Read Online Touch Slowly (Red Light: Silver Girls series) by Debra Kayn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Debra Kayn
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passenger in the chest. "You look like you need a ride, baby."
She started walking, ignoring the losers trailing her. They could follow her all the way to the interstate if they wanted, and she could hold out hope they'd get hit when a speeding car came up on them at seventy-five miles per hour.
"Come on. We'll show you a good time. We've got a fifth left."
"Half a fifth, dude. Mac siphoned a drink off the bottle when we left the party." The other man cranked up the stereo.
The only reason Nova kept from telling them both off was that she could walk faster in the glow of the headlights of the car. Without guidance, she'd be walking a gravel path between ditch and road in the dark.
Another engine roared over the music. She glanced over her shoulder as a gray car passed the two drunks and slammed on its brakes. She jumped in the ditch to escape the chemical fumes of burning rubber, the echo of slamming doors, and the yelling.
Shielding her eyes against the glare of the lights, she groaned with recognition. A muscle car. Emmett. Fight.
What was his problem now?
Forcing herself not to care, she headed in the opposite direction of the scene playing out in the middle of the road with Emmett throwing the drunk driver against the hood of the car. She picked up her pace, straining to see in the dark. Shayla and Nick lived only ten minutes from Federal by car. It'd take her at least an hour and a half to two hours to navigate the distance in the dark by foot, not to mention hiking the interstate and staying out of view of the state patrol.
Once again, her temper had gotten the best of her. Shayla had offered her a ride back to town, and because she refused, fate punished her with a roadside brawl with two drunks and a dick. No wonder she left the trailer park for bigger and better things. The drama and people in everyone's business, every single day, never ended.
A car approached from behind her. The lights lit up her path. She stopped again. The more people who tried to keep her from returning to Red Light, the longer it would take her to get back upstairs and into her room where nobody bothered her, people stayed out of her business, and the only person she was responsible for was herself.
"Get in. I'll take you back to the inn," said Emmett.
She ran through every reason not to get in his car. He insulted Nick in her cousin's home, at his table, in front of others. He disrespected Shayla by questioning and then arguing with a guest—her. Most of all, he was too close to finding out where she worked and what kind of employment she had in Federal.
The sky crackled with thunder and rain splattered on her head.
"I'm so over tonight," she mumbled to herself as the sky lit up with lightning.
The further she got away from the trailer park, the sooner she could seek sanctuary at Red Light and forget about how Emmett made her feel like scum, even though he was no better than her.
The rain picked up in intensity. She ducked her head and hurried around the front of the car and slid into the passenger seat. He could think whatever he wanted about her as long as he never learned the truth.
Emmett sped down the road. She pulled the seatbelt around her, prepared for the reckless but controlled driving he'd displayed on two other occasions.
"I'm glad you got in the car. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about what happened at dinner. I had no right to drill you for answers." Emmett turned onto the on-ramp. "My mistake."
She rolled her eyes at the window. Excuses were available on every street corner for ten bucks.
"I don't know if Shayla or Nick told you." He flipped his headlights to bright. "I'm the manager at Bitterroot Trailer Park."
A nark. The police of the park. A dick.
She'd met her fair share of managers. They all performed dirty jobs in exchange for a couple of hundred bucks knocked off the rent of their lot. She made two hundred dollars in a half hour spreading her legs for sex.
"Aren't you going to say something?"
She started walking, ignoring the losers trailing her. They could follow her all the way to the interstate if they wanted, and she could hold out hope they'd get hit when a speeding car came up on them at seventy-five miles per hour.
"Come on. We'll show you a good time. We've got a fifth left."
"Half a fifth, dude. Mac siphoned a drink off the bottle when we left the party." The other man cranked up the stereo.
The only reason Nova kept from telling them both off was that she could walk faster in the glow of the headlights of the car. Without guidance, she'd be walking a gravel path between ditch and road in the dark.
Another engine roared over the music. She glanced over her shoulder as a gray car passed the two drunks and slammed on its brakes. She jumped in the ditch to escape the chemical fumes of burning rubber, the echo of slamming doors, and the yelling.
Shielding her eyes against the glare of the lights, she groaned with recognition. A muscle car. Emmett. Fight.
What was his problem now?
Forcing herself not to care, she headed in the opposite direction of the scene playing out in the middle of the road with Emmett throwing the drunk driver against the hood of the car. She picked up her pace, straining to see in the dark. Shayla and Nick lived only ten minutes from Federal by car. It'd take her at least an hour and a half to two hours to navigate the distance in the dark by foot, not to mention hiking the interstate and staying out of view of the state patrol.
Once again, her temper had gotten the best of her. Shayla had offered her a ride back to town, and because she refused, fate punished her with a roadside brawl with two drunks and a dick. No wonder she left the trailer park for bigger and better things. The drama and people in everyone's business, every single day, never ended.
A car approached from behind her. The lights lit up her path. She stopped again. The more people who tried to keep her from returning to Red Light, the longer it would take her to get back upstairs and into her room where nobody bothered her, people stayed out of her business, and the only person she was responsible for was herself.
"Get in. I'll take you back to the inn," said Emmett.
She ran through every reason not to get in his car. He insulted Nick in her cousin's home, at his table, in front of others. He disrespected Shayla by questioning and then arguing with a guest—her. Most of all, he was too close to finding out where she worked and what kind of employment she had in Federal.
The sky crackled with thunder and rain splattered on her head.
"I'm so over tonight," she mumbled to herself as the sky lit up with lightning.
The further she got away from the trailer park, the sooner she could seek sanctuary at Red Light and forget about how Emmett made her feel like scum, even though he was no better than her.
The rain picked up in intensity. She ducked her head and hurried around the front of the car and slid into the passenger seat. He could think whatever he wanted about her as long as he never learned the truth.
Emmett sped down the road. She pulled the seatbelt around her, prepared for the reckless but controlled driving he'd displayed on two other occasions.
"I'm glad you got in the car. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about what happened at dinner. I had no right to drill you for answers." Emmett turned onto the on-ramp. "My mistake."
She rolled her eyes at the window. Excuses were available on every street corner for ten bucks.
"I don't know if Shayla or Nick told you." He flipped his headlights to bright. "I'm the manager at Bitterroot Trailer Park."
A nark. The police of the park. A dick.
She'd met her fair share of managers. They all performed dirty jobs in exchange for a couple of hundred bucks knocked off the rent of their lot. She made two hundred dollars in a half hour spreading her legs for sex.
"Aren't you going to say something?"
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