by Snow, Nicole
“We left early this morning just like we planned. Had to change a tire on the truck halfway through Minnesota, then this snowstorm we ran into...we had to pull over. But we’re coming tonight, just a few more hours and—”
“Oh,” she whispers.
Another heavy silence.
That one, innocent word kills me.
Don’t do this, Noelle, I think to myself, trying not to fall over with my heart frozen.
“I...I really hoped I’d catch you while you were still at home.”
My nerves are a jumbled mess, a little more frayed with every word she speaks. Noelle doesn’t sound like her usual bubbly self, and I’m scared of what’s coming.
“What’s up?” I force the question through clenched teeth. “Noelle...what happened?”
“Well, uh...God, I hate to say this, but...something’s come up. You and Uncle Nelson aren’t going to be able to stay with us after all.”
No.
My heart hits my stomach and shatters like a snow globe on cement.
“I’m so sorry, Grace,” Noelle says, sniffing like she’s on the verge of tears. “I hope you have somewhere else.”
Sure.
If we had somewhere else, I’d have never called her and wept with gratitude when she said we could come. It’s not like we were asking to move in.
We only needed a month or so, a few weeks, just enough time to check on Dad’s health and figure out our next move.
“What changed, Noelle?” I ask. Then, because she’s known to sugarcoat things, I add, “Tell me the truth.”
Her sad, heavy sigh echoes in the phone.
“I didn’t hear the message. James did. It was on the voicemail at the gift shop. It mentioned you and Uncle Nelson...something about not making everyone in the family sing the 'Old Milwaukee Blues.' It was menacing and it came from an untraceable number. James wouldn’t let me or the kids hear it. I’m...I’m so sorry, Grace. I hate this, but we have children. We can’t get involved in—”
“I get it,” I snap, rubbing at the awful pain in my temple. “No, you can’t risk it. You...you did the right thing.”
The words feel so numb, I have to keep repeating it over and over in my head.
But there’s a deeper question nagging me.
How did they know?
Dad hasn’t talked to anyone, and I sure as hell haven’t.
We’ve given that maniac everything. More than everything, but it’ll never be enough.
Not for Clay Grendal. He’s a flipping two-bit gangster, but in his mind, he’s Al Capone and El Chapo spliced together.
“Gracie, I’m scared for you and Uncle Nelson,” Noelle whimpers, her voice so low. “You need to call the police, the FBI, somebody. Get help!” she hisses. “Go to the law before it’s too late.”
My stomach churns, pushing angry bile up my throat. My head is pounding; I still haven’t had anything to eat, and now with this bomb I’ve had dropped on my head?
Appetite, gone.
The police can’t do anything for us. No one can. The time to risk something like that was years ago, not while my father might be down to his last precious days on earth.
Dad doesn’t need even more stress, his hourglass running out under the gun. Literally and figuratively with constant interrogations. Maybe they’d even lock him up.
Years ago, while working at the railroad yards in Milwaukee, my father took on a side gig helping transport goods that weren’t quite legal.
Actually, it was as illegal as it gets. Both the transporting and the goods.
“I just...I thought Uncle Nelson was done with all that mob stuff,” Noelle says quietly. “I thought he got out when he bought your farm years ago? When you moved out of the city?”
My teeth pinch together so hard it hurts.
He had gotten out, or so we thought.
For a little while, life was good, until my mom got sick and the medical bills started coming fast and furious. Dad reached out to his old associates for a loan.
At the time, Grendal said it wasn’t a loan, but a gift, for Dad’s past services. Then the bad luck started, and Dad found out fast what kind of strings came with accepting that gift—vandalism, a fire in the barn, and a string of other events that truly had nothing to do with random chance.
It left us destitute, barely scraping by on miscellaneous pumpkin sales plus Dad’s railroad pension. Clay doled out more money, and this time he expected repayment—with interest.
We gave him everything we had, even offered the farm, but it wasn’t enough. He insisted on his pound of flesh. I think even if we’d won the lottery, it still wouldn’t have been enough.
He knew what he wanted out of this all along, and it has nothing to do with money.
“Grace? Are you still there?” Noelle asks. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories.”
My stomach revolts. The bitter taste of bile burns my throat, coats my tongue, and I swallow hard not to gag.
“Still here,” I tell her. Still hopelessly cursed. “Dad’s out, just like I’ve told you for years. Don’t worry, you aren’t in any danger.” I’m certain of that. Clay Grendal only wants one thing.
I know because I had to face the devil himself, and I’ll never, ever do it again.
“Where are you? Are you safe?” Noelle asks.
“North Dakota now. Don’t know the town, but we’re not that far from the Montana line.” I turn around, pacing the small area between the vanity and the stalls, desperate to get my head screwed back on.
“Oh, Grace. I’m sorry. I truly, truly am.”
“I know you are, Noelle. I understand. Family and little ones first.”
There’s a long pause, then I hear her take a strained breath.
“What’re you going to do?”
Boom. The million-dollar question I don’t think I could pry a dollar from.
I don’t have a clue.
Here we are, almost flat broke, stuck in the middle of flipping nowhere, while Mother Nature has major PMS.
“Don’t worry,” I say again. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll call you in a couple of days to check in.”
“Oh, please do. I hate this again, Grace. If it was just me—”
“I know, Noelle. But James is right. Listen to your husband. You have to think about your family.” Which is exactly what I have to do, too. “I’ll call you soon.”
“Okay. I really am sorry. Do you want us to contact anyone if...if you don’t check in?”
I rub at my eye, amazed at how hard it is to answer such a simple, but loaded question.
But if I’m not in any position to call my cousin two days from now, her running to the police won’t help anything.
It’ll just put her family in the crosshairs they’re trying to avoid.
“No, don’t bother. I know you mean well. Bye, Noelle.” I click off, drop the phone on the counter, and hang my head over the sink.
What the hell am I going to do now?
Pushing myself back up, I pick up my phone, enter a stall and use the facilities, with my heart sinking lower and lower. There’s nowhere else for us. Nowhere.
Exiting the stall, I wash my hands. As I reach for the paper towels, I see a candle sitting on top of the metal towel holder. Not quite up to normal safety standards but it’s what’s lying next to the candle that truly catches my eye.
A match. A spent one with its end charred black.
It makes me think of Mom, and despite the hopelessness inside me, a grin tugs at my lips.
If you’ve got a light, you’ve still got a wish.
She must’ve said that line a thousand times. I don’t know if she stole it from a movie, a song, a book, a story her grandmother told her, or what.
Sometimes it haunts me, but right now, I know my wish like I know this sickly adrenaline hangover coursing through my veins.
I wish this wasn’t my life.
I wish I could wake up in a cold sweat, toss b
ack a glass of water, and get out of bed.
I wish I could start the day living a boring normal Wisconsin life. Not this lethal nightmare.
But it’s not a horrific dream.
It’s as real as can be, and this is a world where wishes rarely come true.
This is a life where I traded my faith in wishing to keep my sanity.
I stare at the blackened match for a few more seconds and shrug. We’re not totally beaten yet.
My credit cards aren’t quite maxed out, and I have enough to put us up in some cheap motel for a little while. So onward we go.
Walking out of the bathroom, I also wish I’d drank my coffee before calling Noelle. It’s sure to be cold now.
Lukewarm coffee has nothing on my insides when I reach the end of the hall and spot the man who’s just walked through the door.
He’s tall. Bald. A human brick in neutral colors. A mosaic of shapes runs up one side of his face, more like a sinister mask than a tattoo.
I’ve never seen him before, but my instincts tell me he’s more bad news—what else?—even before his eyes lock on Dad and he’s heading for our table.
It. Can’t. Be.
I shoot around the end of the bar, and in my hurry to get to my father, I bump into the tall glum man dressed in business attire who’s on his feet and making his way toward the bathrooms.
“Sorry!” I say and continue rushing toward the table.
Baldy has already arrived, though, and I can hear him snarling behind a nasty smirk.
“Never thought I’d find your ass in this storm. You finally ready to talk sense, old man, or what?”
Want to read more? Get The Romeo Arrangement HERE.
About Nicole Snow
Nicole Snow is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She found her love of writing by hashing out love scenes on lunch breaks and plotting her great escape from boardrooms. Her work roared onto the indie romance scene in 2014 with her Grizzlies MC series.
Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty.
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More Books by Nicole
Knights of Dallas Books
The Romeo Arrangement
The Best Friend Zone
Accidental Knight (Companion book)*
Heroes of Heart’s Edge Books
No Perfect Hero
No Good Doctor
No Broken Beast
No Damaged Goods
No Fair Lady
No White Knight
Marriage Mistake Standalone Books
Accidental Hero
Accidental Romeo
Accidental Protector
Accidental Knight
Accidental Rebel
Accidental Shield
Standalone Novels
Cinderella Undone
Man Enough
Surprise Daddy
Prince With Benefits
Marry Me Again
Love Scars
Recklessly His
Stepbrother UnSEALed
Stepbrother Charming
Enguard Protectors Books
Still Not Over You
Still Not Into You
Still Not Yours
Still Not Love
Baby Fever Books
Baby Fever Bride
Baby Fever Promise
Baby Fever Secrets
Only Pretend Books
Fiance on Paper
One Night Bride
Grizzlies MC Books
Outlaw’s Kiss
Outlaw’s Obsession
Outlaw’s Bride
Outlaw’s Vow
Deadly Pistols MC Books
Never Love an Outlaw
Never Kiss an Outlaw
Never Have an Outlaw’s Baby
Never Wed an Outlaw
Prairie Devils MC Books
Outlaw Kind of Love
Nomad Kind of Love
Savage Kind of Love
Wicked Kind of Love
Bitter Kind of Love
