“Why the hell did you bring the kid anyway?” Toby said.

“Because I had to. Asher said if I didn’t make the run tonight, he’d have you fuck me up.”

Toby laughed and said, “You’re already fucked up. What kinda person brings their kid on a run?”

“He’s my nephew, and my sister didn’t come home last night, which you already know. There was nobody else to watch him.”

“Shit, for real? This is LaReigne’s kid?” Toby looked at Marcus, who was asleep on his feet, leaning up against me. “So that’s some crazy shit, huh? What do you think is—”

“Shut up, you asshole!” I said.

Even though Marcus was right there, Toby reached out and grabbed me by the neck. He pushed me back against my car, digging his thumb into my throat.

“You need to learn some fucking manners, Zee.”

“Please,” I said, which wasn’t what I felt at all. “Don’t say anything in front of him.”

When Toby let go of me, I opened the door and lifted Marcus into his car seat. After I shut the door, I turned back to Toby with my arms crossed, so he wouldn’t see me shivering. There was a reason Toby couldn’t do the run to Colorado himself. He looked exactly like what he was: a drug-dealing thug with a neck tattoo and a squirrelly eye. He also happened to be one of the scariest people I knew. Him and Asher. Any time I got tempted by those blocks of cash, that was all I had to think about. Two hundred grand would pay off all my debts—hell, the debts of everybody I knew—but it would also get me killed.

“Jesus,” Toby said. “I was gonna offer to make things easier for you with Asher. Smooth things over.”

I knew what he had in mind for payment for a favor like that, and I really wanted to be done paying for things with sex. I hoped I was never going to be that desperate again.

“Anyway, doesn’t matter now. Asher told me to tell you you’re cut off. You don’t call him. You don’t text him. He’ll call you after this shit quiets down.”

I probably should have got in the car and left, but I had bills to pay.

“My money?” I said.

Toby snorted, but he reached into his back pocket and took out an envelope. He held on to it for a couple seconds after I reached for it, but he finally let it go. I stuffed the money into my pocket and walked around to the driver’s side of my car. When I opened the door, Toby was still watching me.

“Tell Asher he owes me for those suitcases,” I said. “They weren’t cheap.”

CHAPTER 2

Zee

   When we were in grade school, LaReigne and I walked to and from school every day, separated by about ten feet or so, because she was too cool to walk with a baby. One day—I was in third grade and LaReigne was in sixth—when we got to our block, there were half a dozen cop cars parked in front of our house. I remember crying, even before I knew what had happened. I don’t know when I learned to be afraid of the police, but I was. We all were. That day, LaReigne took my hand, and we walked down the street to our house together. Mom stood on the front porch, screaming and sobbing, with a cop on either side of her. Dad was locked in the back seat of a police car, with his head turned so he wouldn’t have to look at his wife or his daughters.

Now, driving past our apartment building and seeing a police car and a police van parked outside, I felt eight years old again. Afraid and angry, but not ignorant or innocent anymore. I didn’t dare stop. I had five ounces of weed in my backpack and a bunch of drops and edibles. Probably the smart thing to do was ditch the weed, but I couldn’t afford to. I needed the money, and it was the only thing that really worked for my pain that didn’t require a prescription.

I kept driving.

“You missed our turn,” Marcus said. Five years old and he was already a backseat driver.

“We’re not going home yet.” I pulled up to the light at Central, white-knuckling the steering wheel to keep myself focused. In my side-view mirror, I could still see the cop car parked in front of our apartment.

“Where are we going?” he said.

“Grandma’s house.”

I should have gone somewhere else. Anywhere else. A motel. A park. A fucking church. Even going to Marcus’ other grandparents’ would have been a better terrible choice, if I was going to make a terrible choice. My mother’s house was on a cul-de-sac that dead-ended where they had widened Kellogg into a six-lane highway, so when I turned down the street, I was already stuck. There were three news vans, plus half a dozen other cars. Once again my family was newsworthy.

Reporters didn’t scare me the way cops did, so I pulled up at the end of the line of vehicles and parked. I got Marcus out of the car and led him across the neighbors’ yards, but as soon as we reached the weedy edge of Mom’s yard, the reporters saw us. Holding Marcus’ hand tighter, I walked faster, keeping my eyes focused on Mom’s front porch, which was piled up with old furniture and lawn tools.

“Are you a member of the Trego family?” said the first reporter that reached us.

“Do you know the family?” said another one.

A TV cameraman cut me off at the sidewalk, while more reporters shouted, “Do you know LaReigne Trego-Gill?”

Marcus started to cry, and then his hand slipped out of mine. My heart stuttered and I turned around, thinking it would be a reporter or a cop or . . . I didn’t know who might grab Marcus.

Standing there, next to Marcus, was Gentry. Where had he come from? Had he followed me there? Of course; he followed me everywhere. Before I could think of what to say, Gentry picked Marcus up. What I would have done if my hip hadn’t been hurting so much. Then Gentry reached past me and used his arm as a barrier between me and the cameraman who was nearly in my face.

“Let the lady pass!” Gentry bellowed. The cameraman backed up.

I ran the last ten feet to the porch, with Gentry behind me carrying Marcus. The screen door was only attached at one hinge, so you had to be really careful with it, and I wasn’t. I was so freaked out, I jerked it open, and the glass panel on the top rattled into the bottom and almost fell out. I managed to shove the whole thing out of the way, but the front door was locked. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and got the deadbolt turned. When I pushed, the door opened, but only a few inches. For a second, I thought, Mom has finally managed to block both doors. She’s going to die trapped in there.

“Has the family heard anything from LaReigne? Do you have any news? Has there been a ransom demand? Are the police negotiating?” Reporters were shouting behind me, Marcus was sobbing, and I could hear Gentry breathing hard.

“Push,” I said to Gentry, and I stepped as far off to the side as I could. Still holding Marcus, he put his free hand on the frame and leaned his whole body into the door. There was a thump and a crash inside, and the door opened wide enough for us to squeeze through.