Page 50 of Walking Red Flag

My stomach, which had already been in knots, seized into one large ball of horror.

“She’s moved on. She’s dated. Had sex. Seen a therapist. She’s doing all the right things. I just know…I know that she still has issues,” he intoned. “But I never see those issues, because she tries her hardest to act like everything’s okay around us.”

I rubbed the back of my neck.

“I have a guard on her twenty-four-seven now,” he confided. “That was how I knew where you were. He gives me constant updates on her.”

I imagined.

“I knew he was there,” I nodded. “I just wanted her to escape.”

“The night that her ex tried to kill her on the back of the bike…she’d surprised the guard by leaving. He tried to keep up, but it was impossible,” he explained.

I hadn’t really thought about that, but it made sense.

A vehicle wouldn’t have a chance of keeping up with a bike.

“I’ll watch out for her now, too,” I told him.

His eyes met mine over the top of his car. “She has a bad track record of choosing losers.”

I grinned. “She hasn’t chosen me. I’m choosing her.”

I imagined that it was going to take some convincing on my end to get her to give me a chance.

But it was work I was willing to put in.

Shasha sighed. “I’ll take her from here.”

Meaning, he decided that I was done.

Maybe for now, Shasha Semyonov, but not forever.

Jerking my chin up at him, I stepped away from the car, and he opened his car door.

The purr of his Mercedes engine sounded, and seconds later he was driving away.

Rubbing at the spot on my chest that was all of a sudden aching, I watched them leave.

Then I went back to the prison.

I keep subtitles on because sometimes I chew too loud.

—Cutter to Chevy

CUTTER

Bayou met me at the door, his concerned eyes looking in the car and behind me, likely wondering where Milena had gone.

“Sorry, shit got out of hand when you left,” he said. “Got her squared away?”

I nodded, jaw clenched tight.

I was torn on whether to share with him everything I knew about Pennington, but it proved unnecessary when Bayou said, “Was that her? The one that he hurt?”

I looked up at him and said, “You know?”

“Looked it up after you left,” he said as he caught the keys that I threw him. “Was wondering what he did to put that look on her face.”

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