Though, this does answer why he had instructed Rocko not to hurt me. He wouldn’t want his son’s half-sister getting hurt under his watch. That would only cause problems, but then, is that something a guy like Anton would really worry about?
Fuck me. My mind whirls but I try to concentrate, I can think it over later, right now I need to hear what he has to say and then I need to get the fuck out of here.
Anton’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “He’s your brother, your friend, is he not?” he questions. “I keep a close eye on him and are aware of your relationship with him. Now, where is he? I have not heard from him in over two months and he’s been lacking in his duties within the family business.”
Family business? What the fuck? This shit doesn’t make sense.
“Answer me, Henley. Where the fuck is my son?”
“He’s not here. He’s gone,” I rush out, hating being the one who had to share this information with both of his parents. I mean, how fucking unlucky can I be? “He joined the Marines.”
“What?” Anton roars, launching forward and grabbing the front of my jacket, ripping me up off the ground as he fights to control his emotions.
Fear grips me as he waits for my response. “I don’t know,” I say, sucking in a deep breath. “He was here one minute and gone the next. We didn’t hear from him for weeks and then a letter showed up explaining what he’d done.”
Anton drops me and my knees buckle beneath me, sending me down to the hard ground. “Get out of my sight,” he tells me.
I stare up at him, too put off to move or to even speak.
Anton steps into me, glaring down at me like some kind of raging bull. “I TOLD YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT.”
My eyes bulge from my head and I scramble to my feet.
Before I know it, I’m racing as fast as I can, desperate to get out of here and away from that man. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. That man is completely unhinged, a monster who just happens to be my half brother’s father.
All I know is that the mystery of Rivers just got that much deeper…darker. No wonder he refused to let us in; a convicted criminal for a mother and mobster for a father. Hell, if that was me, I probably would have left for the Marines too.
Suddenly, a piece of my heart heals for Rivers while it also breaks just a little bit more. I can’t imagine the life he’s had to grow up with.
I break out from the trees with my feet pounding against the uneven ground. People are all around in the dark with their phones lighting up the small space before them as they all call out, but my mind is spinning, I can’t make out what they’re yelling.
I crash into a hard body and hands are suddenly gripping me. I pull away, desperate to be released. What if it’s Rocko coming to finish what he started? “I got her,” a voice too near my ear calls out.
I glance up at the person holding onto me too tightly; Spencer.
My whole body sags with relief and Spencer has to readjust his hold to keep me from falling to my knees. “Where’s Noah?” I rush out, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I need Noah.”
“It’s alright,” he tells me softly, pulling out his phone. “We’ll get him. He’s worried sick. He’s been looking for you.”
Spencer walks back towards the racetrack and the closer we get to the bright spotlights the safer I begin to feel.
“Spitfire,” Noah calls out, making me spin around and search him out to find him racing frantically towards me. “Where have you been?”
I release Spencer and start for Noah, the tears finally spilling from my eyes.
Noah grabs me, wrapping me in his arms and squeezing me tight before taking me by the shoulders and pushing me away. Under the lights, his eyes rake up and down over my body, taking in the dirt stains and grazed skin. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Please…just take me home,” I beg of him. “I’ll explain later. Just…we need to go. Now.”
“Ok,” he promises, instantly turning around and leading me towards his Camaro, calling over his shoulder for Spencer to find Tully. “You’re safe with me, Spitfire. I’ve got you.”
Chapter 11
Dad walks through our front door, looking down at the mail in his hand, a stumped look marring his face as I fiddle with Aria’s hair, working on my braiding skills, though honestly, I should just give up. My braids suck, but Aria seems to love them so I’m happy with that.
Dad scrunches up his face, dropping the mail down on the entryway table except for one before scratching his ass and grunting in true trucker style. “Broken Hill University,” he grumbles. “The fuck is this?”