Page 23 of At the Edge of Surrender

Right here in the light of day.

In front of a thousand people if that’s what it required.

But the only thing out there was a plain white car that was parked at an odd angle next to my motorcycle in front of my porch.

Confusion bound me when I peered at it. A middle-aged woman sat in the front-passenger seat, clearly as agitated as Emery.

Emery who mumbled, “Oh my God. This can’t be happening…”

She was shaking. Shaking and shaking before she suddenly turned and bolted down the steps and back to the car without saying anything else.

What the fuck?

“Emery!” I shouted.

She didn’t slow or turn. She tore open the driver’s door and jumped inside, and the car was in reverse and flying backward before I realized there was another passenger in the back seat.

A child in a car seat who had her face turned as close as she could get it to the window.

Hair the same golden blonde as Emery’s and eyes just as wide.

A little girl.

Protectiveness rushed me, this thing inside me coming alive.

Uncontained.

I stumbled down the porch steps and out onto the gravel on my bare feet, shouting, “Emery, wait! Tell me what the hell is going on.”

It didn’t even penetrate.

She shifted the car into drive and blew down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust behind her.

“Fuck,” I grunted as I bent over, trying to process what the hell had just gone down.

Why she was here.

How she even knew where I lived.

A grim awareness settled over me, guts a tangle of aggression, thoughts right back to her demeanor when I’d first noticed her last night.

The grief she’d been covered in.

Her reaction to that fucker who’d gotten grabby with her.

Her begging me to make it stop hurting.

And I knew…knew she was in need.

In trouble.

Running in fear.

And I wasn’t just going to stand there and pretend I didn’t know it.

SIX

EMERY

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