she’s lulled us into a false sense of security, she pounces and attacks the fuck outta my shoe, teeth and claws, and a feral cry.

We bust up laughing.

“Yeah, get him,” he encourages.

Oh. She does. The adorable ball gives it her all. She’s a feisty little beast and will make an amazing addition to our lives.

When she’s through kicking my foot’s ass, she bats at my shoelaces and takes her crazy from a solid ten down to a four.

“I’ll find her a crate before we leave,” Pops says as he reaches down to pat her fluffy head.

Before we leave. Which means soon.

Folding my hands in my lap, I tip my head back, close my eyes, and sigh.

I’m alive.

Fed. Warm. In good company.

A little fucked up.

I guess that’s all gotta count for something, right?

Even if I miss my family.

And…I miss her.

Soon.

I’ll be home soon.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

ELEVEN MONTHS

Dark

Reaching around my van seat, I snatch a small plastic bowl off the floor, set it in my lap, and rip open one of those tuna-lick packets for Sal as a treat, hoping she’ll calm down and stop racing around like a lunatic in the backseat, bouncing off our bedrolls and luggage.

When I set it on the floor, she dives in like a fiend.

Pops whistles and snaps his fingers for me to check outside.