“And the truck?” I ask again.

  “The truck needs engine work. Hasn’t run well for the last two years, but we never had the extra cash to buy the parts to bring it back to life. Tim kept promising me, but…”

  The kid sighs, and I can hear the disappointment.

  The resentment.

  It always is the ones closest to you who fuck you with the sharpest sticks.

  “I would have had it out of here last week. I didn’t think I could drive it all the way home, so Tim promised to help me get it on the trailer, but you can guess how that went.”

  Just then, my phone starts ringing. It’s not a ringtone I set up for any of the brothers. Without loosening my hold on the kid, I pull the phone from my pocket.

  It’s a number I don’t recognize with a Miami area code.

  I look at Leo and back at my phone and decide whatever it is can wait.

  “You like bleeding?” I ask him. It’s not a question. “If I let you up, you’re gonna be cool, we clear? You try to fuck me…”

  “I won’t,” Leo says in a rush. “Look, you yanked me out of my truck and punched me. I didn’t know who the fuck you were.”

  “Well, now you do,” I say, releasing my grip on his arm. “I’m the new owner of this property.” I stand up. “And everything on it.” Of course, after being down on the ground that long, my knee pops and cracks as I’m standing as if a firecracker went off. “This getting-old shit is for the goddamn birds,” I say, shaking my leg to loosen the stiffness.

  Leo looks at me like he’s surprised I’ve got anything to say that’s not a question or a threat. I obviously can’t let the kid loot the property, but I respect what he was trying to do.

  In the same position, I’d do exactly what he’s doing. Although I probably would not have been quite so up front about it. In my younger years, I tended to punch first and ask questions later. Fuck, that still seems to be my MO.

  I reach a hand out to the kid.

  “Morris,” I say.

  Leo shakes my hand and nods, his lips a thin line, probably because of what I just said, the tiny reminder that that truck he was trying to load onto a flatbed was auctioned off along with everything else he’d stolen from me.

  Just then, my phone buzzes with a text.

  “Goddamn it!” I bark, pulling out my phone.

  “You know, you can silence those alerts,” the kid says, trying to be helpful.

  I shoot him an impatient look. “Yeah, yeah. If I did that, I’d never get my calls and texts.”

  Leo looks like he’s trying not to laugh at me, but the look I give him quickly wipes the amusement off his face.

  “Wait here,” I say. I swipe at the screen and see the same number, that same Miami area code, has now sent me a text.

  Hi, Morris. It’s me. From the gas station.

  Well, look at that.

  Little Miss Yoga Pants is burning up my phone line. A memory of her sugar-sweet smell and that sunshine hair makes my dick perk up and take notice. But then I realize it’s been just barely an hour since I left her. Maybe she got where she was going and wanted to make sure she reached out to pay me back. Or maybe not.

  A woman traveling alone with a kid and very little money can only mean one of two things. As much as my ego would like to think she’s interested, I’m willing to bet something else is going on.

  The little bird’s in trouble.

  “I gotta make a call,” I tell Leo. “Should only take a minute. Stay right here, and we’ll sort this shit out.”

  Leo nods and reaches a hand into his pocket.

  “Hey!” I make a move to grab his hand.

  “Dude, chill!” Leo points to his pocket. “My phone. I’m just going to check my phone. We’re good, okay? God.”

  I nod and decide to trust him for the moment. I scroll to my missed calls and tap on the Miami number to dial her back.

  “What’s up, sweetheart?” I say in greeting. “Got your text.”

  “Morris…” The raw panic in her voice unnerves me. I can hear a little girl crying in the background and not much else.

  “Hey, hey, hey. What the fuck happened? Where are you?”

  I listen for a few minutes, fighting the animal instinct to jump on my bike and take off toward her. An unreasonable urge to snap something in half takes over as she explains.

  “Stay where you are,” I interrupt her suddenly. “Do you know where you are?”

  She gives me the mile markers and some landmarks, as well as lets me know what direction she was traveling.

  “Stay inside the car. Crack one of the doors facing away from the traffic if you need to let in more fresh air,” I tell her. “You have water? Something to drink?”

  She reassures me they are safe and have water.

  “I’ll be there as fast as I can,” I tell her. “Anyone talks to you or tries to stop, you call me right back.”

  I end the call and look Leo over. He’s got an older extended cab pickup truck and a flatbed trailer. I’ve got a bike and no helmets.

  “You really a mechanic?” I ask, and he nods. “You any good?”

  “Better than good.” Leo lifts his chin.

  “All right, then,” I say. “How’d you like to work out a deal?”

  4

  Jerry left me three voice messages over the last hour. I know if I turn off my phone I won’t have to see the calls coming in, but then I also won’t be able to watch for a message or a call from Morris. He texted me that he was on his way with help, but I don’t know what that means.

  All I can do is wait.

  And hope like hell Jerry is just having a needy day. Right now, I should be miles above the ground on an airplane. Phone off, shoes off, sipping a mimosa, while Zoey entertains herself with a movie on her iPad.

  As far as Jerry knows, everything is as it should be.

  “Mama,” Zoey says, breaking my train of thought. She still looks sad and apologetic. “Do we have to go back home now? Because the car is broken, does that mean we can’t take our adventure?”

  I turn in the driver’s seat to face her. “No, baby,” I assure her. “You remember what I told you this morning? When I explained we aren’t going to Auntie Rayne’s?”

  Zoey nods. “We’re never going back home,” she repeats what I told her.

  “That’s right,” I say, trying to sound positive. Upbeat. Cheerful about the possibilities for the future, instead of terrified that one wrong move—like buying a shitty beater as a getaway car—could upend months of planning. “We’re going to start over. Just me and you. No more angry Jerry, no more strict rules. Just me and you and a new start.”

  She stares out the window before looking at me, fresh tears in her eyes. “But, Mama…”

  The look on her face makes me want to climb over the seat and hold her in my lap, kiss the fear away. “Yeah, baby? What is it?”

  “Does that mean we’re not going back for my iPad?”

  I laugh out loud at that. “Sweetie, we’re not going back for that old iPad. But I promise you, we’re going to get you a brand-new one, okay? It will take us a little time, but the first special thing I buy when I get a new job will be an iPad.”

  “You’re going to get a job?” Her eyes widen.

  I haven’t worked in years. Since Jerry and I got married, and he rescued me from the life of a single mom working as a waitress. Never enough money to cover babysitters, never enough sleep, never enough anything.

  I would say it was a nice two years of comfort, but everything comes at a cost.

  I know better now.

  There really is no such thing as happily ever after.

  “What are you gonna do?” Zoey asks. “Are you going to work at a car place like Dad—I mean like…”

  I shake my head. “No, honey. Jerry works at an auto dealership.”

  He owns three, actually. Which is why the fact that I had to buy a beater from a used car lot to escape him is just about the best example of irony I can think of.

  “I’m going to do something different, something fun.”

  “Like work at a carnival?” she asks, getting excited.

  “No, baby. Not a carnival.”

  “Mommy, I’m hot.” ZoZo wipes a hand on her face. Little beads of sweat gather on her upper lip.

  “Come here, baby, have a sip of my water.” I reach between the seats to hand her my water just as a beat-up–looking truck pulls out of traffic and parks behind me on the shoulder.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Morris.

  I can’t believe he’s here.

  Part of me doesn’t know what to say, what to do. How to get out of the car and deepen the debt I owe to this man.

  But then I get a look at the guy getting out of the car.

  It’s not Morris. This man is small, wiry, and he’s looking my car over in a way that makes me feel instantly on edge. He’s sizing us up.

  My heart starts to race. “Zoey, stay in the car,” I command. I can’t roll the electric windows up, but I flip the fob as I get out to lock Zoey in the car.

  I get out of the driver’s door and step onto the gravel shoulder. I pull my sunglasses over my eyes so I can see the man through the glaring sunshine. I wave a hand at him, motioning as if to tell him to move away, not to come closer.

  “We’re all set here,” I call out. “Thanks anyway.”

  He nods, indicating he’s heard me, but he doesn’t stop. He walks a little closer, never pulling his eyes from me until he ducks his head to peer inside the car.

  Zoey has climbed out of her booster and is sitting in the back seat, peering at us through the open window.

  I want to scream for her to get away from the window, but so far, the guy hasn’t done anything to trigger my intense reaction. I don’t want to make a situation that’s not bad—at least not yet—turn that way.

  “Broke down, huh?” he says, clearly ignoring what I just said.

  “We’re just fine,” I tell him. “Just a little car trouble. My husband’s on his way.”

  I lie on instinct because first, someone is on his way, and two, the way this skinny, shifty man is looking at my daughter is more than making the hairs on my neck stand on end. I feel sick with a worry that can only be described as fight-or-flight. I want to take a picture of his license plate and call the cops, scream for help…but there’s no reason for that just yet.

  Maybe too many years with Jerry have made me overly suspicious. I wasn’t polite or even friendly with Morris, and he’s a complete stranger on his way to help me.

  There are good ones out there, I remind myself.

  “Husband’s not here now, though.” He walks closer to the car, boldly meeting my eyes.

  Then he doesn’t say anything. He just stares like a hungry wolf deciding whether to kill or play with his prey. He’s already past my bumper, which means Zoey is halfway between us.

  “You need to leave,” I say loudly. “We don’t need your help. Just go.”

  “That’s not very friendly of you,” he says, flicking a glance toward the car. “Hot day. Your little girl shouldn’t be locked inside that car. Why don’t you bring her out here in the fresh air?”

  I reach for my phone but realize I didn’t grab it. In my rush to confront the man, I only grabbed the key fob. I clutch the car key in one hand and think fast. Traffic is flying past us, cars hazardously close.

  If I stay beside the car and this fucker tries anything, cars passing by might not be able to see us, to witness anything.

  If I walk backward, toward the front of the car, I’ll be in the line of sight of drivers as they go by. I might be able to attract some attention waving for help. But doing that will put me farther away from him. And from Zoey.

  “Listen, asshole!” I shout, trying another tactic. “You need to fucking leave! We don’t want your help!”

  The man tilts his head before lunging forward and jiggling the door handle.

  Zoey lets out a scream, and I follow, lurching toward him.

  Just then, an enormous black pickup truck screeches up behind us, parking behind the beat-up truck. Gravel dust is kicked up by the enormous tires, and through the cloud, I make out a familiar beard and neck tattoos. I can see my biker is in the passenger seat.

  “Morris!” I scream.

  I don’t know who’s driving, but right now, it could be Jerry himself behind the wheel for all I care.

  The passenger door flies open, and Morris is walking toward me, his heavy boots hitting the pavement in time with my heartbeat. I immediately want to rush into his enormous arms, but I can see he’s sizing up the situation.

  “What’s going on here, baby?” He is speaking to me but staring holes in the stranger. “We got a problem?”

  Morris doesn’t even have to try to look menacing. The sweet man who gave me advice about picking a hot dog could blister the paint off a wall with the look he’s giving this strange man. Something in my chest catches.

  Not fear, but pride.

  He’s doing this for me.

  Protecting me.

  Protecting us.

  The stranger steps away from my car door and holds up his hands. “Just a good Samaritan stopping to help,” he explains. “Looks like you’ve got this under control now.”

  He flits a glance back to me and then looks right through my car window, back at Zoey.

  “It’s a hot day for a little girl to be stuck in a car,” he says, somehow making it sound like an explanation.

  “Why don’t you let me handle my business,” Morris says, his tone menacing. He strides up to the man and raises his thick eyebrows in a challenge. “You wanna leave, or should I make it so you’re the one who’s stuck by the side of the road? Doing a lot less breathing?”

  The thin man, calm as anything, presses his lips together and lowers his head. “I’ll be on my way,” he says. He scurries past Morris, climbs in his truck, and merges back into traffic.

  As soon as the man is out of sight, I shove my sunglasses off my face. I take one long look at Morris and another at my little girl.

  “Baby?” Morris asks. “You all right?”

  I realize in that moment he still doesn’t know my name.

  But I don’t care.

  I walk up to him and throw myself against his chest.

  5

  The moment I have my arms around her, I breathe in that sugar-sweet fragrance, and I feel it.

  I feel her fear.

  Her relief.

  Her trust.

  I hold her tight against me, the traffic noise rushing past, but for a few seconds, all I can do is see red.

  Rage at this little bird getting stuck in the path of another predator.

  What if I hadn’t gotten here when I did?

  Another ten, fifteen minutes, and who knows what kind of danger they would have been facing?

  Even as I think it, I realize I’ve got it backward. This little bird can’t fly free without being stalked.

  Everywhere she goes.

  Beautiful and vulnerable.

  Not anymore.

  Not if I can help it.

  I watch the little girl’s face that’s pressed against the partially open window. I give her a reassuring smile and tighten my hold on her mama. Then I lean back so I can look into her eyes. “You’re all right now,” I assure her. “Did he do anything? You wanna call the cops?”

  “No,” she says quietly. “No. But he was… I was so…”

  “It’s all right,” I say, shaking my head. The fact that she’s safe is all I need to know. If I hear any more, I’m gonna take Leo’s truck and haul ass after that motherfucker and use my bare hands to loosen his nuts. I don’t need that kind of bloodshed on my hands, as satisfying as it would be. “Let’s get you out of here,” I say.

  She doesn’t move out of my arms, and as much as I love having her there, we have a child and a dead car to move, and it is getting hotter by the minute.

  “Sweetheart?” I say again, trying to break through.

  “Right…right.” She sniffs hard and nods at me, stepping away from me. “God. Right, sorry. I just—”

  “’S’all right,” I say. “Leo!” I motion for the kid to get out of the truck. “Come here, come meet…”

  I look at her and crack a grin. “A little help here, sweetheart?”

  She looks at me in confusion until Leo ambles over. He is taking in my little bird. I can feel him assessing her sunshine hair and caramel eyes. Just the thought of his eyes on her body makes me second-guess my decision to let him keep his pretty face.

  “Leo, this is…”

  “Alice,” she says, stepping forward and extending her hand. She flicks me a sweet smile, knowing that she still hasn’t told me her name. “I’m Alice Sparrow. Thank you so much for coming here to help.”

  Before the boy can get in a word, I grab his shoulders in a rough, tight hold.

  It’s meant to seem brotherly but to send a message at the same time.

  “Alice,” I say, liking the feel of her name on my tongue. Makes me want to taste everything about her. “Leo here is going to help get this car taken care of. He’s going to keep his eyes—and everything else that he wants to keep attached to his body—to himself. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

  Alice flushes, and her sweet lips curve into a smile.

  “I’m just here to help, ma’am,” Leo says, and I immediately like the kid a lot better for his manners. He may not be a total dumbass after all.

  I release him and wave at the little one in the car. “We’re going to help your momma, sweetheart,” I say.

  Alice turns and unlocks the car door, and the little girl practically leaps from the back seat and into her mother’s arms.

  I can’t believe Alice has the strength to carry the kid. She’s like a full-grown child, not a baby, but despite Alice’s tiny frame, she holds her daughter like I would if she were mine. Like she is everything.