Prescott kisses my lips before he leaves me for the day. Free grunts and I expect him to tell us to get a room or something equally as childish, but he doesn’t. Once Pres is gone, and I’ve watched him leave, I turn to Free. He’s got a mug of coffee in his hand, holding it to his lips, but his eyes are on me.

“We’re shopping today, you aren’t going to be lame about it are you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He smiles, and it looks almost wicked before he speaks. “What do you mean by lame, Ging?” he asks, his voice smooth and low.

“I mean, you aren’t going to complain, or try to pull some kind of bullshit move to get me to leave by claiming we’re in danger or some shit, are you?”

He snorts. “Who would do that? Not me.”

Rolling my eyes, I grab my purse from the kitchen table and throw the strap over my shoulder. Tossing him my Jeep keys, I walk out of the house. I have a list of shit I need to buy today.

I found one of those ‘what baby needs lists’ online, so I’m going to try and tackle it, today. Hopefully, my mom will see everything and be impressed.

I close my eyes on a long blink, just thinking about my mom. In just a few weeks she’s going to be here. I’m not sure I’m mentally prepared for her visit, especially since she’s not planning on leaving for a while.

Hopefully Prescott is prepared for her brand of crazy, and the brand of crazy she turns me into when she’s being her normal nitpicky self.

“What’s the first store?” Free asks as he clicks the button to unlock the car doors.

I tell him the name of the baby store we’re going to and watch as his nose wrinkles. He doesn’t complain though and I’m kind of surprised.

“Do you ever want kids?” I blurt out. I know he lost a woman years ago, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead.

Free’s fingers grip the steering wheel of my Jeep and his nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. I decide not to push him, not to ask him anything else. I’ve always been curious though. Free is a good-looking guy, dirty blond hair, thick beard, and blue eyes. If Prescott wasn’t the man for me, my eyes would definitely wander over to Free in a crowded room.

“I thought about a family once. When my girl died, that died with it. Besides, if I couldn’t save her, how could I protect a family?”

I shake my head, reaching out to him and wrapping my hand around his forearm. “She had to save herself, Free. Nobody could help her unless she wanted the help. You shouldn’t live with the guilt of that forever,” I whisper.

He grunts. “I have to, Ging. It was my fault it happened to her,” he growls. Jerking my hand from him, I shout, "How?” too loudly.

My heart aches, no it breaks, for not only this poor girl but for Free too. “So, you’ve decided to be miserable for the rest of your life?” I ask.

“Drop it, babe,” he growls.

I decide to do just that and drop the whole topic. I hate it. Free is one of the nicest men I know, and I think that he deserves to find happiness.

He shouldn’t hate himself because he didn’t know how to handle a situation a lifetime ago. He was a kid, she was a kid, and shit happens.

I wish that I could tell him everything that I’m thinking, but I know that it wouldn’t matter. His mind is made up, and nothing will change it.

A few minutes later we pull into the parking lot of the baby store. Suddenly, I feel nervous. My hands start to sweat, and I feel nauseous. I grip the paper in my hand tightly, not wanting to lose my grip on it.

Free is completely unaware as he climbs down from the Jeep and jogs over to my side. He opens the door and I glance over at him. That’s when he realizes that something’s wrong.

“Talk to me, Ging,” he murmurs.

I shake my head once, gulping before I can speak. “I’m not ready, Free. I have the furniture, but nothing is real until I walk into that store and start shopping for all the shit I need, she needs. I’m not ready for any of it,” I whisper.

Free smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Ready or not, here she comes, babe,” he winks. I narrow my eyes at him and press my lips together. “Ginger, she’s coming and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You’re going to be a natural at motherhood, and Prescott is so fucking excited it’s disgusting,” he winks.

Rolling my eyes, I slide out of the Jeep before stepping to the side. “He is pretty excited, isn’t he?” I ask.

Free presses his hand on the small of my back, “Yeah, babe, he’s pretty excited,” he grunts.

Bodies burned, Twinkie’s property burned, bones crushed and disposed of. Now, Lucifer. That motherfucker is a ghost.

A ghost with a gun.

Walking toward Crooner’s door, I knock lightly before turning the knob.

It’s dark when I step inside, and I flip the light on. Hayden is in her usual spot, her hands wrapped around his and her cheek pressed against his middle.

Wrapping my hand around her shoulder, I give her a gentle shake. She lifts her head, and her tired eyes meet mine. Ginger told me not to talk to her about this, and I feel like a dick for doing it anyway, but I need to know how her Old Man thinks.

“Need to talk to you in my office, babe,” I announce softly.

She looks from me to Crooner. “Go. I’m good, Hay,” he rasps. She nods her head, turning to me, and then she stands.

“I’ll be back in a few. We’re getting you up walking today, you lazy fucker,” I grin.

He flips me off as I walk away, but Hayden’s back is ramrod straight as she walks in front of me. She’s stiff with every move she makes, and I wonder if I pissed her off, or if she’s just scared.

Once we’re in my office, I close the door behind her, but I don’t lock it. Walking around to the back of my desk, I sit down in my chair and lift my hand toward the chair across from me.

“How are you doing, Hayden?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

She jumps slightly, and her eyes meet mine. She has dark circles under her tired looking eyes, and she looks beyond haunted. She’s barely holding on by a thread and she looks like she’s about to either puke or drop-dead right here in my office.

“Is this the part where you ask me to start whoring or ask me to leave?” she asks, her voice stronger than I anticipated by the look of her.

My head jerks at her words and I narrow my eyes. “Why would you think I’d ask you to whore?”

She shrugs but doesn’t look away from me. “Twinkie’s gone, and I’m here, working behind your bar but otherwise of no use to you. I know what men in the club expect. I knew it was a matter of time.”

I almost snort at her words. Crooner would probably fight me to the death if I made his girl whore. Aside from that, she ain’t even eighteen yet. No way in fuck would I have her here, whoring, and on top of all that other shit, the life she’s had—I wouldn’t allow it, never mind ask her, or demand it.

“Plenty of other girls hanging around here to fulfill the brother’s needs, Hayden. You will never be asked to do that, even if you didn’t work behind the bar. You’re under our protection and that has nothing to do with how you use your body.”

I watch as her eyes widen, and she nods, her bottom teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she looks at me, confusion obviously marring her features. “I am going to ask you for something, and Ginger says I shouldn’t, but I need to.”

Hayden sits quietly as if she’s bracing herself for what’s to come. I don’t know if she needs to or not, but I plan on being as straightforward as possible. “We need to know where Lucifer would be, if he were lying in wait, trying to be invisible.”

“Lucifer?” she asks, her voice trembling. “I don’t want to, Snake. Please don’t make me,” she whimpers.

I lift my chin and wait for her to speak. Her eyes are not only wide but fucking wild and I brace my hands on the arms of my chair in case she takes off.

“Why do you need to know about him, why are you asking me about him, again?”

“He’s here, babe. He’s the one who shot Crooner,” I gently explain.

She stands, and I quickly do as well. I’m ready to go after her. Except, she doesn’t run, she begins to pace. I watch as she runs one of her hands through her hair and starts to mumble to herself.

“You gotta keep it together, babe. You’re safe here, Easton is safe here,” I murmur.

Her head snaps to the side, her wild eyes meeting mine. “I’m not safe here if he just walked in and shot my-my-my-Crooner,” she hisses.

“You are, Hayden. Security is much tighter here since that happened. Nobody will just walk in anywhere. Doors are locked and have stayed locked. Men are on round-the-clock patrol. You’re safe. However, we can’t find him, there is no sign of him anywhere and this town isn’t that big,” I say.

She lifts her chin, her eyes calming a bit before she sucks in a deep breath. “He would be somewhere in plain sight,” she announces. “He wouldn’t ever stay at a hotel. It would be an abandoned cabin, or maybe he would even rent a cabin somewhere as long as they did it by cash only, and didn’t require any kind of credit checks. He doesn’t have a credit card anyway. He lives off the grid, has for years. He doesn’t even file taxes,” she explains.

I scrub my hand over my face with a groan. We’re never going to find him. Hunting cabins and vacation cabins alike litter this place. This is like finding a needle in a haystack at this point.

“He wouldn’t travel alone,” she whispers.

“He wouldn’t?” I ask, lifting my eyes to her face.

She shakes her head slowly and I watch as something haunted, and horrific passes behind her eyes. “He always has a female with him,” she whispers. The way she says female, and not woman, makes my stomach churn.

“How old?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Fourteen to twenty,” she whispers.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity-fuck.

“You’ve been extremely helpful, babe. I appreciate it,” I praise.

She walks around my desk and wraps her hand around my forearm, her eyes pleading with me before she speaks. “Find him. End him. Save her. Save me.” Hayden releases me and without another word she turns and walks away from me.

I watch her go, deciding to leave her be. Maybe Ginger was right, maybe I shouldn’t have asked Hayden for help. I could have fucked her up even more, but her information wasn’t useless. Now, I at least have some kind of lead, somewhere to focus my search.

Sitting back down in my chair, I decide to make some phone calls. What’s the point of having the police in your pocket if you can’t use them a little. I tell my favorite police chief everything I know, including the information that Lucifer most likely has an underage girl with him for nefarious reasons. He’s more than happy to help, and I can’t contain my smirk.

Lucifer won’t expect local law enforcement on his ass, and I don’t give a fuck what that makes me, asking for their help the way I have. I’ll owe the chief a marker, but if it gets me Lucifer and this poor girl, then I don’t give a shit.