Second Chance SEAL(66)

“Oh, you know,” I said, shrugging. “Drugs, violence, and crime. The usual sort of shit that tears apart any family.”

I began to walk toward my room, but I could sense her hesitation. She lingered near the car, frowning at me.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Just one night,” she said. “One night only. Okay? And then we part ways forever.”

“Whatever you want, princess,” I said, laughing. “One night is all I’ll need anyway.”

She shook her head. “None of that. This is strictly business between us.”

“I’m always all business. Come on.”

I headed toward my room and she followed. We passed the methed-out hooker and I gave the poor woman a smile. She was too busy smoking her cigarette to notice, though. Hartley, to her credit, just ignored the woman. I was guessing Hartley had never seen the darkest parts of the human world, but if she had spent any serious time in Knoxville, she’d definitely seen a few things.

I could show her more. I could show her a lot of fucked up things in this world. There was something about the girl, something that drew me toward her. It was the lips and the body and the full blond hair, sure, but it was also something else about her. Sometimes you found a person who had a pull, a magnetic draw about them, and no matter what you thought or did, you found yourself gravitating toward them. This girl had that effect on me, and I couldn’t understand why. It’d been a very long time since a girl had made me feel that way. Not since the last time I was in Knoxville, all those years ago.

I walked up the steps toward the second floor and unlocked the last room, pushing the door open. Hartley followed me in and I smiled at her, gesturing. “This is your palace, my lady.”

She sighed. “It’s beautiful.”

I laughed and shut the door behind her. The room was pretty dingy as far as motels went. The bedspread was a vague, greenish puke color, and the furniture hadn’t been updated since the ’70s. The room smelled like smoke and the ceilings were a stained yellow color, though they were probably white at some point.

“Not much,” I said, “but it’s a bed and there aren’t any folks trying to kill us.”

She sat down at the small table pressed up against the front window. I drew the curtains shut.

“It’s gross, but then again it’s about average for this town.”

“There you go again, talking shit on Knoxville.”

“I can’t help it,” she said. “I was almost raped back there.”

“Fair play. Stay here.” I opened the door again.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Getting ice for that face. Go take a look in the mirror.”

She frowned, but I was already leaving, shutting the door behind me. I walked back down the walkway and down the steps toward the snack area. I grabbed an ice bucket from the corner and filled it up from the machine.

This girl was so far out of her depths, it was crazy. I couldn’t even begin to understand what she was doing in Knoxville and why she was fucking with the Dixie Mafia. She hadn’t been very talkative in the car, and I didn’t think it was time to push her too hard, considering the almost-rape and all. The girl needed a second to gather herself, which was why I’d decided to leave her alone.

I took my time filling up the bucket and slowly walking back. The hooker gave me a smile as I passed her, but she didn’t ask if I wanted anything. Probably off the clock, or maybe I didn’t look like the hooker type. She was right, but still, a man liked to be asked at least.

I paused outside the door. Hartley had been surprisingly together for a girl who was just nearly raped, but there had to be something beneath that hard exterior. I pressed my ear against the door and waited a second.

Sure enough, there it was, the soft sound of someone crying. I frowned and had the urge to get in there and comfort her, but I was just another strange man. Right now, she needed a second to herself to process what had almost happened to her.

And so I leaned up against the wall outside the door and crossed my arms.

It’d been a long time since I’d had anything to do with the Dixie Mafia, but I wasn’t a stranger to those fucking bastards. I remembered clear as day the last job I did for them, the job that pushed me away from a life of petty crime and helped make me want to enlist in the military.

I was just an idiot kid back then, didn’t know shit about the world, didn’t understand a damn fucking thing. I thought the only things in the world worth owning were large trucks and lots of land. My family had the land, or at least some of it, though they mostly just grew weed and raised chickens.