Page 15 of Retribution
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dakota
Dakota woke upin a cold sweat, her heart pounding out of her rib cage while trying to grab a breath big enough so she could stop panicking. A shudder rushed down her spine and she licked her lips as her attention shifted in the half-darkness toward the mound of blankets on the floor. Cobra was breathing deeply; he obviously hadn’t moved much since they’d both gone to bed. Relief sank into her bones.
When he’d lain down on the floor with his pillow and blanket, she hadn’t been too sure his good behavior would stick—at least not the whole night. It’d taken her a solid two or three hours before she’d plummeted from weariness into a deep sleep.
Now she caught her breath and tried to put her thoughts into some kind of order.
Logic was still far away, but panic was receding as she sat up and immersed herself back into the surroundings. With every crack in the paint she counted, the memories fled deeper into her mind. The less on the surface, the more she could ignore the shadows that’d been haunting her from the past.
I need to get out of here.
Without thinking, Dakota nabbed the door key Cobra had left on the dresser and swung the backpack on her shoulder. Still in her blue jeans and a tank top, she maneuvered carefully over the sleeping biker toward the door then tiptoed around him. Each measured step seemed like it took an eternity.
Less than a heartbeat away from putting her hand around the doorknob, fingers gripped her ankle and pulled back hard enough that she nearly tripped. A small shriek escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth with one hand. All the small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
“Where’re you going?” Cobra’s slow, sleepy words nearly knocked the wind out of her lungs.
“Why does it matter to you? Shit, you didn’t have to scare me like that.”
She shook her ankle, but his fingers tightened to a slight pinch on her flesh. Dakota held her breath.
“It matters.” He released his grip and rubbed a hand over his face. “Wait for me. I’ll come with you.”
“I don’t need an escort, Cobra. I’m a big girl. I can do things by myself. Next thing you know, you’ll be giving me a curfew too.”
Dakota clutched her bag tighter as she turned the knob on the door.
“I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“You got a cell?”
“No.” Dakota stopped the line of questioning and pulled open the door. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself.”
She watched a ripple of unease flow across his expression before he shoved a hand through his hair and exhaled a big breath.
“Be careful. Don’t go back to Duffy’s.”
“Give me some credit for not being a total dumbass,” she muttered and headed out into the abrupt morning sunlight. Powerful rays flooded over the parking lot, and the gravel shimmered as it caught the sunlight. The metallic clatter of pots and pans filtered from a nearby open window, and a chorus of birds broke the drone of semi-trucks barreling down the road.
With slightly shaking hands and adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Dakota pulled her hair up into a ponytail and mentally worked out her game plan. She had about twenty bucks stashed away from her last paycheck at the tattoo shop in Idaho Falls and maybe another four or five dollars in change at the bottom of the backpack. Not even close enough to get a new cell phone or grab a cab anywhere.
It looked like she was walking it again, but at least it would give her time to think and reflect, hopefully on the things of her choosing and not on the demons that always tried to gnaw at her brain. Not sensing a need to pick a particular direction, Dakota just started walking. If she was going to work here for the foreseeable future, it made sense that she get the lay of the land.
While the burning sun beat down on her back, relentless and wicked, she traced a path to the nearest tattoo shop on the downtown strip. The general rule was that tattoo parlors weren’t too hard to find based on proximity to bars, strip clubs, and general downtown fun times and madness. By the time she reached the modest shop, she probably didn’t look her best, but she could still draw a straight line if they demanded a line test on the spot.
The little bell on the front door dinged as Dakota pushed into the shop.
“How can I help you?” The man behind the counter was already halfway out behind the desk before she was inside the place. “Are you here to schedule an appointment?”
His attentiveness was a good sign. The fact that he wore a smile on his face was even better. Not something she was super used to after working at her last shop. Her last boss catered to a rough set of clientele, but it paid the bills and she hadn’t worked up the courage to go anywhere else at the time.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I was wondering if you had any artist openings? I’m new to town and I could use a gig.”
The man cleared his throat. “Oh, well …” To his credit, he didn’t look her up and down at all, which had basically summed up her qualifications for the shop in Idaho Falls. “As a matter of fact, we just had a freelance slot open up for an artist. It’s a ninety-day stint, but after the trial run we’d have you sign a full-time contract, if that sounds like something that would interest you?”
The man leaned against the reception counter with his arms and legs crossed, his head tilted as his brown eyes seemed to be assessing her, but not in a creepy way.
