by Joanna Wylde
“I might be in shock,” I admitted, swaying.
“Fuck,” he muttered, ducking into the camper to catch me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, savoring the smell of his body. This was real—Puck was actually standing here, holding me. Everything would be all right.
“How did you find me?”
“Your mom called me from your cell,” he murmured. “Gave me directions. She said you’d need my help cleaning up.”
“She killed Teeny,” I managed to say, my mind spinning. And she called Puck to save me. “He decided to shoot me after he learned you’re my old man—figured you’d hunt him down if I told you what he’d done.”
“So you were just going to disappear? He think I wasn’t gonna notice?”
I gave a dark laugh. “Thinking’s never really been his thing.”
“Let’s get her out of here,” the big Reaper said. “You can talk shit through later. We’ll have to torch the place—that should take care of any evidence leading in our direction.”
“Won’t someone see the fire?” I asked, frowning in confusion. He glanced at me and shrugged.
“Maybe,” he admitted. “That’s why we need to leave. With any luck, one more burned-out camper out here won’t even hit the radar. Just another drug deal gone bad. We’ll take care of it, then you two start driving for Idaho right away. I’ll head another direction.”
“Go get in the truck,” Puck told me, and for once I decided following his orders wasn’t such a bad idea. Apparently he had more experience with this kind of thing.
—
Two hours later we were heading north. The camper went up fast, then, as we drove away, it exploded. Guess that’s what happens when you torch a meth lab.
Back in Santa Valeria, I’d stayed hidden in the back of the truck while Puck grabbed our shit out of the motel room. I had no idea whether anyone had seen my abduction outside the Denny’s, and I didn’t want to find out.
“So let’s unravel this,” Puck said once we’d made left the city limits. “How the hell did you end up in that camper?”
I looked down at my wrists, running a finger over the bruises forming from the tape. Mom had actually been fairly gentle, but I’d savaged myself trying to get free.
“Mom ambushed me at Denny’s. Pulled a gun on me. I told her to fuck off, but she said Teeny was ready to shoot you if I didn’t follow her orders. We walked out to the car and they kidnapped me, dragged me into the desert. They seemed to think I’d brought money to pay Teeny off.”
Puck’s jaw tightened, and he started to open his mouth.
“No,” I told him, catching his arm. “I know you’re pissed. I’m pissed too, but this time let’s not take it out on each other. The situation sucked but at least we’re both alive. That’s more than Teeny can say. I just want to get the hell out of here and go home.”
Puck frowned.
“You should at least thank me for saving your ass,” he said finally, frustrated.
“Thank you for saving my ass,” I said, feeling proud of the fact that we hadn’t started fighting. “But I’d already saved myself, you know.”
“Aside from being stranded in the desert with two bodies? Yeah, I guess you’re right. You were practically home free by the time we got there.”
“Bax’s bike was there—I could’ve taken it.”
“You know how to ride a bike?” he asked, obviously startled.
I rolled my eyes. “I grew up on a bike. Of course I know how to ride.”
“Didn’t realize that,” he replied, glancing at me with new respect. “But what were you planning to do, ride into town covered in blood? And what about the forensic evidence? You can’t just leave a trail of bodies behind you, Becs. Throw me a bone, here.”
“Okay, you saved me,” I admitted. “But I saved myself, too. And I saved you. Bax was ready for you—he would’ve shot you right through the door.”
“That’s probably true,” Puck said. “Appreciate that, by the way.”
We drove in silence for a few minutes.
“I can’t believe she got me again,” I finally said. “And just in case it isn’t clear, I’m done with her. You were right all along. I should’ve stopped taking her calls a long time ago. They must’ve thought I was a complete idiot, falling for their bullshit over and over again.”
To his credit, Puck didn’t rub it in. He just reached over and caught my knee, giving it a squeeze.
“Were you surprised when she attacked Teeny?”
I shrugged, covering his hand with mine.
“I don’t know what to think—I still don’t know why she lied to me, or why she decided to stop him. I guess killing me crossed some sort of line in her head? I’ll probably never know.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. I leaned over to turn on some music. Talking made me think too much.
—
“Becca, you should come to bed.”
I stood next to the window, looking out across the darkened parking lot. If anything, the quality of our hotels had gone down a notch. Puck said the shittier the hotel, the less likely it was anyone would remember us. By that logic, we were now perfectly safe. I’d already seen two drug deals go down outside, and I’d be willing to bet that those two girls with lots of makeup and very high heels weren’t just having a party in their room.
“I keep thinking about Teeny,” I admitted. “Mom just kept hitting him, over and over. Blood sprayed everywhere. Like in a horror movie. Not only that, I killed a man today. It seems like I should feel something—guilt, or maybe excitement or triumph or something. I’m just tired, though.”
“Come to bed,” he repeated, pulling back the covers next to him. I walked over and climbed in, tucking myself into his side.
“Are you pissed at me?”
“For what?” he asked. “You’re gonna have to narrow it down before I can answer that.”
“For all of it. Answering her calls. Listening to Teeny . . . dragging us down here in the first place.” Puck’s fingers caught my hair, running through it lightly. Then he sighed.
“Maybe a little,” he admitted. “But mostly I’m just happy you’re alive. When your mom called, it’s like everything around me just stopped. All I could think about was you lying dead somewhere out in the desert. It could’ve happened, too.”
“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” I said. “But I can’t seem to feel bad about Teeny or his brother. And I know this is fucked as hell, but I’m glad my mom saved me. Maybe in her own way she still loves me, even if she’s a nut job. Probably sounds crazy to you, but that makes me feel a lot better. Not that I ever want to see or talk to her again—no worries there.”
He kissed the top of my head, tucking me farther into his side.
“So what now?” I asked him.
“We should sleep,” he declared. “If we get up early and keep driving then we’ll hit Idaho tomorrow night.”
“No, I mean what about us?”
“What about us?” he asked, his tone touched with humor. “I just drove across the country to commit murder for you. Earlier today I helped burn a couple bodies to cover your tracks. That implies a certain level of commitment on my part, don’t you think?”
“Well, I guess when you put it that way . . .”
Puck kissed me. Hard. “Go to sleep. Long drive tomorrow.”
I snuggled down, feeling myself start to relax. Then I remembered something important.
“Puck!” I said, pushing myself up. He lunged for his gun, ready for action. I froze.
“What is it?” he whispered urgently. “Did you hear something?”
I shook my head, staring at the weapon. “You think you could put that down?”
He nodded, then lowered it slowly.
“What is it?” he asked again. I laughed nervously, feeling stupid.
“Um, well earlier today I thought I was going to die.”
“Been trying not to think of that.”
“So . . .” I said, then
I shook my head. This wasn’t the right time. “Let’s just go back to sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Becs, whatever the fuck’s got you worked up, spit it out.”
“I love you. When Teeny was about to shoot me? It’s all I could think about. I love you and I wish I’d spent less time fighting with you. We have a lot to work out between us and that kind of scares me, but whatever happens you should know how I feel. You don’t have to say it back.”
God, this was awkward. Puck turned and set down his gun. Then he reached out and caught the back of my neck, pulling me in to rest his forehead against mine.
“I love you too,” he said. “Don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the line it did. They say love at first sight is bullshit, and they’re probably right. But whatever I felt for you that first night? It turned into something real. I’m never letting you go.”
“So what does that mean?” I asked. “I mean, I still feel the same way about controlling my own life.”
Puck sighed, then gave a low chuckle.
“We’ll have to figure it out later, because I’m really fuckin’ tired,” he admitted, falling back onto the bed. I snuggled into his side again, resting my hand on his chest as I closed my eyes.
EIGHTEEN
TWO MONTHS LATER
PUCK
I stepped out onto the roof, shutting my apartment window behind me. The air was chilly, and while it wasn’t freezing just yet, I still smelled fall in the air. It’d be time to put the snow tires on the truck soon. I’d have to park my bike for the winter, too. I still had the snowmobile of course, and it was a hell of a lot of fun. Just not as good as riding my bike.
“Did you remember the bread?” Becca called through her own open window. I held the French loaf up for her and she smiled. Ouch. Like getting punched in the gut every time. If anything, the gut punches were getting worse. Crazy about that girl.
“Thanks,” she said as I got close. I leaned over and kissed her, wondering whose bed we’d end up in tonight. I usually crashed at her place, but sometimes she liked to mix it up. She caught my hand as I stepped inside, tugging me toward the table.
“Come sit down,” she said. “Have a drink.”
“Wow, you went all out.”
She had. The table was covered in a deep maroon cloth that I recognized—she’d hemmed it with the brand new Singer sewing machine Regina had delivered last week. It wasn’t an antique, but it seemed to work all right. She’d bawled like a baby when she saw it.
That wasn’t the only crying she’d done. Becs had been terrified her foster parents would never forgive her for what she’d done, avoiding Earl and his wife for two days after we got home. Finally I’d had enough, so I put her on my bike and drove out to their place without any warning. There’d been an awkward silence, followed by hugs and tears and more dessert than should be legal.
Danielle had been less forgiving—she’d yelled at Becca for close to an hour before she decided not to hold a grudge. Blake stood behind her, arms crossed as he glared at me the entire time. I think he was somehow convinced it was all my fault. Maybe he’d just wanted in on the action. Either way, I was just thankful I didn’t have to fight him. Afterward, the girls erupted into tears and hugs, at which point Blake and I decided to join forces and get the hell out of there.
“So I’ve got your favorite beer here,” Becca announced, opening the fridge. “And I made you a pie. The spaghetti will be ready in just a minute.”
I took the beer and grabbed a chair, enjoying the sight of her cute little ass wiggling as she bustled around. Becca glanced at me, her face full of uncertainty. Then she blinked and I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“You have a good day at school?”
“Yes, it was fine,” she replied. “Um, speaking of school . . . I may be changing up my schedule a little. I’ve decided I really can’t wait four more months before graduation. They said I can start going full-time, accelerate things.”
I frowned. “You’re already crazy busy, between school and the Moose. How d’you figure you’ll pull that off?”
Becca frowned at me, but before she could respond the timer went off.
“Pasta’s ready.”
Five minutes later she handed me a plate full enough to feed the whole damned club.
“That’s a lot to eat,” I said, glancing at her. Becca smiled uncertainly, setting down her own plate. I waited for her to say something but she didn’t—just sipped her water, looking nervous. What the hell was going on here?
“You want a beer?”
Becca shook her head and sighed. “We should talk.”
“Words every man wants to hear,” I muttered. Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting. She twisted her fingers silently.
“Babe, you can just tell me,” I finally said, feeling something dark unwind deep inside. Had her mom been in touch? I knew Becca had mixed feelings about that bitch, but I didn’t. Sure, she’d stopped Teeny from killing Becca in the end. Of course, the only reason she’d needed to protect her was because she’d set her up in the first place.
I hoped she was dead. That’d be best for everyone.
“So, we’ve never really talked about the future,” Becca said slowly. “Sometimes I wonder . . . Where do you see us going, Puck?”
I frowned at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean do you see us together long term?”
“You’re my old lady,” I replied, taking a long pull of my beer. “What else is there?”
“We’ve got something good started here,” she said, her words careful. “And you know I love you. But I don’t want to trap you.”
“Not trapped, Becca.”
She stared at me, her gaze steady, hands folded on the table.
“I’m pregnant.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m pregnant,” she repeated and I realized her fingers were squeezing each other so tight they’d turned white. Fair enough. Something squeezed pretty damned tight in my chest, too.
“How did that happen?”
Becca stiffened.
“We forgot the condom a couple times, remember?” Her tone was hostile. Shit.
“So you’re really pregnant?”
“Yeah, I’m pregnant,” she replied, eyes narrowing. “If you’re going to run, tell me now. I won’t turn into my mom. I’m going to raise this kid right, and I won’t be counting on some man to save our asses.”
I frowned.
“I’m not some man, I’m the kid’s father. And why the hell do you think I’d run off?”
“Because a family is a lot of work—it’ll change everything.”
The words hung heavy between us and suddenly I realized this was actually happening. I was going to be a father! A thousand thoughts exploded through my head, moving too fast for me to catch them all. We’d need a bigger place—not right away, but I wasn’t going to raise a kid in an apartment overlooking Main Street. He might fall out the window.
Christ. Kids fell all the time. Ran off. Got kidnapped and murdered and . . . Fuck.
Better not be a girl. I couldn’t handle a girl.
“That why you’re finishing up school faster than you planned?” I asked Becca.
She nodded, biting her lip.
“I might not ever make it back if I don’t finish now.”
“Makes sense . . .” Shit. How could she work and finish school? That’s when it hit me—a baby meant Becca would finally have to let me help her. ’Bout fuckin’ time. I’d humored her on the whole “I’m an independent woman who pays her own way” thing so far, but no more. There were three of us now.
Three of us. Wow.
“Okay, so we need to pick an apartment,” I told her, mind racing. “I don’t care which one, but I don’t see any reason to pay more than one rent bill. That’ll save money, so you can quit at the Moose, finish up school . . .”
“Does that mean we’re staying togethe
r?”
The words threw me off. I studied her face, full of nervous tension. Great. After all we’d been through, my girl still thought I’d dump her for getting pregnant.
“Jesus, Becca,” I growled. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”
“I love you,” she said, eyes welling with sudden tears. Shit. More crying . . . Holy fuck, maybe it was the pregnancy hormones. That explained a hell of a lot. Becca was like a faucet since we’d gotten back. “But I’m still getting to know you. We’ve never even talked about kids. Do you even like kids?”
“I’m your old man, Becs. That means we’re in this together. And yeah, I like kids.”
“We still can’t even buy groceries together without fighting,” she whispered. “I mean, I know we’re getting better at it, but I’m only twenty-one years old, Puck. We’ve only been dating for two months. How the hell are we supposed to be parents together?”
I considered the question, then shook my head.
“We just do, babe.”
“But—”
“No,” I said, standing and pulling her away from the table. She came into my arms and I held her tight. Was her stomach bigger already? I reached down between us, cupping it. My kid was in there. I wondered what he looked like. Or was it a she?
Fuck. You better be a boy, you little shit.
“Becca, I promise . . .” I swallowed. “I promise I’ll take care of you and the baby. We’ll get through this.”
“All right.”
I put my face in her hair. Did she smell different? More . . . pregnant somehow? I couldn’t decide.
“Puck?”
“Yeah, Becs?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little scared. I love you.”
I bit back a nervous laugh, because I was a little scared, too. Then I pictured a little baby wearing Becca’s face, imagined her feeding it . . . My woman feeding my kid. Damn. How did that make me feel? Love seemed like such a pathetic word to describe something this intense.
“It’s okay,” I told her, hoping I was right. “I love you, too, Becs. And not just ’cause your tits are gonna get bigger . . . although I’m looking forward to that the most, I think.”
