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When I turned away from him, his hand gently reached out to grasp my chin and forced my gaze to his.
“If you really wanted to leave Waco, you would’ve demanded it. You would’ve kicked and screamed, you would’ve begged. You would’ve offered to trade in your piece of shit truck for a fucking Honda—something you can drive with a busted wrist. But you didn’t, did you? You put up the bare minimum fight. You know why?”
Mutely, I shook my head.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. “Because you don’t really want to run. And I make you feel something. Just like you make me feel something. So blame me if you want, but I know the truth. I know you want to stay. I know you want a home.”
His eyes bored into mine, daring me to dispute his statement. But the truth was, Colt saw past my words, past my weak arguments, and deep down he knew what I really needed.
He was giving me a way out. He’d shoulder the burden and say he’d made the choice for me.
But I was done hiding from life.
I was done living inside a box that constrained me and held nothing but misery. I reached out to stroke his cheek. He needed a shave. Colt always needed a shave.
“Why are we stopping here?” I asked.
He smiled as he turned his head to kiss my palm. “Best Mexican food in the city.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Best margaritas in the city too. Trust me, you’ll need tequila for this conversation.”
It was just past noon and all I’d had was coffee.
Coffee and fear.
The adrenaline dump and stress had drained me, and it took all of my willpower to climb out of Colt’s truck. It felt safe there, and I knew the moment we sat down at the restaurant Colt wasn’t going to hold anything back.
He took my hand and led me inside. I salivated immediately at the smell of tortillas and sizzling meat. A wave of hunger hit me hard and I wondered how I could possibly want to eat after what I’d just seen.
We followed the hostess to a booth and Colt took the seat across from me. “I’ll have a Dos Equis,” he said with a smile, refusing the menu from the waitress. “She’ll have a margarita on the rocks with salt and the cheese enchiladas.”
I glared at him, but didn’t protest.
The cute, curvy waitress eyed Colt one last time before disappearing. Maybe at another time I would’ve felt a spark of jealousy, but I’d had his fingers inside of me not even two hours ago. Not to mention Colt didn’t even spare her a glance.
It was the little things, I realized, that proved someone wasn’t full of shit. Colt told me I didn’t need to worry about him and other women, and I believed him. Not just because he’d told me to trust him, but because of that small action. It was like he didn’t even see her.
A few minutes later, the waitress returned with our drinks and a bowl of chips and salsa. I took a sip of the margarita. It was the perfect blend of tart and sweet and I couldn’t taste the tequila.
“Wow, yeah, this is dangerous,” I said to him.
“Yup.”
I set it aside and took a chip but didn’t eat it.
A glimpse of Richie’s burned corpse flashed before my eyes. “I don’t understand something,” I began.
He took a sip from his beer and waited for me to continue.
“Why did you come to Dive Bar with Zip that night? I’ve never seen bikers at Dive Bar. Did you have a hunch that Richie was into shady shit? Were you there to see if Dev showed up?”
“No. Like I said before: it was coincidence. You think I’d be beating the fuck out of some guy in the alley if I was there for Dev?”
“What do you think Richie got involved in?” I asked.
“Meth.”
