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Abby was just waiting. Will was late again. He was totally losing it lately. Something had him jumpy, and she almost thought he was on drugs again or something. She knew her brother was stupid like that sometimes. She was going to have to make him stop.
The cops had stopped by their house that morning before Braelyn had picked her up for work, but Braelyn was working overtime tonight. Abby had had to call Will. They were asking questions about when her dad used to work for Morris Preston all those years ago. He hadn’t driven for Morris in thirty years, he’d told them. But Abby knew he was lying. Her dad had never stopped working for Morris Preston.
Morris had just always paid her dad in cash. She knew what he had been doing wasn’t legal, but what else were they supposed to do?
It was expensive to buy food for two kids. Her dad had done what he had to do.
Her dad hadn’t hurt anyone. She’d told that stupid cop Zach Lowell that too. Zach thought he was so much better than everyone else. He always had, when he was just a stupid orphan and everything. So what that his parents had left him a few million dollars? Not like he had that money right now—he’d probably lost it or something. Why else was he working as a cop? Everyone knew cops didn’t make much money at all.
He was hot, but he was so not husband potential. She wanted better than a cop.
Abby stood outside the employee entrance to the inn and waited.
She was seriously going to kick Will’s ass for this. She just was.
A sound of someone walking through the snow came behind her.
Abby turned.
There was a man there. And he was a lot bigger than Will.
At first, she thought he was Fletcher, and hope filled her. Maybe he wanted to talk? Maybe he was dumping Dylan and wanted Abby to go out with him instead?
But then he limped closer, and she realized the truth.
It wasn’t Fletcher, but she didn’t know who he was at all. He looked like Fletcher and some of his cousins and his brothers, but this guy was a good ten or fifteen years older than Abby. She didn’t think she had ever seen him before either.
“Hi, sweetie. Ready to go party? You aren’t exactly my type, but I think I’ll make an exception tonight. It’s been a long, long time—heard you have an ugly soul. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes so I don’t see it, huh?”
His hand wrapped around her elbow. Abby didn’t even think to fight.
Not with the gun in the man’s hand. The gun he had pointed right at her.
“Wh-wh-who are you?”
“Why, precious, I’m an old friend of your daddy’s, who else? Let’s go find baby brother. There’s something we are going to talk about.”
Abby didn’t know what to do now at all.
Table of Contents
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- Page 54 (Reading here)
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