Page 95 of The Rogue

“We both will,” I seethe.

“Anyway,” Tessa continues. “That’s kind of my thing. I can’t help it. I help people who the system, laws, rules or even grumpy store owners screw over. Including Jackson. He couldn’t defend himself against that mean old lady. So I did it for him.” She grins mischievously. “My way.”

“You’re my hero,” Charlie breathes.

After a moment of silence, Pepper speaks up. “Tell us about the tattoo.”

“Why?” Charlie asks, ignoring Pepper’s subject change.

Tessa looks down, twining her fingers nervously and I worry that the girls are pushing it. “Because the system screwed me over. And I had no one to stick up for me.”

Silence again.

“I’m sorry…whatsystem?” Charlie boldly asks.

“Bureaucracy.” She looks at Pepper. “Ironically, it’s the reason behind my tattoo.” She traces the snake around her arm. “I feel…confined…bound.”

Charlie nods. “I don’t suppose you’d elaborate?”

Tess looks up, blinking, and I know what she’s thinking. She got carried away. “Nope.”

Just when we think the conversation took a cold turn, the girls crowd Tessa, planting themselves on either side of her. They clink their glasses and gently lean in, resting their heads on her shoulders.

22

Ilean into Levi’schest as we watch the sunrise on Willow. His chest is firm, sturdy, secure. “I like this,” I tell him softly. My thoughts slipping from my lips. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

And so far, no one’s made me regret my honesty.

Levi’s arms wrap around me. He hums, brushing his nose against my neck. “Leaning against me?” He cocks his head to the sunrise. “Or that?”

“The whole package.”

"Me too," he tells me. And it makes me feel like now is as good a time as any to say this. I take a breath. "Don't sell her. Willow. Keep her."

A heavy sigh releases from his chest. "Tess. Everything's got a price. That's how it works around here, how I keep it running, successful. I like her too. Jackson's already attached—it'll only get harder when—well, when she's no longer in her prime."

I'm quiet, and he chuckles behind me, his breath on my neck. "I think it's time we introduce you to some other horses."

"Not interested," I grumble, then relax back against his chest.

I’ve been waking at four a.m. again. The first night—after several nights without—was three days ago. When Frank texted me. It was followed byan immediate phone call. And for the first time in over three years…I pressed ignore and put it away.

The text didn’t ask where I was. Just that I needed to come back.

I’ve only been here four weeks. My getaways are usually months. Neverweeks.

He called again yesterday and today. But the message is clear. He needs to reach me.

Which can only mean one thing. I’m in trouble.

Sure, I’ve laid there, staring at the ceiling, thinking,'Maybe this is good news'.

But my gut tells me I’m not that lucky. It’s never good news. They’ve been using me as a witness to come in at just the right moment, and I’m done being a sitting duck.

Frank promised me justice, but I’m no fool. My justice isn’t coming. It should have been years ago when I identified Eric’s killer and my shooter.

But it wasn’t enough. His life and the threat to mine weren’t enough.

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