“Where was Christa? God, why hadn’t he brought Christa with him? She could have talked to Piper, could have made her understand that he had—he had—to make certain whoever hurt her never—fucking never—hurt her again. He felt as though every breath he was trying to take was restricted. “Fuck, hurts to breathe,” he muttered. “No shit,” Rowdy was hoarse. Natches wasn’t speaking. As he wiped his hand over his face, car lights sliced into the parking lot, drawing his gaze as he fou...nd himself staring at the little car he’d bought Christa several months before. As it pulled to a stop behind the truck, it wasn’t just Christa who stepped from the car. Rowdy’s wife, Kelly, and Natches’s wife, Chaya, moved slowly toward them. It was Natches who moved first. Two steps and Natches was pulling Chaya into his arms, burying his face against her neck and holding on tight as Christa moved slowly to Dawg.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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