Page 12 of I Should Hate You-but I Don't

The foster system was no place you'd want a child. Now that Kenna had left the system as an adult, it was even harder to find her.

There was nothing Pruitt could do to him while sitting on death row unless he had a team of men working for him on the outside—which he could have. But as long as Pruitt was alive, he'd have access to River and Kenna. He wouldn't do a damn thing to put the girls in danger.

He had to continue protecting River until he understood what he was up against.

River deserved the truth about how he came into her life and why he protected her. But he could never tell her without her finding out her father was on death row.

While it wasn't his secret to keep, he understood that River already believed her dad was dead. To undo the truth and have her go through his death again when the state decided to kill him was pure cruelty.

Becoming intimate with her only complicated things. She deserved the truth, and he could never give it to her.

Chapter Five

River

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At four o'clock, River shut down the computer she used to make the reservations. Surprisingly, she made reservations for the upcoming week and as far out as Labor Day.

Phil walked into the cabin and tapped his watch. "Your shift is over and mine is starting."

"You work too much." She smiled, knowing her boss enjoyed working at the campground. "I shut off the computer."

Phil stayed until eight o'clock in case any of the campers ran out of toilet paper or wanted to buy bug spray, and then he locked up the cabin until seven o'clock in the morning. Her new hours were nine to four; unlike in the kitchen, she'd only work four days a week instead of five or six.

The pay was different. Though she had fewer hours, she'd bring home the same amount of money, and she wondered if Zane had something to do with her getting paid more at the campground.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. UPS dropped off a few packages, and I put them in the office. I wasn't sure if they were supplies and I should open them or if they were personal." She pushed the chair under the desk.

"Any deliveries here can be opened and put up on the shelves. If you don't know where something belongs, you can ask me when you see me." Phil took out the cash drawer from the register. "You were busy."

"Yeah." She inhaled deeply, satisfied with her day. "Is it always like that, or just because it's my first day and the first day of the season?"

Phil laughed. "It'll get busier. The Fourth of July will have you rethinking wanting to work here."

"By then, I hope to be more confident in the job I can do," she said.

"You're doing fine." Phil met her gaze. "You did real good on your first day."

She smiled. "Thanks."

She gathered her backpack and left the cabin as two campers came in looking for lighter fluid for their campfire. Hefting her pack over her shoulders, she set out on the worn path through the woods that would take her to the bar. From there, she could walk to the house or go up the hill about five hundred yards to the clubhouse. Beyond the clubhouse were ten cabins used by the motorcycle club—they were off-limits to her per Zane and Kingsley orders.

She headed home, and once again, all her thoughts went to Zane. She hadn't seen him for a few days after running into him on her first day of work, the morning after they fooled around.

Despite her staying up late to watch for him, he hadn't returned to the garage apartment until after she'd fallen asleep. Or maybe he hadn't returned and stayed at the clubhouse instead.

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach, imagining him staying there because women would sleep with anyone. She'd heard the talk at the bar. Sex was easy to find if you wore the patch.

At the door, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at the screen. Cell reception was spotty on the mountain, but she'd found the best signal was five feet from the door if she faced the bar. Two weak signals came through. Holdingthe phone steady, she checked her inbox. Besides a few sales advertisements, there was nothing there.

She'd posted messages to her sister on the internet. There was a Facebook group that catered to the area where she last lived. Also, she paid for a classified ad that was in the paper and online in St. Maries, their hometown, where they lived with their dad. But so far, her sister hadn't contacted her.

It was a long shot, but it was all she could do without hiring a private detective.

Kenna had no idea where River was, if she had a phone, or if she was looking to be found.

She opened the door and walked inside. Halfway up the stairs, she heard a noise. She stopped, careening her head to hear what it was that had got her attention when athunkcame from upstairs.

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