Convicted (Entangled Ignite) by Dee Tenorio Page B

gears of her mind work when nothing else could. Practical. Ruthless. Effective.
    No one here cares enough ‘bout your skinny ass to save it for you. So what are you gonna do?
    When she was eight years old, terrified of the life she’d been thrust into, she’d done a lot of crying. But Red Dog had no patience for tears and, she’d figured out fast they wouldn’t do her any good. If she was hungry, she made herself food. If she was bleeding, she patched herself up. And if someone wanted to hurt her, she either hurt them first or hurt them worse. He didn’t accept anything less and if she meant to survive, neither could she. It wasn’t what her father had wanted for her, but she still hoped he was proud of what she’d managed to become in spite of it. In spite of him…
    Katrina ground her teeth against the memories. Coming home to find the ambulance and police officers waiting for her. Realizing that her greatest fear had happened. That the sadness and the nightmares in her father’s eyes had finally taken what was left of him. Leaving her alone…
    Damn Cade for dragging it all back up.
    She didn’t feel responsible for him because of David Killian’s suicide. She refused to. Her responsibilities were to her agency and to this godforsaken piece of shit town. To those little kids Cade was so damn interested in keeping safe. She didn’t feel a goddamned thing about the man who couldn’t even let her give him an apology for running out on him.
    She didn’t care what he thought of her at all.
    Now that’s pretty good bullshitting, Katy…
    She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, forcing her temper to cool. Anger wouldn’t do anything but keep her awake. Same with guilt. Guilt for lying. Guilt for running. Guilt for pushing Cade into a relationship she couldn’t handle.
    For weeks after they’d had sex, she’d avoided him. Refused to let herself think about him. Pushed away the emotions he’d brought into what should have been simple, stress-relieving fucking. Then, eventually, she’d had to admit he wasn’t the only one who’d brought feelings into the mix. She just hadn’t counted on what those feelings could mean. What they might make her crave.
    Commitment.
    Honesty.
    Vulnerability.
    None of those things were part of her world anymore. Or his. Any one of them could get either of them killed. Or worse. She’d seen before what these bastards did to the women they discarded. It was worse for the ones they felt had betrayed them. She thought once again of Brynn Collins. Unbelievably worse.
    And yet, she’d tried over and over to explain.
    Cade refused to listen.
    Do you really blame him, Katy-girl? When all you’re gonna do is get that poor bastard ripped apart?
    She folded her arms again stubbornly, as they’d been before, the only difference that she kept her grip tighter on the knife.
    It didn’t matter now. Cade wasn’t going to give her the time of day and she needed to be happy about that. They were both safer apart.
    “Damn it, Katy, he’s gonna need stitches this time,” someone complained. Wolf Hubrick. Young, stupid enough to think the bikers who controlled the town were heroes, Wolf was the bar’s busboy and part-time janitor.
    “Maybe he’ll remember to keep his hands to himself next time,” she said around a yawn. If they could sense her fear, she was as good as fucked. As long as she held her own, no one would bother her. She held onto that knowledge with a desperation she didn’t want to feel. Couldn’t afford.
    “Can’t you just kick him in the face or something? Damn!”
    “Shut up, dogboy,” Hawkings snapped. “Gimme that rag.”
    “Take it,” Wolf groused back. “Mop up your own blood while you’re at it.”
    Katrina opened her eyes at the genuine disgust in the kid’s voice, to say nothing of the solid thump and a grunt from Hawkings before Wolf stomped off. “What’d you do to the kid?”
    Wolf’s worship was practically a given for anyone wearing the cut, a source