at the time, definitely not safe to drive. He’d always wondered if she’d crashed on purpose. She hadn’t braked until the last minute, right before she’d slammed into the concrete wall.
Ace had brought Skye to the wall twice in the past two years, to commemorate her mother. They’d left flowers there and at her gravesite. Ace didn’t think Skye remembered her. She’d been too young at the time of her death.
The memories of Courtney made him feel numb. He
was
a heartless bastard, because he hadn’t loved her. If he had, maybe she’d still be alive.
She’d been a needy, troubled girlfriend at best, and a drug-addicted parasite at worst. They’d both been irresponsible parents. He’d enabled her and lost control of himself. Their relationship had been a roller coaster from hell, and he should’ve left. He shouldn’t have slept with her in the first place.
Shawnee blamed him for Courtney’s death. Ace blamed himself. But he felt guilt rather than grief. Guilt, and a twinge of relief. She’d been a mess of a mother. He was glad Skye didn’t have to grow up with her.
Only a cold-blooded son of a bitch would be glad his former girlfriend and the mother of his child was dead, but there it was.
He took the exit to Slab City, wondering where he should look first. He knew all the good hideouts. A twelve-year-old boy wouldn’t be partying with adults, because even in Slab City some of the adults asked questions. He probably wouldn’t be at the teenage hotspots, either. Not unless he wanted to get beat up again.
When Ace was Jamie’s age, he frequented a couple of places in particular. The first was the communal bathing area. Slab City had its own hot springs pool, surrounded by scrub brush. Ace had spent countless hours crouched in the shadows, hoping to see naked women. He’d been disappointed with old-man ass nine times out of ten.
In addition to honing his pervert skills, he’d hunted for rabbits in a big open field on the old gunnery range. His third favorite spot was a graffiti-covered barricade where he liked to set off firecrackers.
He drove by the barricade and didn’t see anyone. On impulse, he headed toward Kelly Kincaid’s trailer. The kid who’d punched Jamie had been a Kincaid. Ace had hooked up with Kelly once or twice, so he knew where she lived.
Ace spotted two figures lurking in the dark across from her place. They were standing behind an abandoned vehicle. Ace pulled forward, illuminating the space with his headlights. Two boys stared at him with wide eyes.
One was Jamie.
The other, who clearly had more street smarts, took off running. Jamie started to follow and stopped. He returned to pick up an open backpack. A carton of eggs tumbled out, spilling all over the ground. He slipped and fell down in the mess.
Ace had never seen a clumsier escape attempt. He laughed, turning off the engine before he exited the vehicle. He didn’t even have to run to catch up with Jamie. The kid was still flailing in egg yolks.
“You making an omelet?” he asked, arching a brow.
Jamie scrambled to his feet, wary. He zipped up his backpack and put it on. “What do you want?”
“Your mother sent me to look for you.”
His shoulders slumped with defeat. He’d been caught, yellow-handed.
“How’d you get here?” Ace asked.
“I walked.”
“With that other kid?”
“No. He lives a couple of rows over.”
Ace nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Call your mother and tell her you’re on your way home.”
Jamie wiped his grimy hand on his shirt and dialed her number. Janelle didn’t pick up, so he left a mumbled voice message. Then he followed Ace to the truck and climbed into the passenger seat.
Ace got behind the wheel again. Instead of starting the engine, he glanced at Kelly’s trailer, which was dark. “Did you throw any eggs?”
“No.”
“Were you going to?”
Jamie shrugged.
It was none of Ace’s concern, but he found himself annoyed and puzzled by
Ace had brought Skye to the wall twice in the past two years, to commemorate her mother. They’d left flowers there and at her gravesite. Ace didn’t think Skye remembered her. She’d been too young at the time of her death.
The memories of Courtney made him feel numb. He
was
a heartless bastard, because he hadn’t loved her. If he had, maybe she’d still be alive.
She’d been a needy, troubled girlfriend at best, and a drug-addicted parasite at worst. They’d both been irresponsible parents. He’d enabled her and lost control of himself. Their relationship had been a roller coaster from hell, and he should’ve left. He shouldn’t have slept with her in the first place.
Shawnee blamed him for Courtney’s death. Ace blamed himself. But he felt guilt rather than grief. Guilt, and a twinge of relief. She’d been a mess of a mother. He was glad Skye didn’t have to grow up with her.
Only a cold-blooded son of a bitch would be glad his former girlfriend and the mother of his child was dead, but there it was.
He took the exit to Slab City, wondering where he should look first. He knew all the good hideouts. A twelve-year-old boy wouldn’t be partying with adults, because even in Slab City some of the adults asked questions. He probably wouldn’t be at the teenage hotspots, either. Not unless he wanted to get beat up again.
When Ace was Jamie’s age, he frequented a couple of places in particular. The first was the communal bathing area. Slab City had its own hot springs pool, surrounded by scrub brush. Ace had spent countless hours crouched in the shadows, hoping to see naked women. He’d been disappointed with old-man ass nine times out of ten.
In addition to honing his pervert skills, he’d hunted for rabbits in a big open field on the old gunnery range. His third favorite spot was a graffiti-covered barricade where he liked to set off firecrackers.
He drove by the barricade and didn’t see anyone. On impulse, he headed toward Kelly Kincaid’s trailer. The kid who’d punched Jamie had been a Kincaid. Ace had hooked up with Kelly once or twice, so he knew where she lived.
Ace spotted two figures lurking in the dark across from her place. They were standing behind an abandoned vehicle. Ace pulled forward, illuminating the space with his headlights. Two boys stared at him with wide eyes.
One was Jamie.
The other, who clearly had more street smarts, took off running. Jamie started to follow and stopped. He returned to pick up an open backpack. A carton of eggs tumbled out, spilling all over the ground. He slipped and fell down in the mess.
Ace had never seen a clumsier escape attempt. He laughed, turning off the engine before he exited the vehicle. He didn’t even have to run to catch up with Jamie. The kid was still flailing in egg yolks.
“You making an omelet?” he asked, arching a brow.
Jamie scrambled to his feet, wary. He zipped up his backpack and put it on. “What do you want?”
“Your mother sent me to look for you.”
His shoulders slumped with defeat. He’d been caught, yellow-handed.
“How’d you get here?” Ace asked.
“I walked.”
“With that other kid?”
“No. He lives a couple of rows over.”
Ace nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Call your mother and tell her you’re on your way home.”
Jamie wiped his grimy hand on his shirt and dialed her number. Janelle didn’t pick up, so he left a mumbled voice message. Then he followed Ace to the truck and climbed into the passenger seat.
Ace got behind the wheel again. Instead of starting the engine, he glanced at Kelly’s trailer, which was dark. “Did you throw any eggs?”
“No.”
“Were you going to?”
Jamie shrugged.
It was none of Ace’s concern, but he found himself annoyed and puzzled by
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