Surrender A Section 8 Novel - By Stephanie Tyler Page 0,5
hair stuck to the back of her neck despite the freezing-cold apartment. The heat wasn’t working, but complaining wasn’t an option since she wasn’t an official tenant.
When she knew there were most-wanted posters of her in the local post office, discretion and a low profile were warranted.
Mom, I’m sorry, but I had to . . .
She felt a sudden gust of air and whirled around, gun pulled. The man who stood silently in the middle of her living room seemed unconcerned about the weapon.
He must’ve come up the fire escape, but she’d sworn she’d locked that window.
“You picked the wrong place to rob,” she told him as she took in the handsome face and military posture.
“Avery, I’m here to save you.”
He knew her name. Undercover? PI? She tried to pretend he hadn’t thrown her. “I gave up on the prince-and-white-horse fantasy when I was seven.”
His mouth twitched. “Good. But now it’s me or the guys coming up the stairs.”
Guys, not cops or feds. She hadn’t been wrong. Shit.
“Who are you?”
“I know your father,” he said. “No time to explain further. Come on.”
The man was unblinking. The honesty coming from him could be an act, but she prided herself on her bullshit meter. Right now, this guy seemed the safer of the two options.
Another bounty hunter? Repo? He looked capable of anything, but she couldn’t afford not to take risks. So when he slung both her bags over his shoulder, she followed her only way out. She’d been looking for information on her father—a man named Darius—for as long as she could remember, but it was like tracking a ghost.
When the past came knocking, she knew she had to answer the door.
“I’m scared of heights,” she told him when he’d gotten down to the level of grating below hers.
“You should be more scared of jail. They’ll eat you up in there.” His comments both scared and infuriated her, so much so that she followed him out onto the rusted stoop and down the stairs and was threading her way down behind him.
She hadn’t realized how fast they’d been going until her feet hit the ground with a hard thump on the concrete. She found herself looking down the barrel of a mean old Sig. “I’m already following you.”
“Just making sure.” He motioned for her and caught her arm, hustled her to a waiting truck. She’d barely scrambled into the seat when the man was in his, cranking the old vehicle out of the alley.
She turned to see the unmarked car starting to make chase but she felt the truck speed up under her, as if there was something extra under the hood. Whatever it was, she was more than grateful. Maybe her mother really was looking out for her. “Who are you?”
He didn’t answer as he edged the car through traffic, winding along the side roads, and finally zoomed along the ramp toward the highway.
She turned to check the trailing car’s progress.
“Don’t bother—I lost them,” he told her.
“You’re that sure of yourself?”
“I’m that good.”
That should’ve sounded cocky, but instead it came out like a simple truth from a handsome man who was no doubt a warrior.
Like your father . . .
At least that’s what her mother had always said about Darius. Avery wanted to believe that, felt like she had some of that warrior inside her.
Now revenge ran too hot in her blood and she was discombobulated. But she was free—for now. “Who are you and how do you know my father?”
“He’s my father too.” He glanced at her for a second before his eyes were back on the road. “My name’s Dare.”
She couldn’t speak for a long moment, the surprise stealing her breath as she stared at Dare’s—her brother’s—profile. His hair was dark, strong cheekbones . . . a full mouth. He had blue eyes, nowhere near as light or cold looking as she’d always thought hers were.
Her mom used to tell her with affection, They’re just like your daddy’s. “Are you sure?”
“You knew you had a half brother?” A question for a question—from that alone, she could see the resemblance between them.
“I knew. Mom always said I’d never meet you.”
“You weren’t supposed to, but you’re in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
As she stealthily wiped away a tear, Dare asked, “Why are you wanted?” and handed her the paper with her picture on it.
She studied it as the truck barreled down the road. “It says ‘wanted for murder’ right here.”