Page 41 of Riding Hard

“I got him now, no worries. He’s fed and happy. New school and everything, too.”

She blinks, her lip curling before she speaks. “Does this mean I won’t get my child support anymore?”

Dare growls. I hold up my hand because I hear him take a step forward. I don’t want him to do anything—at least not yet. It doesn’t matter what she says. She doesn’t matter. I couldn’t give a fuck. She won’t live to see tomorrow.

“No,” I murmur, trying to keep my voice even and soft. “It means you won’t even see the sunlight again, let alone a dime from me.”

My fingers tighten in her hair. No matter the abuse and neglect I’ve suffered in my own life, I’ve never hated anyone—except Destinee. I fucking hate her with every fiber of my being. I will not mourn her dying. I’m going to fucking relish it.

And I do.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

JULIETTE

I watch him walk out of the bar without noticing me. I’m not sure he actually sees anything. He is beyond focused. Bringing my attention back to my water, I wonder why I’m even staying here. I should get in my car and drive back to my motel.

I bite my bottom lip and begin to tug on the corner of the water bottle label. I’m not even sure how long I sit there, peeling the plastic wrap, but when someone sits down across from me, I drag my gaze from my water to the person watching me.

I don’t speak.

I don’t recognize this person, and as much as I don’t want to be rude, I can’t help myself, because he isn’t Slade. And the only person I really want to see right now is Slade. I watched him walk out of the clubhouse and straight outside.

I can’t help but wonder what’s going on.

The vibe in this place is electric, and not in a fun and happy way. Something is happening. I don’t know what, and I’m not sure I should, but I’m far more curious than I should be.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I work the flesh there as I wait for whatever this person is going to say to me. I don’t know who he is, but the patches on his vest indicate he’s part of the Iron Flame, so I guess he’s someone.

“So, you and Loot,” he states.

I blink because I’m not sure how to respond to that. Slade and I had one night together, and he didn’t even sleep over. As much as I want to think that we’re more than just a one-time, one-night thing, I honestly don’t know.

I open my mouth then snap my lips closed and press my lips together. My eyes scan his patches again, and I see a name patch on his chest. Sparrow. I don’t know how they come up with these names. I think I’ll ask Slade when I see him again. Because it doesn’t seem to have rhyme or reason from the outside looking in.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking, if you’re asking?”

It almost seems like Slade has told him or someone else something about us being together. I can’t imagine that a man in his fifties would go around bragging about getting laid, especially a man like him, who I would assume has no problem at all in that department.

He shrugs a shoulder. “Not really asking, just an observation. I could tell he was into you when you were here working the other day. I happened to drive by the motel and saw his bike there.”

So he doesn’t know. He’s fishing for information. Since I don’t know him, I’m not going to go into detail about anything. Even if I did know him, I don’t think I would. Not even Alex and Elodie know any dirty details. All they know is that it was the best I’ve ever had, better than I imagined sex could be, really

Instead of saying any of that, I lift my bottle of water to my lips, allowing the cool liquid to slide down my throat, buying myself a few more seconds of time before it becomes too awkward.

“Okay,” I say. “He did come to my motel.”

Sparrow’s lips twitch into a smirk. “No kiss and tell?”

“Not my style.” I’m not sure if it’s a lie or not.

I don’t really know what my style would be, considering I’m not really versed in kissing or telling. But I let it be and don’t try to clarify anything else. Sparrow raps his finger on the table between us, tapping it a couple of times before he stands, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Gotta be a strong woman to be part of our group. I know you must be. Otherwise, Wrath’s old lady wouldn’t have brought you into the fold.”

I am taken aback by his words. I’m not sure if I’m truly in the fold, but strong? Now that is funny. I would never consider myself strong—not before Victor, and especially not after him. Having been with him, run from him, been dragged back to him over and over again, and continuing to run, I’m not strong.