Page 60 of Filthy Liar

I need to make some money so I can get the hell out of here. I can’t sit around and feel sorry for myself or be scared. What I need to do is work. Make money, pack my shit, and get the hell away.

The beach is calling my name, so I think that’s where I’ll go. I know it’s expensive, but at the same time, I know the ocean has healing properties, too, and I think I need them now more than ever.

I need to heal from my childhood, from Humble and his lies, from my kidnapping, from everything in this life. I just need to heal and breathe. To find peace within myself. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be wholly at peace, but I can at least try.

The only way to know is if I try.

And I need to leave to do that. Staying anywhere near Shreveport or Pineville will do nothing but keep me down and hold me back.

Walking into the bar, I make my way straight to Sal’s office. The door is closed, which doesn’t surprise me. Sal tends to keep his office locked up whether he’s inside or not.

Lifting my hand, I ball my fist and knock three times, then close my eyes and breathe slowly as I wait for him to call me in. He does. I open the door, slip inside, and close it behind me.

Sal is sitting behind his desk. He doesn’t lift his head for a long moment, but when I stay quiet, his eyes flick up to meet mine, and when they do, his head follows. I watch as his gaze connects with mine, holding unwavering contact for several breaths before he stands from behind his desk.

He moves toward me, a smile appearing on his face as he approaches me. His arms widen and he envelops me in a hug. The moment my arms wrap around him, my entire body exhales and my eyes close.

I breathe.

“You’re okay, honey,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing up and down my back. He takes a step backward, his fingers gripping my biceps. He looks into my eyes, his gaze searching. “You’re going to be okay,” he states.

“I will,” I whisper.

“You want to work the storeroom tonight? We have plenty of inventory to do.”

His offer is sweet—so sweet. I know he’s trying to protect me, but I need the tips and the paycheck. That paycheck is going to get me out of here. The tips are the icing, and I need as many hours as possible.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

DILLION

At least thenight is busy, so busy that I can avoid… everything. My mind doesn’t have even a moment to think about the kidnapping. Which is amazing. When the men start to filter out of the gambling house and I begin cleaning up, it hits me.

My knees buckle as I sink into the cushion of one of the chairs. Lifting my hand to my throat, I try to breathe. I close my eyes and pinch them as I tell myself to breathe in and out.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

At a noise at the door, my eyes open. Turning my head, I look over to see a dark shadow standing in the doorway. I almost scream, but the sound is lost because my voice is completely gone. My body is frozen in terror as I stare straight ahead.

That shadow begins to move toward me. He strides in my direction, and once he’s a few feet away, my eyes adjust and sendthe signal to my brain of who is walking toward me. My breath hitches at the sight of him.

Hope fills me, and then, almost in the same breath, so does anger.

Betrayal and anger.

“The fuck, baby?”

Jumping to my feet, I straighten my spine and stare at him, narrowing my eyes as I do. My fear escapes me completely. I take a step toward him, then another, and place my palms on his chest and push.

He grunts, stumbling backward a few feet, but stays upright, although I notice how his arm wraps around his waist. “The fuck?” he asks again.

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