Page 94 of Smooth Sailing

And I was going to take it.

“I know your name isn’t Suzette,” I told her.

She winced and curled deeper into herself.

“I’m not mad about that either,” I assured her. “I’m not mad about anything, except what was done to you. You were protecting yourself.”

“I don’t want them to find my parents.”

“Who don’t you want to find your parents? Did that man threaten them too?”

“No, not him. The police. I don’t want them to tell my folks where I am.”

Oh boy.

“Do you wanna say why?” I asked.

“Because I got mad at them and took off. It was stupid. And he lied to me. And it was…it was just so, so stupid.”

Oh, this sweet girl.

“What’s your name?”

“Madison,” she whispered.

The tears hit my eyes. “Heya, Madison.”

The tears hit hers before she tossed the pillow aside and threw herself in my arms.

I held her, stroked her hair, and cried with her this time.

Maybe she’d used up most of hers, but she stopped before I did, so I forced myself to do the same.

I held her close even as I reached for the Kleenex. We both mopped up and then I settled us against the headboard, holding her to my side, keeping the tissues at hand.

And I asked, “You wanna tell me?”

She rested her head against my shoulder, and it was the most precious weight I’d ever born.

And then she said, “Yeah.”

I closed my eyes in relief.

And Madison told me.

Big Petey

Hugger was prowling the area between the living room and kitchen like a caged animal.

Detective Rayne Scott was sitting on the edge of the seat of one of Diana’s armchairs, elbows to his knees, evidence bag with Babic’s phone in it dangling from his fingers. His attention alternated between Hugger and the wall beyond, which was where Diana and Suzette were.

Big Petey had never thought much about cops until Tack brought a few into the Chaos inner circle. Not the brotherhood, but they were as close as that could get without a patch.

Normally, if cops stayed out of his way, he stayed out of theirs.

But he respected Mitch and Brock unreservedly.

He recognized Rayne Scott was of the Mitch Lawson/Brock Lucas bent. And not simply because the sumabitch was tall, dark and a damn fine-lookin’ man.

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