Silver Bastard (Silver Valley #1)(85)
Author: Joanna Wylde

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed as Puck turned the key, the big truck roaring to life. “I’m your old man and it’s my job to protect you. I’m serious about this, Becs. We’re leaving tomorrow and you are never going to communicate with that bitch again.”

Oh no. No way. He did not get talk to me like that.

“Fuck you,” I growled. “You have no goddamn right to tell me what I can and can’t do. You don’t own me and you don’t get to control me.”

He turned to look at me, and the raw anger on his face stunned me. Holy shit. A small part of me wanted to cower back, to beg him not to hurt me. No. I wasn’t that little girl anymore and Puck Redhouse didn’t get to push me around.

“You’ll do what I say, Becca. She lied to you. Put you through hell. What kind of psycho bitch tells her kid that she’s dead just to make a quick buck? If you still want anything to do with her, you’re fucked in the head. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

Red rage filled my vision, no joke. As in, my vision literally turned red. That’s how angry I was. I wanted to kill him, destroy him. Here he was, I realized. Here was the biker asshole coming out, the one I’d known was in there all along.

“This is why I’ll never be your old lady,” I hissed. “In the end, you’re all the same.”

The words fell between us with a thud.

“I’m too pissed to have this conversation with you right now,” he said, slamming the truck into gear. He pulled out into traffic with a squeal of tires, just like my mom had. Crushing pain hit again, and I felt my anger deflate. Why would she do that? How could she do it? What the hell had I done to deserve that woman for my mother?

Fuck her.

And fuck Puck, too. Fuck him for being right about her, and for saying all the things I didn’t want to think about out loud.

Fuck all of them.

I started to cry.

SIXTEEN

PUCK

My fingers itched to kill Becca’s mom—her and her piece of shit husband. They’d been alive too long, polluting and destroying everything they touched. Fucking disease on the earth, both of them.

And now Becca was crying. Like I was the bad guy here?

Fuck. I knew I was being an asshole. Had known it the instant the words left my mouth. Not that what I’d said was wrong—this was absolutely the end for that bitch and her husband. I’d kill them both if they ever tried to contact her again.

Might still kill Teeny anyway.

But tearing into her like that? That’d been a tactical error, not to mention a dick move. Becca needed compassion and kindness and the right words. I’d never known how to do any of that shit.

Darcy.

I’d call Darcy and she’d tell me what to do. Relief hit as we pulled into yet another shitty little parking lot, attached to another shitty motel. Diesel was already here, waiting on the tiny scrap of grass clearly designated for smokers.

Cigarettes.

Fuck, I wanted one. I could taste it already. If I had a smoke, I’d be able to deal with Becca. That’d do it. Parking the truck, I glanced at her and winced. She was still crying. She wouldn’t look at me, either. Nope, she just stared out of the passenger-side window, sniffling because her mother had ripped out her heart and then I’d acted like it was all her fault. Christ. Fucking day from hell. I needed to say something, even I was smart enough to know that. Too bad I had no idea what to say.

“I’ll be right back,” I told her, opening my door. Ten minutes later I came back with two keys to a room down at the end of the building. Becca wiped her eyes as I grabbed our shit, but she followed me toward the room. Then she caught sight of Diesel, pausing.

“That biker’s watching us,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I know,” I replied, my voice tight. Get her ass into the hotel, then you can have a smoke. “I asked him to meet us here.”

“Why?”

“For backup,” I said. “I don’t like heading into shit without someone behind me. He’s an ally—that’s all you need to know.”

Balancing the bags in one hand, I opened the hotel room door and stepped inside. Looked just like every other crappy room in existence. Battered polyester bedspread, TV so old it probably had vacuum tubes.

“We need to talk,” Becca said quietly, shutting the door. I glanced over to find her staring at me, eyes like open wounds. Wow, this day was just getting better and better.

“What?”

“Will you answer a question for me?”

“Sure.”

“Were you ever planning to let me kill Teeny?”

I studied her, realizing it was a trap. Even worse, it was a trap I’d set for myself. “Why do you ask that?”

“You wouldn’t make a plan with me,” she said slowly. “And now I find out you arranged for another guy to come. He wouldn’t want some woman he’s never met as a witness. Why were you playing me? I’m not a child, Puck.”

“I’m not playing you and I sure as fuck don’t think you’re a child,” I told her, running a hand through my hair. Christ I wanted a smoke. “But you’re right—I wasn’t planning to let you kill anyone. You’ve got enough bullshit and darkness in your life already, Becs. Trust me, you take a man’s life, you’re stuck carrying him forever. I understand why you wanted Teeny dead but no fucking way I’d lay that on you. I care about you too much.”

“You seem to think I’m some sort of glass figurine. I’m not going to break, Puck. I’m an adult who’s been through shit. I survived and now I’m moving forward. You should’ve trusted me.”

“But it’s my job to protect you,” I said, wondering how the hell I could make all this go away.

“You can’t protect me,” Becca whispered. “Life doesn’t work that way. Look, I’m sorry I lost it with you. I’m not stupid—I know Mom screwed me over and I know I need to cut her off. But that was something I had to figure out for myself. When you give me orders it pisses me off and then I stop listening.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry I was a dick, too. Look, I need to go out to talk to Diesel. Might hit a bar or something. Won’t be more than an hour or two, that sound good? I think a little space might be good for both of us right now.”

She nodded, looking away. “Yeah, space is good.”

Her quick agreement didn’t make me happy—shouldn’t it bother her that I wanted out? Fuck, what did I want?