Page 33 of Property of Fang
“It’s not permanent,” Reno says quietly. “I just need to make enough to cover rent for a few months while I take a course the MPS offers. That’s all. I want things to be different, Fang. I really do.”
Wanting things to be different and having the discipline to go through the discomfort while you get there are two different things, though.
If anyone knows about choosing comfort over pain, it’s me.
“Just this once,” I say. “And we talk about boundaries.” I don’t trust she has it in her to turn things around. For all I know, the course is complete bullshit.
Most of what she said to me was.
“Be here before twelve, Fang.”
“I’ll be there when the club’s done with me.”
She barks a high-pitched laugh. “For real? And what? I just leave Molly on the doorstep when I lock up?”
“You’ll fucking wait until I can get there, is what you’ll do.”
“I have a flight to catch!”
“And I have church.”
She finally quiets down, on the same page with me about the importance of some things. “When?”
“I dunno. Soon. I’ll do my best to be there on time. Gotta make sure the truck’s available.”
“She’s old enough to hold herself on the back of your bike, Fang.”
“She’s not old enough to survive a fall,” I snap. “I’ll bring the truck.”
“Whatever.” Reno disconnects, leaving me in the stark silence of the property. If I focus hard enough, I can make out the murmur of conversations happening indoors, but the overall ambiance is wind in the tall trees and the birds still darting across the barren fields.
It might not be perfect, but it’s still more than I had growing up. She’ll have the woods to explore. I had garages with oil-stained floors. She’s got the run of the farmhouse. I had a two-bedroom home with inadequate insulation. A fully stocked kitchen compared to the barren cupboards I made do with.
But most importantly, she’ll have one thing in common with my childhood.
Family. A big one. Not created by blood but forged in fire. She’ll have a dozen people watching out for her at every turn.
And maybe that’s what she needed all along.
Maybe Iwasthe one who was wrong.
THIRTEEN
JENNA
“Hey.”Loki catches me by the sleeve as I head toward the stairs for a lie-down/existential crisis in Fang’s room.
Nibbles wasn’t wrong. I slept like shit this morning. But like hell I’d admit that to him. He’d probably jump at the chance to be the hero, telling me he can do something that would ‘help me sleep.’Men.
“Here.” Loki pushes a boxed phone against my belly. “Don’t tell Darko I took it.” He grins and offers a wink before turning on his heel.
“Thanks,” I call after him, glancing down at the previously opened packaging. “Let me know what I owe you.”
He half-turns in the foyer. “Nothing, darlin’. We’ve got plenty more like it where that one came from.”
Right.Burner phones. Of course he’d be able to get me one with such short notice.
“It’s already loaded with a small balance to get you going.” He nods toward the tool of crime in my hands. “Don’t use it all at once.”
