Page 23 of Never His Girl
Because he definitely knowssomething.
“Let me go! I’m cool! I just—”
Shouting this only makes me seem even more unstable, so Dane turns to help when Sterling starts to lose his grasp. By the time I do finally get free, it’s too late. There’s no point running after Ricky now because he’s got his helmet on and his bike’s roaring out of the parking lot.
“Damn it!” I kick my bag a few feet and glance in the direction where my only chance at answers disappears.
That statement meant something. More than Ricky let on, and I know he’s the key to me understanding just what the hell is going on around here.
Does he know about the connection between my dad and Southside?
Or … is there something more?
Something I hadn’t even considered before now?
One thing’s for damn sure, my chances of figuring it out just rode off on a motorcycle, and odds are I won’t find him again until he wants to be found.
Just fucking perfect.
* * *
@QweenPandora:Whoa! Did anyone catch that fight? I won’t name names, because SOME of us have ourselves deep enough in hot water as it is, thanks to my last exposé.
#SorryNotSorry
But let’s just say two run-ins in one day, both with guys connected to the object of his obsession, makes a certain King look a little unstable, folks.
Could he be spiraling?
In regret? Jealousy? Or is it both?
If you ask me, someone’s having a hard time facing the music since losing his girl. But, according to the masses, these wounds are self-inflicted.
Right?
Unless, of course … that’s not entirely true.
We’ll have to stay tuned to see where the cookie crumbs lead. And you all know I’ll be the first to tell you more as soon as there’s more to tell ;)
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 7
WEST
A bag of ice melts against my knuckles, per my mother’s request. While she’s concerned about bruising and swelling, I don’t give a fuck. My mind’s on the fight, on what Ricky said afterward.
The part about no one else in Blue’s family needing another Golden with his hands around their throat.
I’ve gone over it a million times, gone over what he could’ve meant, and I keep coming up empty. He can only be talking about Vin, but beyond that, I’m lost.
Since making it home a few hours ago, I’ve thought several times about driving up and down every street of South Cypress, looking for Ricky, asking around until I find someone who knows him. But not knowing his last name makes him a ghost. There’s also the fact that I’m pretty sure no one on that side of town would give up info on him even if they had it.
But damn … he knows something.
Much more than I do.