Grady just wants to grieve the loss of his ex in peace, but then Quinn's younger sister, Taryn, whirls into his Texas hometown, looking to stir up the past. She brings in a wave of goons with her and a mystery that's well beyond his pay grade. Still...
I give Taryn a lot of credit for going back to the dance floor, pretending that disaster didn't just happen.
While I'm drinking alone, feeling incredibly sorry for myself, she's dancing with everyone who has the right mind to ask. It began with Knox, and she has since moved on. And that was on him. The idiot. Nellie barged in, the girl he's actually seeing. It's not serious or anything, but she was having none of it all the same.
I can stare all I want now. Taryn isn't staring back. And her partners keep getting sleazier and sleazier as the night wears on and the liquor takes hold. It's like she's doing it on purpose, just to get my skin to crawl. If that's her grand design, it sure is working. And if it has nothing to do with me, it's working anyway.
She does say no if they dip too far below her standards, but they don't always take no for an answer, and she sometimes falls into the hands of something bad to avoid worse.
I've been trying to convince myself that their intentions are all in my head, but the latest numbskull to approach her seems to confirm my suspicions. She hears what he has to say with a cold expression and her arms crossed. An apparent friend of his looms closer as well, enough for her to take a step back.
My fists clench. I'm about to get up when a bottle falls and shatters near her. It creates a momentary distraction, and she uses her slim physique and natural grace to slip from their range and disappear from view, even mine, and I never took my eyes off her.
She's gone for a long time. I consider the likelihood that she's hiding in the ladies' room or found a way out the back. My gut gets watery at the thought of never seeing her again, but then she reappears by the entrance and pushes through the glass door.
I haven't seen her touch a drop of liquor. It seems the responsible choice, especially if she's expecting trouble.
The two goons looking for her must have caught a glimpse of her vacating the premises. They traipse after her at a speed I don't like.
I down the last of the Jack in my glass, knowing it's both too much and not enough for what is about to transpire. Then I get off my ass and join the parade. Taryn may not want my help, but, sorry to say, she may need it. Even if she were a stranger, the situation doesn't sit right with me. She's all alone and has a presence that would tempt the devil in all of us. Even Nellie looked like she wanted to claw her eyes out.
Am I overreacting? I don't want her to think I'm another drunk, territorial halfwit who wants a piece of something that she's not willing to give.
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When glass shatters in the parking lot, it turns my head. It gives me some direction and puts the uncertainty to rest.
The one guy took a baseball bat to her windshield and the other one is holding Taryn against the car by her throat. When he whispers something in her ear and pokes her in the bare side, she starts thrashing like crazy and attempting to scream.
