“Preacher doesn’t know!” Debbie cried softly, wishing she could shield Eva from his view. “I haven’t told him anything about me!”
Parker’s answering smile was callous and cold. Shaking his head, he waggled a finger back and forth. “Well aren’t you a little minx. Doesn’t matter, though. Your parents could still make a whole lot of trouble for him if they wanted to. They got the money to do it, that’s for sure.”
Debbie began to shake, shivering despite the suffocating heat she was feeling. It was too much—it was all too much. Her palms were clammy, and her mouth had gone dry. Her heart was racing, her mind spinning, tears threatening. She wanted to shove past the agents and run. Run out of the store and disappear among the crowded streets of Manhattan.
For the first time since meeting Preacher she was aching for the safety and anonymity living on the road had afforded her.
But it wasn’t just her anymore. She had Eva and Preacher. She had a family now, and she couldn’t just leave them. But neither would she allow these men to send her home.
She couldn’t go home—she couldn’t go back to him. She wouldn’t survive it.
“There’s another way.” Willis stepped forward, moving to stand in front of Parker. Eyeing his partner with distaste, he plucked the flyer from the younger man’s hand and crumpled it beneath his slim fingers. “We could forget we ever saw this, and you can go back to being Debbie Reynolds from Akron, Ohio.”
Debbie stared up at him—scared, confused, and barely breathing. Why would the FBI follow her here, intimidate and threaten her, if they were just going to retract their threat? Something else was going on, something that went beyond her.
“Here’s the thing, Debbie,” the younger agent sneered. Elbowing Willis aside, he leaned over the baby carriage, close enough that Debbie could smell the stale coffee on his breath.
“We don’t want you. We don’t care about you and whatever it was that sent you running across the country. We want the Silver Demons. We want Preacher. You help us make that happen and we’ll leave you be.”
“I don’t know anything,” she hurried to whisper. “He doesn’t tell me anything!”
Parker made a clicking noise with his tongue. Straightening, he smoothed his hands down the front of his jacket. “That’s a damn shame,” he said. “Then it looks like you’re headed back to—”
“Please!” she cried. “You don’t understand.” She shook her head frantically. “Please, you can’t send me back there. Please. Please.”
She suddenly couldn’t seem to find enough air in her lungs. “H-he’s a m-monster,” she barely managed to finish.
“A monster?” Parker spat. “You’ve been spreading your legs for a fucking monster. Do you have any idea what that man of yours has done? How many men he’s—”
“Parker!” Willis’s tone was harsh, infused with warning.
Parker’s eyes shot to Willis. “You know it was them,” he growled, shoving his finger in the older man’s face. “You know it.”
Willis gritted his teeth. “We’ve got no proof. Stay on the task at hand.”
Willis faced Debbie. “Anything you can think of—a name, a location, anything at all.”
“Please, no,” she whispered, shaking her head again. Even if she did know something, how could they expect her to betray Preacher?
“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of your situation.” Willis’s voice was firm, and his expression hard. “You are, quite literally, in bed with a known criminal. Damon Fox is under suspicion of racketeering, money laundering, and drug smuggling, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. On top of that, you’re a runaway and considered a minor in the state of New York. You don’t have a leg to stand on here. Either you help us, or we will take you in and contact your parents.”
Willis glanced down at Eva, still sleeping soundly in her carriage. “What that’ll mean for your little one, I don’t know. Social Services might—”
“There’s a warehouse!” Debbie blurted out. “In Green… Green something—I can’t remember!”
If she could have, if she hadn’t been pinned against the shelving unit behind her, she would have thrown her body over the baby carriage. They couldn’t take Eva from her—they’d have to kill her first.
The agents glanced at once another. “Greenpoint?” Willis asked.
“Yes!” Debbie nodded emphatically. “Greenpoint. But that’s all I know. I swear it.”
The two men exchanged another look. “I knew it,” Parker hissed. “I knew—”
“We’ll be in touch.” Willis grabbed his partner’s arm and practically shoved him down the aisle. Just as suddenly as they’d descended upon her, they were gone.
Debbie stared after a moment, before dropping to her knees beside the carriage. Bowing her head, her threatening tears slipped free.
“Are you alright, dear?” An elderly lady was peering curiously down at her.
Swiping at her eyes, Debbie nodded jerkily and hurried to her feet.
“Yes, fine,” she said. “Thank you.”
Blurry-eyed and shaking, Debbie gripped the baby carriage and hurried away. She sped blindly through the store, nearly knocking into several people. Everything felt wrong. Her previous life and her current life had just come to unexpected blows in the middle of Macy’s— one second she’d been shopping and laughing, and then the next… everything had crumbled to pieces at her feet.
She remembered this feeling well—the unrelenting, heavy hand of fear pressing down upon her. She’d lived with it every day for years—afraid to go home, afraid to speak so as not to be noticed, afraid to tell the truth, afraid to lie, afraid of what lay in wait for her in the dark, afraid of her own reflection, even.
Debbie brought her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. She should have told Preacher the truth when she’d had the chance. Now… it was too late. Her truth had just been used against her, and against Preacher. Debbie’s pace quickened. The hand over her mouth tightened. Her vision blurred further. She had to get out of here. Out of the city. Out of New York. She had to get away—as far away as possible.
“There you are!”
The sight of Tiny jogging toward her had Debbie skidding to a stop. Dropping her hand, she quickly composed herself.
“I told you to stay put!” Tiny wheezed. Huffing and puffing, Tiny was red-faced, and his brow was dotted with sweat. “You tryin’ to give me a heart attack?”
Despite herself, Debbie managed a nervous laugh. “Sorry Tiny. I got distracted.”
“You can’t do that to me, Debbie! What if somethin’ happened? You know Preacher would kill me, right? He still hasn’t forgiven me for that shit you pulled months ago—runnin’ off with Sylvie to the clubhouse after I fell asleep? I lose you again and he’s gonna have my head—”
Only half listening, Debbie followed mutely behind Tiny. Appearing calm and collected on the outside, her insides were a twister of emotion—anxiety, fear, and an ominous sense of foreboding swirled to new heights inside her.
Feeling nauseated, she pressed a hand to her stomach and swallowed hard.
Oh God, oh God, what had she done?
Chapter 32