by Dahlia West
“Bet she could,” Hook mused.
“And one in her ass,” Bones replied. “That ass is mine.”
It was all Ava could take. She shook her head vehemently, backing away from all of them. “You’re sick!” she shouted. “And you can’t—”
Hook suddenly sprang forward, grabbed her arm and squeezed it hard. Tears sprang to Ava’s eyes but she knew better than to fight his hold. His face came dangerously close to hers and she wanted to vomit. His breath smelled sour, like whiskey. The brown outline of his gums made her stomach turn.
“Be back here when it gets dark,” he demanded.
Ava’s eyes darted to her bike, which was in pieces at that point. She looked back at Hook and swallowed hard. She didn’t want to question him, she probably shouldn’t question him, but there seemed to be no choice. “But...” she whispered, pulse pounding in her throat.
He grinned. “One of us can give you a ride.”
Ava shook her head quickly. “No. No. I— I’ll get here.”
Ignoring her, Hook shoved her backward.
She collided with someone behind her and stiffened.
“Get her out of here,” Hook ordered. “Take her home. Get back here by dark.”
Dread flooded her as she turned. She didn’t want to know who he’d passed her off to, but at the same time she had to find out. She was only somewhat relieved to see a pair of familiar, steel-gray eyes glaring down at her.
Haze.
At least it wasn’t the Candy-man. Or one of the pigs who’d threatened to rape Zoey.
Haze looked cold and distant, though, as his fingers wrapped around her arm again. He yanked her toward the door and she could do nothing but stumble after him.
“Sundown, Ava Stark,” Hook called after them.
Ava looked at Haze, lips trembling. “What happens at sundown?” she asked him quietly.
Haze didn’t bother to answer her. But Hook had heard from across the room. “You’re off probation,” he told her. “Now the real job starts.”
She barely had time to process his words as Haze pulled her out the door. “Wh-what?” She dragged her gaze from the front of the building to Haze. “What’s he talking about? Probation? What? What’s the real job? I don’t want this job!”
“I’m taking you home.”
Ava struggled to free herself from his hold. “What’s the job?” she demanded.
The older man sighed and slowed to a stop. He waited for a long moment, clearly debating what he should say. Finally he told her, “You’re first. You’re the fastest. Hook’s anxious to set a deal in motion as quickly as possible. The run is across the Canadian border.”
Ava gaped at him.
“Once you make it there and back, Clint will make the same run. Then the Wonder Twins.” His mouth twisted thoughtfully. “Can you get your birth certificate?”
She couldn’t respond. Didn’t even know where to start. Canada? Canada?
“We have a guy,” Haze told her. “He’s working on documents for you and the others; should be done by tonight. But I think his work’s shit. And he’s ripping us off. It’s better if you have the real thing. None of you have a criminal record. Should be easy getting there and back with your real identities.”
“But what do I even do? What is this?” she asked. Even she knew the cost of a trip to Canada was more than the bud was worth. What was the point? And why were they destroying her bike? How would she get there?
“Just drive,” he replied. “The MC in Canada will take care of everything else. Come on.” He stepped toward a large Harley parked in the lot, dragging her with him.
Ava balked. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be away from him, away from this place. She’d never wanted anything to do with this shit. She didn’t deserve this.
“No!”
She planted her boot on the crushed gravel, pivoted, and pulled her arm back.
Haze didn’t let go, though. Instead, he jerked—hard—and Ava stumbled into him. His solid frame didn’t budge a fraction of an inch. He did let go, but only for a second. Quickly, he had her by the upper arms. He looked angry, but his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
“Do not do this,” he growled. “Not here. Not now.”
“I never wanted this!” she shot back, twisting, trying to get out of his grip. “I want out!”
Haze lifted her off her feet and pulled her in close. He didn’t smell like whiskey, only leather. Ava blinked up at him in the harsh sunlight.
“There is no out! Not like this!” He glanced toward the door nervously and then back to her. “You don’t cut this temper-tantrum bullshit right now, you’re gonna end up in pieces in the fucking Badlands. You hear me? Real buzzards might end up picking your pretty bones clean.” He set her down, gray eyes flashing fiercely. “You won’t be the first person I’ve left there.”
He wasn’t boasting. He seemed disgusted. With himself. With her. Ava wasn’t sure. He turned away, preferring to look at the sky as the sun disappeared behind the only cloud. His jaw twitched as he ground his teeth.
“Help me,” Ava whispered.
Haze didn’t turn back. “I can’t. I can’t help anyone these days.”
In the silence, Ava realized she was free. She backed up, out of his reach, then turned to run.
Haze didn’t chase her.
“Sundown,” he called out wearily. “Make the right choice, Ava.”
Ava sprinted down the road, as fast as her boots would carry her. Away from all the shitty choices she’d made that had led her here in the first place.
Chapter Thirty
Ava made it as far as her own two feet could carry her and then shuffled into a burger joint on the corner of an adjacent street. After washing her face in the bathroom, she pulled out her phone and dialed Sienna’s number.
“I need a ride,” she declared solemnly.
Sienna gasped. “Oh, my God. Are you hurt? Did you crash? Are you in the hospital? Is anyone dead?”
“No one’s dead,” Ava reassured her.
Yet.
“And no, I didn’t crash. I just... look, I need a ride, okay? Can you come?”
“Um, yeah. Yeah, sure.”
Ava gave her location to Sienna. “Where is that, exactly?” she asked.
“On the other side of town.”
“What’s on the other side of town?”
Ava looked around her. Aside from the burger place, there were a few empty lots and a used car place across the street. “Not much,” she told Sienna honestly. “Not much.”
She disconnected the call, ordered a soda for herself, and waited. Twenty minutes later, Sienna pulled up in her mom’s car. Ava ditched her drink in the trash bin and ducked into the passenger seat. Before she’d even gotten her seatbelt on, Sienna was peppering her with questions.
“So,” Sienna asked with a grin, “did they finally bust you for speeding? Haul your bike off to the impound? How much is this going to cost you?”
How much indeed?
“It doesn’t matter,” Ava said, leaning her head against the window, watching the landscape pass.
Sienna seemed worried, glancing at her nearly as much as the road ahead of them. “Seriously, A. What happened?” she asked finally.
Ava didn’t respond and Sienna took her silence to mean the worst. “Oh, crap! Adam’s going to lose his shit, isn’t he? Is your dad going to take your bike away? What are you going to—?”
“Shut up!” Ava shouted, a little too loudly since the windows were up.
Sienna stared at her.
“Jesus,” Ava continued.
In for a penny, as Pop always said.
Ava fisted her hands to stave off the impending tears. “Do you ever shut up?” she asked Sienna. “Oh, wait. No, you don’t. Except normally it’s all ‘Jonah this’ or ‘Jonah that. Jonah, Jonah, Jonah. Does he like me? Why doesn’t he like me? What can I do to make him like me?’ Let’s go back to that,” Ava suggested. “At least I don’t have to ta
lk, then. I can just sit here and relax and listen to you babble on about how my brother is never, ever going to love you and how much it hurts your feels.”
It was a shitty thing to say, especially since it wasn’t really true. Sienna had waxed poetic about what it would be like to be with Jonah, way back in the eighth grade. When it had become clear that he didn’t return her interest, Sienna’s obsession seemed to fade. In four years, there’d been fewer and fewer mentions of his name.
It was obvious Sienna was still obsessed with him. But she’d learned to hide it better, at least.
“That’s... that’s bullshit!” she insisted to Ava.
The car started to slow and Ava watched Sienna swipe angrily at her cheeks. “That’s such bullshit,” she repeated. “I’m not even like that. I don’t do that! And you know what, fuck you! I... at least I’m there for you. I was there for you. When your mom died.”
Ava lifted her head and turned to look at her. This felt like clubbing a baby seal. It was so wrong, such an abuse of power to take everything you knew about someone and stab them with it. Repeatedly.
“You mean your pseudo-mom?” Ava sneered.
“I... what?!” Sienna’s mouth flapped. Open, closed, open, closed.
Ava forced herself to shrug. “The only reason you hang out with me is for my family,” she told Sienna. “My mom is— was—better than yours. And, well, you don’t have a dad...”
Sienna slammed on the brakes without checking the mirror. Behind them, tires squealed, metal groaned.
Ava braced for impact, but all that came was a plaintive horn. She was secretly glad Sienna hadn’t cracked up her car during all this. That was the last thing the poor girl needed.
Sienna seethed in the driver’s seat, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around her. She lifted her hand and Ava braced herself to be slapped, or maybe even punched. God knew she deserved it.
But Sienna merely jabbed a finger at her. Not even at her, past her. “Get out!” she ordered.
Ava complied silently. The obligatory crack about Sienna’s driving died on her lips. She couldn’t even joke with her friend now. She probably never would again.
She stood on the sidewalk and watched Sienna pull away. Ava was pretty sure she’d never felt like such a scumbag in her entire life. And she still had one more relationship to torpedo.
Reluctantly, she slid out her phone and punched a number slowly. As she listened to the ring, she watched the breeze rustle the leaves of the trees that lined her street. It was a nice street. Always had been.
Emilio answered on the third ring. “Hey, baby. I’ve been texting you all day.”
Ava bit her lip and took a deep breath in through her nose. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.
She hoped neither of them hemorrhaged.
“Yeah, well, I was busy,” she replied coldly.
He hesitated on the other end. She could almost sense his confusion. “Well, okay. Are you done? You could—”
“No, I’m not done,” she snapped. “But you and I are.”
“What? Why?”
Ava actually shrugged, though there was no one around to see it. The gesture seemed to boost her resolve. “I’m bored,” she trilled into the phone. “And I didn’t text you back because I didn’t want to text you back. Like I said, I was busy.”
“With Clint?” Emilio asked quietly.
Ava didn’t answer. Letting him think it was easier than her saying it out loud.
“And you couldn’t do me the courtesy of at least telling me?” he demanded.
“I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Ava?! Are you really saying this right now? That you’ve been cheating on me with Clint—that asshole, of all people—and you didn’t think I’d care? What the fuck, Ava? I mean, what the fuck? Why would you do this?”
“I felt like it.”
Emilio let loose a long string of obscenities, or Ava assumed they were, since they were in Spanish. She didn’t know exactly what he was saying, but she could guess.
“I told you before, I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about me.” She knew it for a lie, even if he didn’t. She may not have cared what other people thought about her, but she cared what this man thought. And she cared what would happen to him.
A fierce burn spread across her chest as she pictured Emilio with a knife to his throat, Emilio dead as retribution if she didn’t do as she was told.
Ava couldn’t let that happen.
If Emilio thought she was a skanky bitch, then so be it, if it kept him away. She couldn’t see a way out of it now, she was too far down the rabbit hole. She may have been in too deep, way over her head, but she didn’t have to drag anyone she loved down with her.
“Fair enough, Ava,” he finally replied. Even over the phone, she could tell he was working hard to restrain himself. “But what do you think about you?”
She closed her eyes, refusing to answer.
“See? That’s the real problem. Isn’t it? Tell me what’s really going on, Ava. Right now. ‘Cause you’re not a cheater. You’re too good for that. And you’re too good for Clint, if that’s where you’ve been. What the fuck is going on, muñeca?”
Ava looked at the trees again and wished they would move.
Emilio sighed. “I’m tired of this, Ava. I’ve put up with it long enough. You need to tell me what’s going on. My girl doesn’t keep secrets from me.”
Ava’s chest hitched and she swallowed a sob that rose from her throat and threatened to break free. Her thumb hovered over the disconnect button. “Then I guess I’m not your girl.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ava opened the door slowly, carefully, and peeked inside. No one was in the living room. She crept into the house and made her way to her bedroom. As she passed the bathroom, she heard the shower running. Adam must have been in there. She opened her bedroom door slowly to stave off the squeak of the hinges.
Once she was inside, everything looked different to her. Smaller. Insignificant. Light from the window shone on the poster of the Grand Canyon on the far wall. She crossed the room, grabbed the top, and tore it down. It ripped loudly, but she’d closed the bedroom door behind her. No one even knew she was home.
She grabbed her old high school backpack out of her closet and threw it on the bed. She stuffed an armload of socks, underwear, and a few shirts into it, whatever she could carry. She lifted the corner of her mattress and felt for the slit she’d cut in the fabric. Carefully, she pulled out a manila envelope.
All her race winnings were inside. Just under four thousand dollars. Ava didn’t know how long she could make it last.
As she closed it up, her eyes flitted to the nightstand. Her mother’s smiling face looked back at her from the photo frame. Ava’s fingers trembled on the plastic zipper. Finally, she let go, took two steps toward the table and picked up the unopened envelope.
She couldn’t leave it behind, but she definitely couldn’t read it now.
She took a book off the lower shelf and pressed the letter between its pages. Assured that it was safe, she slid the book into her bag.
She took one last look at the room. She was too old now for it anyway, she told herself. She’d outgrown it. And now she’d outrun it. She flipped off the light and eased the door open a crack. After checking to make sure no one was around, she tiptoed back out into the hall.
She headed back down the hallway and through the kitchen to the dining room on the other side. She made a beeline to the desk in the corner, the one where Mom— now Adam, she supposed— kept the bills and the checkbook and all the important documents. She slid open the roll top and opened one of the drawers. There was a stack of papers, filed neatly. Mom had always been organized.
Ava tugged out the documents and thumbed through them. Deed to the house. She flung it aside. There were other documents that she didn’t immediately recognize. Bank numbers, some said Insurance in officially stamped letters across the top.
; The birth certificates were at the bottom. Along with a copy of Mom’s death certificate. Ava pushed it aside angrily.
She found her own, after Dalton but before Ashley.
Ashley had her own set of ‘birth’ and death certificates. The birth certificate looked different from her own. Fake somehow. And it probably was. It was probably just a document that the hospital had given Mom and Pop to mark the occasion of losing their baby.
In some ways, Ava thought for the first time, Ashley had it harder. Ashley had never even gotten an official paper, stamped by the state of South Dakota, to even say she ever lived on this Earth.
Ava grabbed her own certificate, and shoved the rest back into the drawer.
“Miriam?”
Ava dropped the paper on the desk and whirled. She was startled to see Pop’s figure in the doorway.
“No, it’s me, Pop.”
He looked tired and thin. Dark circles appeared under his eyes.
Ava’s own eyelids felt heavy from crying.
“Miriam, what are you doing?”
Ava sighed quietly. He was having an episode. Sundowning, they called it. Which seemed all too appropriate tonight. It seemed Ava was plagued by the long shadows creeping across the floor.
Pop was confused; the Buzzards were waiting. Everything was slipping through her fingers.
He looked at her bag and frowned. “What’s that for?”
Ava’s fingers tightened on the strap until her knuckles turned white. “I—I’m going away for a while.”
“To the store?”
“Yeah,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m going to the store.”
He nodded. “Can you get some chips? And beer?”
Ava forced a smile. She wanted it to be the last thing he’d see of her, even though in a few years from now, or maybe even a few months, he wouldn’t remember her at all. “Sure thing.”
Pop smiled back. “Thanks, Miriam.”
He turned and shuffled back into the kitchen. Ava watched him turn to the hallway leading toward the bedrooms and then she turned back to the desk. She picked up the birth certificate and folded it carefully.
