Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 113473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Since Red was still curled into a ball, he wasn’t sure if she heard him. He just had to make sure she didn’t bolt when he ran up to the house. He dug his keys back out, thankful that the deadbolt was one that needed a key to lock or unlock it from the inside. When he stepped back outside, he locked Red in.
He moved as fast as he could in the distance between The Barn and the house, which was about two football fields, and cursed in relief when he made it to the back door without passing out in pain.
All the shit that happened in the woods, the ride on his sled and carrying Red upstairs had aggravated his cracked, and possibly broken, ribs and made every injury on his body throb.
He pounded on the back door and waited.
A few seconds later, Trip’s ol’ lady, wearing her long black hair with blue stripes loose around her shoulders and her normal rocker-style clothes, opened the door, her blue eyes narrowed on Sig.
Before she could say anything, he said, “Need your help, Stel.”
If she wasn’t suspicious of him showing up at the back door, she was now. “For what?” As she took him in, her lips took a deep downward turn. “Fuck. You look like hell.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyebrows pinned together. “Yeah? What happened? Where have you been?”
Christ. He wasn’t getting into that right now. Especially with her. “Around.”
Her face twisted with annoyance at his bullshit answer. “You look like you had a fight with a honey badger.”
“I did.”
“And he won.”
“Yeah, Stel. Seriously. Need your help.”
“For what?”
“Just need to show you.”
She pressed a hand to her forehead, her frown deepening. “Sig...”
“Stella, goddamn it. Wouldn’t ask if...” He wasn’t going to fucking beg. His pulse began to hammer and his blood simmer. “You know what? Fuck it. Fuck you.”
He turned and carefully made his way off the porch and into the uneven grass as he headed back to the bunkhouse.
Fuck her.
Fuck her.
Fuck her.
A few seconds later, the sound of flip-flops chasing him down made him slow.
“This causes issues with Trip, I’m giving you a black eye on the other side.”
“Then you might as well swing now.” Sig didn’t hide his grin, though it quickly turned into a grimace.
“Oh fuck,” she groaned.
“Yeah, oh fuck don’t even cover it.”
“What’d you do?” she asked, walking by his side. “Is whatever it is why you’re all beat up?”
“Noooo,” he dragged out. “That’s a whole other fuckin’ issue.”
“Oh fuck. Trip’s not going to be happy with that issue, either?”
“Thinkin’ that’s a big fuckin’ no,” Sig admitted.
“Jesus, Sig,” she whispered. “He’s got enough shit on his plate. He doesn’t need you dragging more shit home.”
“Didn’t go lookin’ for this shit. It found me.”
“You could have left it where it found you.”
Fuck no, he couldn’t. Otherwise, he would’ve.
They got to the rear of the bunkhouse and Stella stopped, staring up the steps to the second level. “It’s in your apartment.”
Sig’s jaw got tight. “Yeah, Stella, it’s in my apartment.” He turned on her. “You seriously fuckin’ don’t trust me that much?” He began up the stairs with another silent, “Fuck you.”
As annoyed as he was with her distrust, he was still relieved when he heard her following on his heels.
“You haven’t shown me anything yet to make me think I can trust you, Sig...”
“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath. He swallowed the “bitch” on the end of it. Now was not the time to have it out with the Prez’s ol’ lady. Louder, he said, “Don’t do it for me, then,” as he unlocked the door.
“Then for who?”
He pushed it open and jerked his chin toward the interior. “Do it for her.”
“What the fuck?” Stella whispered behind him. She pushed past him, knocking him aside and making him wince. She rushed up to the woman who was still curled in a ball on the floor right where he’d left her. Stella fell to her knees and glanced up at Sig. “You do this?”
Goddamn it. “Fuck no.”
“Then who? Why is she just wearing a tee and flannel shirt? Why is she filthy? Why is she injured like that?”
“Stella,” he began, trying hard to hold onto any patience he had left. “Had those fuckin’ answers, I’d give ‘em to you.”
Stella brushed the knotted, caked hair away from Red’s face. “Where did you find her?”
“Runnin’ in the woods. Naked.”
Stella’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Sig. “What?”
“Runnin’ down the mountain... Off Copperhead Road.”
She blinked a couple times, then her blue eyes went wide. “The Shirleys?” she whispered.
When Stella said that name, Red jerked on the floor.
Sig just lifted his eyebrows in a silent answer to Stella.
“Oh fuck,” Trip’s woman muttered. Then when the significance hit her, she whispered, “Ooooh fuck,” even louder. “We need to get the cops involved. I can call Max.”