Page 58 of Savage Angels
“Shut up, Kristen,” I growl, my eyes locked on the drug dealer’s terrified gaze. “She’s cut off,” I warn him, pushing the gun further into his mouth. “You don’t supply my sister with your shit anymore, or I will find you and kill you.” Fear fills the air as he whimpers. “Got it?”
He nods as best he can, and I remove the gun from his mouth, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath. Grabbing Kristen by the hand, I lead her back through the rundown house, her protests falling on deaf ears.
“Let go of me, Jesse!” she yells, trying to wrestle herself free from my grip. “I can take care of myself!”
“Like hell, you can,” I shoot back, my anger fueled by the knowledge that she is slipping further away from me every day. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”
“Fuck you!”
We reach my bike, and I force her onto the back before climbing on and revving the engine. As we speed through the streets of Maplewood, I think about how far we’ve come and how much farther apart we seem to be drifting.
The wind whips at my face, clearing my head as I focus on getting us back to Tourmaline. Despite everything, I still love my sister, and I would do whatever it takes to save her from herself, even if that means putting my own life on the line.
“Jesse,” Kristen whispers, her voice barely audible over the bike’s roar. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” I tell her, my voice tight with emotion. “Just promise me you’ll try to get better for both our sakes.”
“I’ll try.” Her arms tighten around my waist as we leave Maplewood behind and speed toward Tourmaline, our home.
***
The siren blares, cutting through the wind as we speed along the outskirts of Tourmaline. I glance over my shoulder and see the familiar face of Sheriff Carlos Morales behind the wheel of his cruiser.
Shit.
“Don’t pull over,” Kristen groans against my back. “He’s gonna arrest us.”
“Shut up,” I snap as I reluctantly ease off the throttle and guide the bike to a stop on the side of the road.
Carlos pulls up alongside us, his steely eyes scanning us with disappointment. “Jesse, what the hell are you doing? Do you know how fast you were going?” he demands to know, his voice gruff. He stares at Kristen for a moment before shaking his head. “Dammit, girl. You’re high. Get in the back of my car.”
Kristen hesitates, her eyes flicking to me in panic. I nod tersely, signaling her to obey. As she climbs unsteadily into the cruiser, Carlos rounds on me.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks, crossing his arms and studying me intently. But I will never rat out my sister, even if it means getting myself into deeper shit.
“Nothing,” I reply, keeping my tone level. “Just taking her for a ride.”
“Like hell.” Carlos eyes me suspiciously. He reaches for the saddlebag on my bike and yanks it open, revealing the open bag with the bricks of heroin. His expression darkens. “You got some explaining to do, Jesse.”
“Put your hands on the bike,” he orders, his voice cold.
I comply, swallowing hard as he handcuffs me and leads me to the back of the cruiser. My heart races as I try to work out how I managed to get us into this mess.
As Carlos drives toward the sheriff’s station, I cast a glance at Kristen. She’s staring blankly out the window, her eyes glassy and unfocused. The sight of her like this almost breaks me, but I have to stay strong.
“Carlos,” I say, my voice catching in my throat. “Please, just let her go. This ain’t her fault.”
“Can’t do that, Jesse,” he replies, his tone surprisingly gentle. “I’ve known you two since you were born, and it kills me to see what she’s become. But covering up for her won’t help her get better.”
“Then what will?” My frustration spills over. “She needs help, not a damn jail cell.”
“First thing’s first,” he says, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “We need to call your dad.”
A cold wave of dread washes over me at the mention of my father. Carlos is right—things are about to get a whole lot worse.
***
The heavy metal door of the sheriff’s station creaks open, casting a shadow across the cold linoleum floor. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch my father stride in, his tall frame and broad shoulders filling the doorway. The years have only made him more formidable. His dark hair is peppered with gray, but his icy-blue eyes still burn with intensity.