I Dare You (The Hook Up #1)(80)

He’d ripped my heart out and sent it through a wood chipper.

I’d never be over that night.

“You can’t let him get away with it,” Mom insisted. “Something should be done about what happened to you.”

What?

I shook my head. Emphatically. My nails dug into the seat, trying to hold it together in a public place when what I really wanted to do was run away screaming. I didn’t want to think, talk, look at, or dwell on Colby Scott ever again.

“What does this all have to do with me?”

Mom lowered her voice. “In case you didn’t know, it’s an election year for Senator Scott.”

Karl leaned in. “So, if we play this right, we can all come out ahead.” A glint grew in his eyes. “We just tell your story to dear old dad and claim we have evidence against his son. He’ll give us money to shut up about it, and we’ll all be richer.”

They wanted to blackmail the Scotts.

They wanted to dredge up the past and air it all out for everyone to see.

They wanted everyone to be reminded of what a slut I was.

Never.

“You deserve retribution. Don’t you want to make him pay?” Mom said.

Make him pay? A strangled laugh came out.

Revenge is hard when the person I blamed the most was myself.

Revenge is even harder when the person you despise is at the top of the food chain and you’re a bottom feeder.

“No, I don’t,” I snapped louder than I’d intended, causing a nearby table to glance our way.

I didn’t care.

I slapped my hand on the table. “The Scott family has run Petal and this state for generations. They control the police, judges, everyone. You can’t do this. It’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard, and I refuse to help you.”

A few beats of silence went by.

Karl held his hands up. “It was just an idea. That’s all. If you say no, then I guess we don’t have a leg to stand on. We can’t exactly say we know what happened when you aren’t willing to tell your side of the story.”

“Never in a million years. Don’t ever bring it up to me again. Got it?” I felt the muscles in my jaw clenching.

Mom let out a brittle laugh. “Let’s have some pie. Okay? That will make it better.”

Karl just stared at me. I stared back.

I jerked up from the table and looked at Mom. “I’m done. I came here hoping, I don’t know, that we could be a real mother and daughter for once—but I guess not.” I opened my purse, pulled out a ten, and dropped it on the table. “This is for mine. I trust you can get your own?”

Her lips compressed. “Elizabeth Nicole Bennett, you will not walk away from me. I gave birth to you and I deserve some respect. So does Karl. He drove me here to see you.”

I shook my head, feeling the last vestiges of my control slipping away as my voice grew louder. “You don’t get it, Mom. You weren’t even there the day I came home from the hotel. You were in Vegas. You didn’t see how broken I was.”

She paled. “I got there as soon as I could, baby girl. I was trying to get a dancer’s job, to get ahead and make a better life for us both. You know I could have been great if I hadn’t gotten pregnant and then your dad …” Her voice broke.

I turned to go, but she grabbed my wrist. “Wait, don’t be mad at me, Elizabeth, for trying to make us a better life. Just think about what we said … okay?”

No!

I pulled away from her and pivoted, my nose crashing into a warm chest.

Strong hands clasped my shoulders, and I tilted my head up, up … straight into a pair of stormy gray eyes.





Chapter 10


Declan


Cookie’s Kitchen was a dump but homey. It was mostly a stopping place for truckers off the interstate, but it was where Max liked to meet and talk shop, mostly about the underground fighting.

We strolled in the double glass doors.

Arlene sashayed over to us in a pink waitress outfit with a white apron. “My Brits are back,” she said with a smile. “Been missin’ you boys.” She nudged her head toward the back. “Max’s next to the window. He’s waitin’ for ya.”

“Thanks, love,” Dax said as he swooped down and picked her up in a bear hug and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and popped him with a dishrag.

He watched the sashay of her hips back into the kitchen. “There’s not a woman alive who doesn’t want me. I think I’m going to change my name to Sex Lord.”

I snorted. “Yeah, that’s a real turn on.”

“Jealous?” he asked.

“Extremely.”

He grinned. “Don’t be. Not everyone can be as wonderful as me. You got your fists, I got my sexing abilities—which in my opinion is a hell of a lot better. Make love not war, bro.”

“That so?” I chuckled.

Max caught my eye and waved us over. He was in his late forties with thinning hair and a trim physique, and I’d met him at one of the local gyms where we’d both taught classes. Over the past three years, we’d grown close, and hiring him to work at my own place had been the next natural step.

We ordered and talked about the gym and the updates. If all went well with the renovations, then Front Street would be ready for business by January. We’d have a soft opening at first and then a grand opening party in February. The flat at the back would be finished a bit later, perhaps in June, since my first priority was to get the doors open for business.