Page 96 of Break the Barrier

I pullmy car into the school drop-off line and smile at my passenger. “Ready for your audition?”

Lue scoffs and waves a hand at me playfully. “Please, I got this.”

At fifteen, Lue was definitely coming into her own as a young woman. I see subtle changes in her every time I look at her now, like how her hair is getting fuller and longer, how her lips are fuller too, and how her body has grown practically three, maybe even four inches over the summer.

All while that’s happening, she’s still stayed such a humble girl.

She was in her third week of school now, and the subtle fall weather was coming over our mountain quickly. She left her days of Helena behind and wowed her drama teacher enough that she was practically begged to audition for the school winter play.

“You do.” I nod my head with a smile and watch her grab her backpack when our turn to drop off arrives.

“Thanks for the ride, Thea,” she says, her maturity surprising me once more.

“Anytime. See you later.”

“See you at home,” she replies, jumping out and meeting up with her friends on the sidewalk before heading into the school.

I follow the line of cars out of the parking lot, my thoughts on how happy and content I am by the way I am able to live.

I never thought I would feel this happy by simply dropping a kid off at school in the morning, but it was more than that. Logan trusted me to do that, he loved me enough to put his daughter—his most valuable thing—in my hands and have me safely deliver her.

We’d fallen into a new routine, where we would have breakfast in the morning, and because the school was on the way to the restaurant rather than the ranch, I’d volunteered to take her for him.

When I did, the look of happiness on Logan’s face was priceless and made me wish I could do it all over again.

We’d all go to our respective places for the day, and Lue usually wandered over to the restaurant after school since it was about five blocks down from where she was. From there, either Logan would pick her up and take her home, or I would take the night off and do it myself. I couldn’t do that all the time because my sisters deserved time off as well.

The routine had come so naturally, nothing had halted it from being seamless, and for once in my life, I felt like something was actually going right.

I should have known that it wasn’t going to last forever.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Dorothy.”

I nearly roll my eyes at the trite phrase. Don’t villains have anything better to say? Though my careless motion and relaxed frame was all a farce for the tall, smelly man who leaned against the side of my bar.

Fear was a strong emotion there as well, but the last thing I need is for Bones to think that I have something to fear.

If I have nothing to lose, what do I have to be afraid of?

“Bones, what do you want?”

He shrugs, straightening up from his stance and reaching into his vest pocket. My heart momentarily stops when his hand disappears, and he notices, smirking, when he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and hits it into his hand.

“It’s not really what I want,” he starts, taking out one cigarette and fitting it between his lips. I see a flash of gold pop out from his mouth as he opens it, and I take a small step back. Everything about him bothers me, and maybe it was from all the times he openly hit on me, grabbed me, made passes at me, and Eric stood by and did nothing. “Bookie wants what’s owed to him.”

Right. “Bookie” was Eric’s road name, because he was in charge of the books. Something had gone down with his club around the same time that he murdered that poor dry cleaners owner in cold blood, and I had ratted him out.

Frankly, he would probably be dead if I hadn’t gone to the police to turn my ex-husband in.

“I have nothing left. Nothing to my name.”

Bones looks over his shoulder, pointedly staring at the bar with a Bottle Grounds sign on the front. “Looks like you’ve got plenty to me.”

I shrug, crossing my arms to ward off the chill that was suddenly attacking my well-being. Something told me it hadnothing to do with the fall breeze that had blown through just seconds before.

“I don’t own this, it’s not mine. I’ve got maybe a few hundred dollars to my name,” I say, hoping the lie puts him off.

The truth is that Dorothy Weaver has nothing, technically. Dorothy Cash’s husband, however…well, he took over everything legally, to be handed back over to me once I was sure Eric couldn’t get to it.