Page 20 of Ride or Die

Austin fronts up to me, arms folded across his chest, steely look in his eyes.

“Why the fuck’d you call Cruz last night?” he grits out, keeping his voice low and full of warning.

A thick swallow works its way down my throat as I think of something—anything—to tell him that doesn’t jeopardize Clara or her kids. Removing my hat, I rake my fingers through my hair, glancing up at the dark-purple sky tinged with the hint of gold, creeping in from the east.

“Is there somethin’ I should know about, Cole?” Austin presses me, and he’s both stern and concerned because he’s not just my boss, he’s like a brother to me.

I shake my head, teeth gritted tight.

He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me.

“I promise,” I assure him. “It was a… personal… thing.”

A crease burrows between Austin’s eyebrows as he studies me a moment, softening a touch and looking me up and down. “You okay?”

I nod once.

Accepting my response, Austin sighs, removing his hat and pushing his overgrown hair back from his face. “Be careful withhim, Cole,” he says after a moment. “He’s on the payroll but… if he takes money from me, who’s to say who else he takes money from, y’hear?”

I nod, again, slowly this time, seriously considering what he’s just told me because he’s right. The only thing my daddy ever said worth something was that there ain’t nothing more dangerous than a crooked cop.

“If you’re in trouble, you come to me,” Austin adds, offering me a no-bullshit look.

I nod again. “Yeah, I know. I’m okay though, I swear. I’ll tell ya if I’m not.”

His eyes flit between mine, looking at me like he’s trying to call my bluff, and I avert my gaze over to the bunkhouse, right as Brady and Webber walk out.

“You get on down to the barn,” Austin mutters. “Horses ain’t gonna feed ’emselves.”

I throw him a salute and jog to join the fellas as they head down toward the stables to start on the morning chores, never more thankful for having to shovel shit.

I tap my knuckle against the door, taking a step back and waiting. Moments later, the latch releases and ever so carefully, the door inches open, only I don’t see Clara’s face like I’d expected. I don’t even see Tom. I’m forced to look down. Way down. Spotting a set of wide blue eyes peering up at me, framed by an untamed mop of curly blonde hair.

“Hi,” she says with a small smile.

“Well, howdy there, Miss.” I remove my hat, crouching down to get to her eye level. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. My name’s Cole.” Holding my hand out, she eyes itdubiously, like she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to do with it, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“I’m Billie,” she says, her little fist bumping my extended hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Billie.”

“Billie, what’d I tell you about opening the door?” A chiding voice comes from behind her and the little girl offers me an impish grin while closing the door right in my face.

Seconds later the door swings open again, only this time I’m met with Clara looking freshly showered yet flustered, her cheeks tinged pink with exertion.My eyes rake down her body almost as if instinctually, and it’s only then I notice the red tank top that shows off a hint of her belly button, and the cut off jean shorts that emphasize her curves. Goddamn.

“Sorry,” she says on a breathless huff, forcing my attention from her hips. “It’s… been a morning.”

I fold my arms across my chest, arching a brow. “You packed?”

She nods quickly, looking over her shoulder like she’s doing one last check. “Yeah.”

“Need me to grab anythin’?”

She shakes her head, and I stand here while she disappears, the door swinging open for me to get a look in. I’ve never been inside the Sleepy Nites Motel, but it’s just as miserable as I imagined it to be, and no place for kids. My house certainly ain’t no Hilton, but it’s clean and it’s safe. Free of mold and meth dealers, at least.

I still have no idea what I’m doin’ offering this stranger and her kids a place to stay, but if Mama were here, I know she’d be proud, and that’s all that matters to me.

“Hi.” Billie waves at me from where she’s sitting on the end of one of the beds, pink sneakered feet kicking back and forth, her dog, Curly, if memory serves, tucked close to her chest.