Page 112 of Finish Line

If Shelby hadn’t made me sit here and think, I would have barreled in and forced Lea to come home with me, even if it meant tossing her over my shoulder and carrying her back.

But Shelby doesn’t want me to take away anyone’s choice, like Roger did to all of us.

Sighing, I flick my eyes over to her. “I want her to return home with me, but I can’t force her to. She would be much better off at home, with her family.”

“Are you going to tell her about Roger?” She glances at me.

“Yeah, I have to. She needs to know he’s a threat to her. That might convince her to come home if nothing else will.”

“Luke, she won’t be safe at your house, either.”

“She will.” I grow frustrated.

She shakes her head. “You can’t be around her twenty-four-seven. Who’s going to protect her when you are at school?”

“My mom,” I state through gritted teeth.

She picks her hand up off my leg, turns, and looks out the window. “As feisty as your mom is, I don’t think she’s a match for Roger. Look what he did to us.”

I’m an ass. Shelby’s worried about my family getting hurt, and I bite her head off. She’s right, though. Mom wouldn’t be a match for him.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You’re thinking about how to keep everyone in my family safe, angel. But I want my sister home.”

“You miss her. I understand, but I want to make sure you’re prepared for how this might go down.” She places her hand back on my leg.

Shelby keeps me occupied while driving, moving the conversation to lighter topics. After a couple of hours, we cross the Virginia border into Danville. The minute we do, the sky opens up, and the rain starts.

The GPS directs us to the edge of town, where the houses turn from middle-class family houses to rundown drug dens.

“If this is any indication of her life…” I murmur.

“Why? Because the area is bad? You can’t judge her by where she lives,” Shelby says. “Cin and I lived in a run-down, one-bedroom apartment. We paid a hooker to play our mom when we needed a guardian to rent it. Don’t judge, Mr. Silver Spoon.”

My head jerks back. “You had a hooker be your mom?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “We found her in the next town over.”

“Huh.” I rub my chin. “I always thought Ricky rented it for you.”

“Didn’t know him at that time.”

“And you used your winnings to pay for the rent.” I remember her saying that.

“Yeah. I miss that freedom.” She glances out the window at our surroundings.

“We’re here.” I pull onto the street the GPS tells me to and into the parking lot for a wretched-looking apartment building and find a parking spot.

Even though it’s raining, two guys sit on the steps, hanging out and smoking. Only drug dealers would be out in this weather. The ten-story apartment building lacks security or emergency fire escapes, and those two block the only way in or out.

After exiting my car, we race up the steps to the apartment building to stay as dry as possible. My gun is in the back of my jeans. The guys sitting on the steps eye us as we go inside. A large X is taped over the elevator.

“I guess it doesn’t work,” I say.

“Well, I need my exercise for the day. What floor?” she asks.

I pull the piece of paper Nick gave me out of my pocket, glancing at it. “Five. Apartment five-ten.”

We jog up the steps to the fifth floor. When I open the door, spice and spoiled garbage permeate the air from the trash bags that lay outside several of the doors.

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