Page 53 of Ride or Die

“Don’t get your panties in a wad.” Butch waves a dismissive hand. “I’ll make sure he gets back in one piece.” He grins, the gold teeth in his mouth glinting beneath the light.

I heave a resigned sigh, knowing there really is no way out of it.

“Silvio?” Butch says to the man-mountain while still looking at me. “Call ahead to Midland and let ’em know you and Cole are on your way.”

Silvio’s dark gaze flits to me, and with a curt nod, he turns and hurries off.

“What the fuck, Cole?” Austin booms once we’re outside, away from the throng. He throws a hand back toward the mob of Butch’s men congregating outside the barn. “I told you to keep your goddamn nose outta this but you… y-you what?” He scoffs. “You go askin’ the goddamn fuckin’ mob boss for a… favor?”

I keep my chin held high, accepting whatever it is he gives me because he’s right. I made a mistake. But honestly, I’d do it again if I had to.

“These are not good fuckin’ guys, Cole,” Austin gruffs through gritted teeth like I don’t already know. “How many times I gotta tell you? You got a problem, you fuckin’ come to me.”

“You… couldn’t help with this.”

“This got somethin’ to do with that pretty blonde from Meow’s?” Webber asks, and hell, I almost forgot he was standing here.

Snapping my head to the side, I meet his knowing gaze.

“Fuck’s sake, Cole,” Austin mutters again.

Exhaling hard through my nose, I look down.

“Who is she?”

“It ain’t none of your goddamn business,” I grit out with a little more venom than intended.

“Well clearly it is my fuckin’ business, Cole,” Austin yells. “Because now you gotta get into a fuckin’ truck and drive through the night down to West fuckin’ Texas to pick up a shipment of somethin’ that can’t be fuckin’ good and deliver it to the… goddamn cartel.” He lowers his tone at that last part, and I can’t help but balk.

“What?” My eyes widen as I search his. “Cartel?”

Austin throws his head back then, dragging his hands down his face.

I step up to Austin this time, lowering my voice. “You never said fuckin’ nothin’ about no goddamn cartel, Boss.”

He has the decency to look remorseful, so at least I know he knows he’s fucked me. Heaving a sigh, Austin meets my hard stare. “I didn’t know until tonight.”

Scoffing, I shake my head, turning to see the group of men huddled around their trucks. I knew what Austin was doing was bad. Ain’t nothin’ good can come working with Butch or his men. It was always gonna be bad. But I had no fuckin’ idea they were involved with a goddamn cartel.

“Cole, let’s go!” Silvio shouts, his deep voice echoing through the night.

I glance at Austin and Webber, my gaze darting to Cruz standing over by his Bronco smoking a cigarette. Meeting Austin’s eyes once more, I don’t bother saying anything before I turn and head to the truck Silvio’s climbing into. Frankly, I don’t trust myself not to say something I might die regretting.

CHAPTER 19

CLARA

Itexted Cole when I left work, just like he asked me to. But as I pull up to the house and text him again to let him know that I’m home, I can’t help but notice there’s no reply to my first message. Not even a read receipt. Why ask me to text you if you’re not even going to respond? Maybe it was just his polite way of acting like he gives a shit.

Shaking my head, I place my phone into my purse and hop out of the car, trying not to think too much about therealreason Cole had to leave the club so abruptly. I don’t want to think that he’s a liar, but his lack of response is doing little to dispel the thoughts that have no business taunting me, like the thought that he left because he received some sort of late-night booty call he simply couldn’t say no to. He’s a single, twenty-six-year-old bull rider for god’s sake. What the hell would he want with a thirty-three-year-old single mom? God, I have no right in feeling whatever it is these feelings are currently churning in my chest.

The front door opens when I make it up the porch steps, and I’m surprised to see Mrs. Shaw—Mama Joy—standing in the doorway smiling at me through the screen. Poor woman has probably been waiting for me so she can go home.

“Hi, I’m so sorry,” I say, walking inside. “I got held up because there was a mix up with breaks and I had to work an extra thirty minutes to cover for?—”

“Oh, hon.” Mama Joy tuts, waving a hand. “I just made tea. You want a cup?”

I falter a step, looking around. The house is quiet, dimly lit by nothing but the floor lamp in the corner of the small living room, an open book lying on the sofa where I assume Mama Joy had been sitting when I pulled up. She was waiting for me. But not so she could leave. I feel an unfamiliar tug in my chest as I release a relieved breath.