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13
BECK
Sloan spends the day shopping and comes back with… nothing.
“Have fun?” I ask with a grin.
I wait for her to smile back. It doesn’t happen.
Sighing, I hold out my hand. “Come on. I have an idea.”
She’s wary and I can’t blame her, because she isn’t going to like this. But that’s too damn bad. When I said I am going to do whatever I have to do to protect my family, I meant it.
Eventually, reluctantly, she takes my hand.
I lead her out to the garage. She follows me in the first two steps then grinds to a halt when she sees what’s waiting for her in the nearest bay.
“What the hell is this, Beck?”
She’s staring daggers at the gleaming Lamborghini SUV sitting under the spotlight. It’s a bright blue, her favorite color, with a gorgeous caramel leather interior. It’s also reinforced like a Panzer tank.
“You're scared to drive your car, so we're getting you a new one.”
“That is such a rich person's solution to a problem that is hardly a problem.”
“I think not being able to drive your car is a problem, darling.”
She huffs and puffs, too furious to speak for a minute. “I told you not to buy me a damn car, Beck. And where the hell ismycar?”
“I sent it to a peaceful junkyard in the sky.”
Her jaw flops open. “You had no right to do that!”
Whirling on her, I back her into the concrete wall until she’s pinned there with my hips and there’s nowhere for her to look but right in my eyes. “Sloan, you are carrying my baby. I will not have you driving around in a car with a rear fender held on by a sketchy weld and duct tape. You’re not carrying our son or daughter in some fucking jalopy with an engine that should come equipped with its own fire extinguisher.” I relent and lean back. “Besides, it was leaking oil all over my garage. It was time for it to go.”
“Carrying your baby is not a license for you to get rid of my property!” Her eyes are blazing with anger.
I shrug. “It’s already done.”
Her glare intensifies. “I don’t want your pity car, Beck. I wantmycar.” She shoves her door open and slides out. “There was nothing wrong with my fucking car.” I open my wallet and hold out the cash the salvage yard paid for the car. She looks at it like I just spat in her cornflakes. “I don’t want your bribe money, either.”
“It’syourmoney, Sloan.”
“No, it’s yours, and you can shove it up your ass.” Then she turns and stomps into the house, slamming the door behind her.
14
SLOAN
I last a week before I give in and drive the damn car.
I didn’t have a choice. I have to get my payment to the Bloodhound and this is my only option.
I drive the powder blue SUV through Seattle to the diner and pull into the lot. I can see Monroe through the window. She’s standing at a table, smiling at a customer. For a minute, I almost miss waiting tables. I liked the interaction with people. The only people I interact with now are all from Beck’s circle.
Not that they’re bad, or that I don’t like them—except Vivian, who can kick rocks as far as I’m concerned—but I liked being independent. Having my own friends. I miss that.
When I park and walk inside, Monroe laughs at me. No, not at me—over my shoulder. It’s only then that I remember the suited giant lurking behind me. The bodyguards don’t ride in the car with me anymore, but they’re always present.
