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Missy didn’t own a pickup truck. And she certainly didn’t have the money to buy one either.
Something wasn’t right.
I tried to reason with myself. Maybe it was Johnny’s. Maybe he’d loaned it to her.
But something nagged at me.
Yesterday, Craig had bought a car.
Now Missy was driving a new pickup.
Things weren’t adding up.
Had Craig gotten her involved in something illegal?
Again, I tried to reason with myself. It wasn’t my problem anymore. Missy had shoved me out of her life with a big fuck you. I would probably never know why, and maybe it was better that way.
But at the end of the day she had been my friend, and I didn’t want her getting into any trouble because of her loser brother.
And this reeked of Craig.
Chance pulled up outside a diner called Perky’s, a coffee shop with shiny red booths and black-and-white checkered linoleum on the floor. We sat by the window overlooking the street and accepted menus from a waitress called Viola, who devoured Chance with her eyes. I was getting used to it. The Kings were a big deal in this town. Rock stars of the county. I got it.
But I couldn’t get Missy out of my mind. Or shake the thought that she’d gotten herself into something bad. Was it drugs? Had Craig stolen credit cards or gotten her mixed up in something equally as illegal?
It ate at me. So when I saw her pull up across the street from the diner, I couldn’t help myself; I had to know what was going on. I had to know she wasn’t involved in something that could send her to jail.
Without a word to Chance, I got up and burst out onto the sunny street and confronted her.
Missy looked surprised.
No. She looked busted.
“Cassidy, w-what are you d-doing h-here?” she stammered, glancing around us nervously. “I thought you left town.”
She had on a full face of makeup and the dress she wore was new. This close, I could smell the expensive perfume.
“Well, you thought wrong.” I looked over her shoulder at the shiny red pickup. “Nice pickup. Is it Johnny’s?”
“No.” She looked uncomfortable. “Why haven’t you left town? You were supposed to go yesterday.”
“Stop trying to change the subject. Who does the truck belong to?” I narrowed my eyes. She was up to something. She and Craig. “Oh my Lord, Missy, did you steal it? Did Craig make you do this?”
“No!” She raised her chin. “For your information, it’s mine.”
“Yours?” Two days ago, she didn’t have two pennies to rub together. Now she had a new car? “Where did you get the money to buy a pickup?”
When she looked away, the tingle of an alarm started at the base of my spine.
“Answer me.” I grabbed her wrist. “Missy, where did you get the money to pay for it?”
She yanked her wrist free. “Why didn’t you tell me you came from a rich family?”
Her words floored me. I mean, she couldn’t have surprised me more with a sledgehammer to the face.
I took a step back. “What do you mean?”
“All this time we’ve been struggling on the street, going without food, working our fingers to the bone, when all along you’re a rich girl.”
Panic rushed from my toes to my head, making me see stars and stealing the air from my lungs.
“I’m not rich,” I managed over the lump in my throat.
“Yes you are. Craig found out all about you online. Saw your missing person poster. Your real name is Chelsea. Your father is Kerry fucking Silvermane!”
My hand went to my stomach. I felt winded.
“My foster father,” I rasped.
“Whatever. He is worth billions. And he has been looking for you.”
“You contacted him?” I asked breathlessly.
Blood whirred in my ears.
“Not him, exactly. If you must know, we spoke to your brother.”
Oh God.
My knees went week.
“You don’t know what have you done,” I breathed out, dazed by the sudden knowledge that my life was in extreme danger.
If Missy noticed my panic, then she didn’t show it. In fact, she rounded on me like I had done something terrible to her by not letting her know where I came from.
“We went for days without anything to eat. Slept under bridges and in bus stops because we were so broke. We hitched rides with men we didn’t know. We went without so much, but all this time you were fucking rich!”
The footpath felt like liquid beneath me. I stumbled backward, fighting the bile rising in my throat.
“You told Barrett where I was.”
It wasn’t a question.
“For the right price,” she replied.
“He paid you?”
“There was a reward out for information on your whereabouts.”
I was going to be sick. My nightmare was coming to life.
“You just killed me,” I whispered, dizzy with fear.
But Missy simply scoffed, because not only didn’t she understand what she’d done, she didn’t care.
I needed to get out of there.
