Page 46 of Vandal Unbound

As I watch my baby drive off in the back of someone else’s car a week later, I can’t decide whether to insist I’m making it work or cry. The mom of another child in Elsie’s camp offered to take them to a petting zoo about thirty minutes away. Elsie was so excited to go with Trudi and her mom that she hasn’t been able to talk about anything since.

I don’t tell her about the preparation I did. Calling the venue to see if they had security on site, stalking the poor woman’s social media so I had a clear view of who she is and what she stands for. And taking Annie up on her offer to leave early a few times so I could get to the camp early enough to talk to her.

And the truth is, Laurie is a lovely human being. Her kids love her. She has this amazingly patient but firm parenting style. But I’m not taking any chances, which is why I bought one of those small trackers and fixed it into the sole of Elsie’s new sneaker so I can see where she is at all times.

I try not to think about how I could afford it. That I received two random deliveries of groceries in the same way you might get flowers on Valentine’s Day. I had my suspicions, and Havocconfirmed them when I saw him in the bar yesterday. Vandal sent them.

Then my car was returned by Ridge and Sunny. They said they just fixed the radiator, but I swear the car has two new tires and had been given a full valet service, inside and out.

Since then, I’ve had my phone in my hand a million times to text Vandal thank you. To tell him I’m sorry for what I said on the road about him not being able to look after himself. And how I asked him if he was sober, because my immediate reaction was to assume Daisy had been put in danger. But each time, I just look at that blank text box and have no idea what to say.

Now, it feels as though too much time has passed and I’m starting to feel like one of those ‘Am I The Asshole’ posts when you know you are, in fact, the asshole.

Because I’m pretty sure I kicked a good man while he’s down.

But then I remember what Vandal said to Havoc when he was about to drive us out of there, about the trouble being Alvarez, and it can’t be a coincidence.

To try and keep my mind off Vandal as I wander to the bakery, I check my phone and see if Elsie is headed in the direction Laurie said they’d be going. When I dropped Maren off at a stilted house in the middle of nowhere, I gave Maren my number, and she took mine. Two days ago, she asked if I wanted to meet her for coffee and cake at a little bakery on the main strip of town. I suggested today because it’s a rare moment I’m not working or taking care of Elsie.

I’ve even made an effort. I showered, took a minute to do the whole curly-girl thing so my hair bounced. And I pulled a sundress out of the back of my closet. It’s just plain denim blue with thin straps that tie in pretty bows on my shoulders, but it fits me perfectly. It’s perhaps too fancy for cake and coffee, but I needed to do something for myself. I even took a minute to put on some mascara and lip gloss.

“It’s not gonna help you feel better,” I mutter to myself.

Because I still feel like crap about what I said to Vandal, no matter how hard I try to distract myself.

I’ll keep you safe.

You couldn’t even keep yourself safe.

“Urgh,” I mutter.

As if my thoughts have somehow conjured him, I hear the gentle hum of motorbikes that progressively get louder as I approach the bakery.

It’s quite a sight. A procession of chrome and leather. At least twenty bikes, riding in perfect synchronicity. And I’m not the only person who stops to watch them. I lift my hand to shade my eyes from the sun and wonder if Vandal is with them.

As if on cue, a bike takes a sharp pull over to my side of the road, and the others keep on going by without missing a beat.

It’s clear it’s Vandal before he pulls down the bandana that covers his face. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs his biceps, and as always, his leather cut. Sweat dots his brow as he pulls to a stop next to me.

“Hey, Daze,” he says.

I step closer to his bike. “Vandal. I’m so sorry about what?—”

“Don’t,” he says, cutting me off. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

I place my hand on his arm and hope he can see the regret in my eyes. “But I shouldn’t have?—”

“Daze. Please.” I’m not sure exactly what he’s asking me for beyond telling me to stop talking. “You look pretty enough to eat.”

I wish I could say the same for him. He looks tired, dark circles beneath his eyes. But, despite his exhaustion, the way he rakes his gaze over me is enough to make me believe his words. “Thank you. I have a date.”

The softness his face held a moment ago is gone in a heartbeat. “A date?”

I try to ignore the way my pussy clenches at the thought he’s jealous. “With Maren,” I add quickly, because taunting a man like this is unlikely to end well. “She asked if I’d like to meet her at the bakery after we both finished work.”

His shoulders relax almost immediately. “Oh. That’s good.”

“I figure it’s important to make some friends. You know, have some kind of life for me outside of being a mom and working in a bar. And she invited Elsie and me over after we drove her home.”