“This time, I’m not following her home from Cow Camp. In fact, I vote we stay here for a few days and let her sulk. It might do her some good.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Trixie was about to pee her pants. She’d taken several exit ramps toward gas stations advertised on interstate billboards only to discover the mom-and-pop service stations were closed.
Finally, she opted for a rest stop. She could almost hear Daddy Kane scolding her now. He’d always told his girls to avoid rest stops after dark.
She stared through the windshield. It was a lighted area. There were a few eighteen-wheelers parked near the exit but otherwise the place looked deserted.
Grabbing her purse, she darted up the sidewalk and hurried into the little girl’s room. At least the facilities were clean. She chose her stall and took care of business, quickly reassembling her pants when she heard the door open and close.
Her gut immediately clenched when she didn’t hear footsteps. Pushing her hand into her purse, she reached for her cell phone. When her fingertips didn’t connect with the device, she peered in her bag and frantically searched for her phone.
Damn. It only took her another minute to realize she’d left her phone on the front seat of the SUV.
She suddenly felt a suffocating sensation, as if someone had knocked the wind out of her lungs. She cocked her head and listened, certain she could hear someone breathing on the other side of the door.
Squatting, she peered underneath the stall and checked for a pair of shoes. Breathing a sigh of relief when she saw nothing, she cursed herself for being so paranoid.
Clutching her bag to her side, she exited the small space and went to the sink and hurriedly washed her hands. She reached for a paper towel and could’ve sworn she saw movement at the exit. No, she assured herself, her overzealous imagination was simply having a good laugh at her expense.
Grabbing her keychain, she stuck the jagged end of one key between her fingertips. Now then, she was armed and ready. She was dangerous and mean. No one would fuck with her, not even in an abandoned rest stop area.
She rounded the tile wall and her nerve vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She stumbled backward. “It’s you.”
“Hello, baby mama.” He sneered. “I followed you all the way from Cow Camp and for a minute there, I was afraid I might have to tail you all the way home.”
Her breath hitched in her throat.
“Now, now,” Cash said diabolically, reaching for her. “I won’t hurt you. I want us to spend some time together before we fuck. Does that sound nice to you, baby?”
“Yes,” Trixie replied, not at all green in situations such as these. God only knew how many lunatics she’d had to deal with in her lifetime.
“All right, doll,” Cash said, stepping in front of the bathroom entrance. “Shall we talk in my car or yours?”
“Either is fine,” Trixie said in a shaken voice while trying to keep her wits about her. “But can I grab my jacket out of my car if we sit in yours?”
“We can talk in yours, baby mama.”
“Why do you call me that?” she asked, wishing she hadn’t been so curious when she caught a flash of complete fury in his expression.
Cash grabbed her by the throat and threw her against the wall. Her feet dangled above the floor and she gasped for another breath. Oh God, what had she done? What kind of position had she put herself in this time?
“I call you my baby mama because that is what you will be. You will have my child. You will have many children with me. Then, when I am through with you, I will leave you on the side of the road so your family will find your broken and battered body and then, only then, will your men be able to reunite with you.” He blinked several times. “But they won’t want you after I’m done with you. I will mark you as mine with scars that will only remind them of how they failed as men when they allowed me to catch up with you.”
* * * *
Brock’s phone rang. He stared at the ceiling and cursed under his breath. He started to let the little vixen suffer but he couldn’t help himself, he needed to make sure she’d made it home. Tantrum or no tantrum, Trixie was his heart.
Sitting upright, he glanced at the ID. Ansley’s number and name were clearly displayed right above the time—four o’clock.
“What is it?” Brock asked, forgoing the polite way to answer his sister-in-law’s call.
“I’ve tried to call Trixie. I’m sorry to wake you guys up but I need to talk to her.”
“Trixie isn’t here,” Brock said. “She’s at our place. What’s wrong?”
“I locked myself out of the house. I’m drunk and can’t go to Mom and Dads’ because Caz and Winter are there and I wanted to see—wait a second. Why isn’t Trixie there?”