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CHAPTER THREE

DAKOTA

I’m grateful when I see the Thunder Rock city limit sign because while the drive here was uneventful, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a ball of nervous energy the entire time. I feel like I’m going to need at least a month’s worth of sleep just to get all the anxiety to dissipate from my system.

I pull into the first motel parking lot that I can find, which I fear is likely the only motel in the whole town, considering this is not a big place. It’s actually a small town, especially if the city limit population sign is correct—Pop. 6,275.

Unplugging my phone from the charger, I send Briana a text to let her know I’m here in Thunder Rock safe and sound, although I’m sure she already knows through that Life360 app. I still want to tell her, though. It seems like the right thing to do.

She sends me a short but sweet response, telling me to be careful and get some rest, and she also reminds me to check in before I go to bed. I almost roll my eyes but decide against it because I’ve never had anyone care about me as much as Briana does.

Opening my car door, I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, hitch my purse over my shoulder, and make my way toward the front desk. I’ve become a pro of sorts at getting motel rooms since starting on my journey across the country.

When I slip into the office, a woman lifts her head, her eyes meet mine, and she narrows them. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder to see if someone is perhaps behind me, but there isn’t anyone, so she’s annoyed with me… I’m not sure what I’ve done, considering I haven’t even spoken yet.

“I was wondering if you had a room for a week’s stay?” I ask, my voice coming out far more timid sounding than I imagined.

She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, then lets out an exhale, clearly still very annoyed by my existence. She reaches for something beneath the counter, then produces a large, thick book and flings it open, the sound of it thudding as it hits the countertop.

“First or second floor,” she snaps, not looking up from said book.

“Second floor, please,” I whisper.

I have no idea if the second floor is safer or not than the first floor. I feel like for a fire, it would definitely be the better place. However, if someone was going to break into a room, I feel like the first floor is where they would focus their attention.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

“You got your pick of the rooms. There’re six to choose from. They’re all the same,” she says, and I halfway expect her to pop some gum at the end of her sentence, but she’s not chewing any.

“I guess the middle one?” I ask.

I’m not sure why I’m asking, but I’m also not sure which room I should choose, so here I am. She nods her head, scribbles something down, then holds out her hand. I stare into her palm, wondering what I’m supposed to be doing.

“Driver’s license and credit card,” she snaps.

Well then.

Reaching into my purse, I take out my small wallet and produce my driver’s license and credit card, which is really my debit card with a Visa logo, because I don’t have enough credit to apply and be approved for a real credit card.

I watch as she scribbles some more things down, then spins around on her stool, hops down, and walks over to a machine. She copies my license, then turns back and walks over to what I assume is a computer, but I’ve never seen one so big before.

She moves her fingers over the keyboard with ease, then slides both of my cards back to me before she reaches beneath her counter again and hands me a key.

“It’s the only one I got, so if you get locked out, we gotta call the locksmith, and that’s gonna cost you a couple hundred bucks 'cause he’s gotta come all the way from Greensboro.”

I don’t understand half of what she’s saying. I don’t know what Greensboro is or what a locksmith is, but I promise I won’t lock myself out and pray that I can keep said promise as I reach out and curl my fingers around the key.

“You wanna stay longer than a week, just let me or Krista know, and we’ll charge your card. Don’t got extra towels. You want a towel. You gotta come down here and get one. Same goes for sheets.”

I gulp, realizing that this is nothing like any of the other places I’ve stayed at along the way. And I’m also wishing for something nicer than this, but this is where I am. and this is what I need to do to figure out what is going on with my father, with my past, with my life.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I take a step backward.

She narrows her eyes on me, watching me as I spin around, and I can feel the heat from her gaze on my back as I walk back out to my car, even as I take the luggage out of the trunk, plus my laptop bag, and the sensation doesn’t stop until I’m inside of the room, the door closed and the locks all locked.

Flipping on the light, I look around the room and frown. It’s old, scratched up and in tatters, but as I move into the space and really take it all in, it’s clean. When I slide my fingers across the scarred-up dresser, there isn’t even a speck of dust to be seen.

This room is like me.

Scarred, tattered, and torn, but doing its best.

And I’m doing my best, too.

BULLET

Sitting in the parking lot of Ivy’s firm, I watch and wait to see this bitch walk into the building for her meeting. I have no clue what I’m going to do or how I’m going to play this, but I know I have to be here.

Piggy is supposed to be working on getting her background information, but it is taking him longer because he doesn’t know her name. After today, I’ll have that for him. Then he can give me anything and everything he can find on her. I’m also going to set up a little surveillance of my own.

A dark four-door sedan pulls into the lot. I watch as she swings wide, parking at the very end of the lot, the car all alone. Giving herself a wide berth but parking crooked as shit anyway. My lips twitch into a smirk as she backs up and then tries a second time, no less crooked.

Fuck me.

If Shade knew this bitch, he did not teach her to drive worth a goddamn. The door swings open, and she unfolds from the car. I’m not sure what I expect, maybe an ogre of a bitch, but that is not what greets my gaze.

This woman is fucking beautiful, even from afar.

And she’s a woman.

She’s long and lean. Has dark hair that is full and shiny. It even bounces as she walks down the sidewalk. She’s wearing sunglasses that cover her eyes, but I can see her smooth skin and the lines of her figure even from the distance. She’s wearing skinny black jeans with flat black boots that hit her at the ankles.

She stops right in front of the door, so close to me that I could probably smell her perfume if I tried. She reaches forward to touch the handle of the door, then stops and brings her hand back to her side.

Tilting my head, I watch her for a moment. Really watch her. She’s trembling. I can see her hand shaking slightly at her hip. She takes half of a step backward, then tugs her glasses off her face before shoving them in her bag.

She lifts her arm, and I watch as she runs her fingers through her hair, tugging on the back of it. She turns her head, and her gaze looks right through me—brown eyes, no, not brown. Gold. The sunlight catches them, and I watch as they fucking glitter.

Full lips.

Full hair.

Full hips.

Fuck me.

She’s gorgeous.

I want to hate her instantly, but it’s going to be hard as fuck because my cock is begging to be inside of her. My balls ache at the sight of her standing just a few feet away. My hands itch to feel her skin.

And my brain… It’s fighting my body in a way it never has before.

This is beyond wanting my dick sucked. This is something I don’t understand, and with her, I’m never going to figure it out, either. In fact, I’m going to bury it. Bury it down beneath the anger and hate that I feel for her. My body cannot fuck me over on this.

I will not let her walk away with everything that Shade worked for just because she’s some fucked-up blood relation. She steps into the office, and I lift my eyes to the sky.

“What the hell is going on here?” I ask nothing and nobody in particular.

Closing my eyes, I let the sun shine down on me and will Shade to make himself known. Did he hear me? The wind blows over my face. Almost as if it’s an answer. I just don’t know what that answer is.

Clearing my throat, I straighten and look straight ahead at the door, then throw my leg over the side of my bike and make my way toward the office. Following the same path as the bitch, I open the door and slip inside. I’m not sure what office she’s in, but when I see the receptionist behind the counter, I flash her a smile and jerk my chin toward her.

“Hello, Bullet,” she breathes.

I haven’t fucked her yet, but not for lack of trying. She’s a sexy little blonde, but I know that Ivy would fucking kill me. She’s his first cousin and, without a doubt, more like a daughter to him than anything else. She is wholly fucking off-limits.

“Hey, babe. Ivy in?”

Her lips curve up into a grin. “He’s waiting for you.”

Lifting my hand, I touch my index finger against her nose and move past her toward Ivy’s office. I rap my knuckles against the door as I push it open. Ivy is sitting behind his fancy-as-fuck wooden desk, his law books neatly organized behind him on shelves.

He’s wearing a suit and tie, which I always find fucking hilarious because I know he’s covered in tattoos from wrist to neck, front and back.

“Got her name,” he murmurs. “You know I did some shady shit to get that information.”

“You suck John’s dick?” I ask.

His head flies up, and his eyes meet mine. “Shut the fuck up,” he grunts.

Pressing my lips together, I try not to laugh. “You shot that back pretty quickly. I’m wondering if you’re protesting too much.”

“Keep going, I’ll shoot you where you fucking stand,” he growls.

Chuckling, I sink down in the chair across from him. “What’s the name?” I ask, deciding it’s time to stop busting his balls because, for whatever reason, he’s feeling sensitive today.

“Dakota Vaughn.”

Fuck me.

But that’s a great goddamn name.

Shade must have named her.