Page 127 of Ride or Die

“Daddy’s here,” is all I receive in response, Billie’s voice trembling and barely a whisper.

All the blood drains from my face as I stare out at the dark stretch of highway in front of me.

“Where are you, baby?”

A squeaky sob follows my question. “Your house.”

I shift the truck into gear and slam my foot down on the gas, the tires spinning in the rocks before lurching forward.

“I’m ten minutes away,” I tell her. “Where’s your mama?”

Billie cries. “I don’t know.”

Fuck. “Where’s your brother?”

“He’s hurt. He… he won’t wake up.”

I scrub a hand down my face, glancing at the speedometer. I’m pushing eighty and still willing this goddamn truck to go faster.

“I need you to hide, baby,” I tell Billie. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’m in the bushes.”

“That’s a good girl.” I clear the emotion from my throat. “I promise you I’m on my way. I’ll be there so soon, but I want you to get off the phone and stay super quiet, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

“Yes,” Billie squeaks, her word shuddering with obvious fear.

My heart fucking cracks. “I love you, baby girl.”

“Love you.”

I hate that the first time I’m telling her that I love her is now. In this situation. But I do love Billie. And Tommy. Like they’re my own. And fucked if I’m about to have ’em taken from me.

CHAPTER 49

COLE

“Leave a message.”

“Fuck!” The word explodes out of me, booming through the silence of the truck. “Get to my fuckin’ house,now!” I grit into the phone before tossing it onto the passenger seat.

Fucking Cruz. Three calls. Three fuckin’ calls. Straight to voicemail every time. I slam my palm into the steering wheel hard enough to send a jolt of pain up my arm as the truck screams through the darkness.

We were wrong. We were so fuckin’ wrong. It wasn’t Cain we buried. And that realization tears through me like barbed wire. We buried someone, that much I know. Probably some bottom feeder from the club, some expendable nobody doing Cain’s dirty work. But it wasn’t Cain, and that asshole’s been sitting back, watching, waiting these last few days for his moment to strike. And fuck, deep down, I knew it. It was too quick. Too simple. Too fuckin’ clean.

As the turnoff for my house comes into view through the darkness, a cold weight settles in my gut. I kill the headlights and the world disappears.

My stomach roils and my head fuckin’ throbs. I can barely see straight. I have no idea how I even made it all the way back here in one piece, but I’m here. And I ain’t fuckin’ leavin’ without my girl and her babies.Ourbabies.

The truck rolls forward in silence, tires crunching over gravel on the side of the ride. I listen out for any sign of whatever might be happening, but all I can hear is the thunder of my own heart slammin’ hard against my ears. It’s otherwise quiet. Too quiet. Something’s wrong.

I don’t know how I know. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s the sick uncertainty that’s been clawing at my insides all fuckin’ night. But I just know. Shutting off the engine, I take a moment. Listening. Waiting. Surrounded by nothing but the ticking of cooling metal, the rush of blood in my ears, the distant chirp of insects, and beneath it all, my terror swells until it’s almost too much.

Please. Please let me be wrong. Please let them be okay.

I reach under the seat, pulling out my gun and checking the chamber. As carefully and as quietly as I can, I hop out of the truck and tread lightly, careful to avoid anything on the ground that might crunch too loud beneath my boots.

Holding my gun down by my side, finger ready to pull the fuckin’ trigger if I have to, I turn down the drive, scanning the area around me. The lights are on in the house, but there’s no obvious sound, no voices, nothing.