Warrant (Righteous Outlaws #1)(20)

       
           



       

"I'll keep my eye and ear on the bitch, and I have Stanson working to  dig up what he can. Get to Montana and get back as fast as you can. And  do me a favor. Stay under the radar.

"You take the car," Kade said. "Me and Hudson will ride."

If we were busting Miles out of jail, we needed Hudson to hack their  computer system and clear Miles's history. It was the only way to get in  and out without leaving a trace.

"We'll need a diversion," Kade said as Nick left us to it.

"Good thing we have a thirteen hour fucking drive to think about it," I joked. "Remind me to kick Miles ass when we get there."

Kade laughed. "You'll have to get in line. I have first dibs."

A couple hours later, I was behind the wheel of my 1970 Black Chevelle  with the original white racing stripes. It was my old man's car, and the  first thing he bought when he got home from Vietnam. After Mom left, he  never dated. He had his fuck buddies, but he said the only girl he  needed in his life was his car. He treated the car better than he  treated most people and, when he died, I made a promise to myself that I  would take care of it.

Taking care of it also meant driving it. One thing my old man hated  about classic cars was that people only took them out on sunny days and  for short periods of time before parking them back in their garage. A  car was a machine built to be driven, and my old man drove this car  everyday up until he died.

When I turned onto the highway, the sun pouring through the windows, and  the open road ahead of us, I felt as if the old man with me. I cracked  the window, put my sunglasses on and lit my cigarette. I had thirteen  hours ahead of me, and I only hoped that by the time we reached Montana  I'd have shit figured out.





Aubree





Blood poured from the wound in his head, and I stood there with the gun  in my hands. But it was the wrong head. I shot the wrong guy. Cash was  lifeless on the floor. No! I tried to scream out, but the words were  strangled in my throat. I struggled to force them out, but there was  only silence.

I dropped to my knees, taking his head into my arms. Crimson dyed his  dirty blond strands, and matted around the wound. I pressed my hands to  his head to try and stop the bleeding, but there was so much. Too much.  It poured through my fingers, and tears spilled from my eyes. No. This  couldn't be happening.

"Cash!" I screamed, sobs wracking my body as I rocked his head back and forth.

The guy who should have been dead crawled out from under the bed, his  eyes black as night. Murder was in his gaze, and he focused on me. He  got to his feet and lunged. I went to run, but my legs were stuck as if  they were cemented to the floor. His strong hand wrapped around my  throat and he squeezed, cutting off my air supply. I clawed at his hand,  but neither his grip nor the murderous look in his eyes waned.

"Get ready to know what death feels like, you little bitch," he growled.

My arms flailed, hands scratched at his, trying frantically to survive. I  was too young to die. My nails dug deep into his skin, determined to  break free, but it only made his grip tighten.

The light around me dimmed, and the blackness began to consume me.

No. No. No! I tossed and turned, and, suddenly, his hand loosened. My body flung forward, and I gasped for air.

My eyes opened, and I felt the warmth of my down comforter beneath me.  Felt the cool breeze from the central air, streaming through my vent,  and the early morning light shone through my bedroom window. I took in  deep breaths, trying to gain back all that I felt I had lost.

I grabbed my throat, making sure everything was okay. I closed my eyes,  assuring myself I was home and safe. No one could hurt me. Cash was  alive, and I was safe. He said he took care of everything, and all I had  to do was forget it happened.

And I tried. But the nightmares were so vivid, and I couldn't control  them. I returned to my old life, and tried to pretend that dreadful  night never happened, but the memories were engraved in my mind. No  matter how hard I forced them away, they always found their way to the  surface, taunting me and making me wish I could take it all back.

I didn't regret pulling that trigger. If I didn't, that guy would have  killed Cash, and that was something I wouldn't have been able to live  with. But, maybe if we didn't go back to Cash's or if that guy never  showed up, Cash would still be in my life. I wouldn't be a murderer,  harboring a secret so horrible that it could ruin me. I wouldn't need to  figure my life out if I was locked behind bars. I wouldn't even need to  have to worry about my clothes. Though, I hated orange. My stylist told  me it wasn't a good color for me, and the thought of wearing a  jumpsuit …                        
       
           



       

I took a deep breath. I didn't have to worry about that stuff. Cash said  he would protect me, and I believed him. I picked up my cell phone, and  thought about texting him. I just wanted to hear from him, and know  that he was okay.

I tapped in a few words, but quickly deleted them. I was an idiot. Of  course, he was okay. A dead body in his house was probably just a  typical day for him. I tossed my phone in the drawer, and headed for the  shower.

The best thing for me to do was go about my day as I always had, and I'd already slept later than usual.

The hot steam felt good against my skin, and I hoped the water would  wash away those horrible thoughts, but no amount of scrubbing seemed to  help. I thought about shopping at Rainier Square, about taking weekend  trips to Vancouver, and lunches at the club. It was the life I was  accustomed to, and one I wanted out of just a few days ago. Now, I  wasn't sure what I wanted. At least, the life I was used to was safe.

I finished getting dressed and headed downstairs. Dad walked into the  foyer, holding his golf clubs on his right arm. He was dressed in his  usual Saturday morning golf outing attire: khaki pants and a striped  polo. Today's was light blue with white stripes.

"Hey, Daddy," I said, as he placed the bag on the ground. I descended the last step, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, pumpkin." I smiled at the nickname he had been calling me since I  could remember. Dad was the total opposite of Cash: clean cut, and not a  single tattoo or scar. Yet, despite his lack of ruggedness, he had one  thing in common with Cash. They both made me feel safe. Even when Cash  was on the ground fighting for his life, I knew he would never let  anything happen to me, just as I knew Dad wouldn't.

"How'd it go today?" I asked because he loved to talk about his golf swing, and I wanted to get Cash out of my head.

"Really good. I almost missed my tee time because of traffic, but I hit a  par 4, and a near eagle." Dad walked out to the outdoor patio, and I  followed, as he continued to tell me all about his game. We both sat  down at the outdoor bar that was stocked with all of Dad's favorite  bottles of scotch.

"You just keep getting better and better," I said, crossing my legs and resting my elbow on the marble surface.

"You know, I saw William at the club. We played a round together."

"Oh. That's nice," I said, not liking the turn this conversation was taking.

"He said his company is doing really well. He has a lot of financial backers and more are coming in every day."

"I'm happy for him," I said, while playing with the bottom hem of my skirt.

"He also told me you turned down his proposal." A rush of air escaped my  mouth, and I didn't even try to hide my frustrations. The last thing I  felt like discussing was the status of my and William's relationship.

"So … "

A loud bang startled me as Dad's fist came down on the bar. "Goddamn it,  Aubree. What are you doing here? What were you thinking? He can provide  a good life for you." My father's voice rose, and it took me by  surprise. Out of my parents, he was usually the calm one.

I glanced up, and Dad had fire in his eyes. I'd never seen him look so  angry and annoyed. It scared me, and I wondered why something as silly  as me rejecting a man's proposal could create such hostility.

"I want more than just a good life," I explained.

"What more is there?" Dad questioned. "He can give you a home and security. You will never have to worry about anything."

"Love!" I finally yelled. "I want love, Dad. And I don't think I love  William. The house, security …  all of that means nothing to me if I don't  get love with it."

"You learn to love the person you're with," Dad stated dryly.

"How romantic," I scoffed. "No wonder you won Mom over."

"Watch your tone with me, young lady," Dad said, pointing his finger at  me and the single gesture curdled my stomach. I wanted to rip it off,  and shove it back in his face.