Page 28 of Hell or High Water

She had come inside silently, gotten herself a bottle of water and a banana, then gone into the room. That had been three hours ago. A banana wasn’t enough food for her to stay in there all night. Jayda would be dropping dinner off soon, and she’d need to come out and eat.

Why did I care if she came out and ate?

Because you’re worried about her. The voice in my head stated the truth that I didn’t want to admit.

But there were two sides to every story, and we’d never really gotten hers. We were going on one side, and not because Jericho Baskin was a good man, but because the family used his political power to our advantage.

Linc didn’t care what her story was. He wanted to keep Baskin’s reputation clean. That was our side of the deal. I shouldn’t care, but, dammit, I did. And not because she was the first twenty I’d ever laid eyes on. I’d disliked her on sight and believed the worst about her because if I hadn’t…well, I’d have probably acted like Gathe.

I’d gone through her things today while she was gone. Trying to find something that would end this. Although the entire time I was doing it, I dealt with fucking anxiety that I would find something. Freeing Baskin of her hold over him would mean she was on her own. Alone. I couldn’t say I would be okay with that. Even if I shouldn’t give a fuck.

Hunting for shit on her only made me more curious about her. Nothing was in there that could be used against her.

One box had her panties—which, I’d admit, I took my time going through them. She had real good taste in her undies. I especially liked the pink satin and black lace thong that had a tiny bow on the front, where it was a see-through mesh. And she did own a motherfucking bra. One. One bra. A pale pink lace thing with underwires. Like I had already guessed, she was a D. Thirty-four D, to be exact. Beneath all that, I found photographs. Her momma had been hot, but not on Montana’s level. A folded-up Guns N’ Roses concert T-shirt that looked like it was an ’80s original, some pressed and dried red roses, and an ornate handheld mirror.

The next box was full of shot glasses that had places on them. That was weird as fuck, but whatever. When you were that hot, you could get away with odd shit like that.

The third one was books. All kinds. She didn’t seem to prefer one specific genre.

Her suitcases held her clothing and shoes. There was a makeup bag in the small corner bathroom area that had very little makeup and her toiletries.

The harder I’d dug, the more Montana had looked more like the victim rather than the villain.

Fuck knew Baskin had left a pile of victims in his wake.

A knock at the door meant food was here. Leaving her phone on the coffee table, I got up to go get whatever deliciousness Jayda was bringing us. And then maybe entice Montana out of her room with it. Or not. It was better if she stayed in there, away from me.

However, when I jerked the door open, it was Gathe holding the bag that Jayda always brought the food in with a wide-ass grin.

“Dinnertime,” he said as he walked past me and into the cabin.

His gaze scanned the place, then stopped on the bedroom door before he turned to me. “She doing homework?”

I shrugged. “No clue.”

He set the bag down on the counter. “How long has she been in there?”

“Since she got back,” I said, annoyed that he was still standing there and hadn’t left yet. “Thanks for bringing the food.”

I left the cabin door open for him to walk out of, but he wasn’t going toward it. Instead, he was heading toward the bedroom door.

I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing when he lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

“Montana,” he called out, “come out and eat with us.”

“She’ll eat when she’s ready,” I told him, not masking my annoyance that he was here.

He ignored me and stood at the door for her to open it.

“Are you going to stand there until she comes out?” I snapped.

He glanced back at me. “She’s hiding from you. Not me.”

The door opened behind him, and there she was. Her hair was damp from the shower. Locks fell over her bare shoulders since, God help me, she was wearing a tank top. With a pair of tiny little pajama shorts to match. She glanced over at me, then back to Gathe.

“Hi,” she said almost shyly, and I didn’t like that.

Why was she acting shy around him? She wasn’t fucking shy. Unless she’d been imagining him during her alone time. I fucking loathed that thought.

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