Page 35 of Exile & Lula

Smiling at how his body clearly wanted to take our affection to the bedroom, I remarked, “I needed that.” I walked to the kitchen counter and grabbed my purse. “Let’s head out before I get cold feet about leaving the house again.”

“Feeling the pinch over what happened?” Exile asked, wearing a steely gaze.

“With my every breath.”

Before I could get upset, I walked to the garage. Exile followed me to my black BMW SUV. As the garage doors opened, I slid into the driver’s seat while Exile filled up the passenger’s spot.

“I talked to Stevie today,” I said, trying to stay calm. “That helped, but, yeah, I’m feeling the pinch today.”

“Maybe we should stay at your place,” he suggested while I backed out of the driveway.

“That’ll only feed my paranoia. This is my town. I have people around, searching for trouble. Besides, you’re with me. If I start hiding now, when will I ever be able to stop?”

“I only have a single pistol and an extra mag,” Exile said, already looking for threats before we even left the Sleepy Eye Community.

“I’m packing. Both in my purse and under your seat.”

Nodding, Exile relaxed at the thought of us going to lunch, locked and loaded.

My mind weighed heavily with thoughts of the past and worries about the future. So, rather than drive straight to the restaurant, I made a stop at a place my dad knew well.

I parked at the massive quarry where the club sometimes buried its enemies. Exile likely knew the significance of this place and was slow to exit. Only when he realized I was standing in the open did he move his ass with more urgency.

“What are we doing here?” Exile asked, standing between the road and me.

The area was quiet today despite plenty of people keeping watch. When my gaze returned to Exile, I found a man standing at a crossroads.

Studying him, I asked, “What do you see when you look at me?”

“A gorgeous, intelligent woman.”

“And how do you see yourself?”

“I’m a guy with money and responsibility. I do okay.”

“Do you have hangups about your dad?”

Exile went still, likely wondering how much I knew about his father’s crimes. Despite his agitation, he shrugged and asked, “Who doesn’t?”

“My brother doesn’t have any hangups.”

Narrowing his gaze, Exile snapped, “Well, maybe Rowdy ought to.”

“Don’t lash out because you feel on the spot.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I need you to know who I am,” I explained in a soft voice, hoping to keep him focused on me rather than his insecurities. “A person is more than what you see on the outside. I’m not just a lawyer, mom, and member of the Crimson Guard. I’m my parents’ daughter. My mom came from a long line of women who sold their bodies to pay the rent. Bebe was the first one to do something else. She was a maid at a hotel.”

“There’s no shame in working a job.”

“My blood father wanted to pimp her out,” I explained, hating to admit I wasn’t Pax’s biological daughter. “Wolfman was a violent pimp and went to prison for dog fighting.”

Exile scowled, seeming confused. “I didn’t know Pax wasn’t your real dad.”

I smiled at his words, having spent most of my life wishing I were blood-related to Pax rather than Wolfman.

“When I was three, Wolfman sold Bebe and me to a gang of assholes to pay a debt. I remember thinking we were going to die, but then Pax showed up and made things better.”