Free Bad Company by PJ Adams

the second time in twenty-four hours she was left with only the clothes she was wearing: everything else had vanished with Denny in the Lexus when he’d abandoned her. And this time she didn’t even have the benefit of his roll of hundred dollar bills to help her get by.
    “She’s doin’ it again,” said Marshall.
    Sally nodded. “She is. She does that a lot.”
    “Doing what?” asked Cassie.
    “Talking stupid,” said Marshall. “Ain’t no repaying us, Cass. You don’t owe us a thing. You’re family.”
    She welled up then. Had to look down and pretend she was studying her plate so they wouldn’t see. Of all the dumb choices she’d made, not appreciating what she had with folks like Marshall and Sally, and Lou back at Pappy’s, was perhaps the dumbest of all.
    “I’ll stay in touch this time,” she said softly.
    “You do that.”
    She nodded, staring down at her plate again.
    §
    She thought that was it. Before she retired to the pull-out bed in the spare room, she arranged for Sally to drive her into Conway in the morning where she could work out what to do next, and how to do it.
    She was surprised how easily she slept. She lay down, she closed her eyes, and that was all it took. She must have been riding an adrenalin high for the past twenty-four hours and now she just crashed.
    She woke almost immediately, it seemed, to sunlight streaming in through blinds she’d forgotten to close last night, and to a folded note on the pillow by her head.
    Another note to screw with her life. She knew immediately who it was from, and it wasn’t Billy Ray this time.
    Babe,
    I’m so glad you’re safe.
    I felt so bad leaving last night. It was spur of the moment. Two guys pointing guns at me and I’m sitting at the wheel of a fast car? What does every cell in your body tell you to do in a situation like that? And the worst thing was you thought I’d left you.
    I came back. I listened in. I heard what Brady said. He has a way with the story, that one.
    What he said wasn’t true, though.
    Yes, I went to Pappy’s to find Cassandra Dane and do whatever I could to turn her over to her father. I’m not proud of making bad choices like that, but it’s what I did. Remember the bit way back when we’d agreed I can be a bit of a shit sometimes?
    But that night... I got to your bar and I saw you and you were the girl in a bar who took my breath right away, you weren’t Cassandra Dane. All of that became irrelevant from the moment I set eyes on you. From that point on I gave up any intention to hand you over, or do anything you didn’t want to do. I fell for you, baby. Hook, line and sinker. From that point on we weren’t heading for some secret rendezvous with your long-lost father, we were heading anywhere we could figure that would give us a chance to be together. You have to believe that. It was all I wanted. All I will ever want.
    Right now you’re probably thinking it’s all very well with the fine words but where were the actions? Why didn’t I stop Brady last night?
    Well yes, I could have tried, and it took every ounce of strength in my body to stop myself from doing exactly that. Yes, I had a gun, but there were three of them. And, baby, even if I’d been able to overpower them, I’d heard what Brady was saying. I’d seen the look on your face. The doubts. So tell me: if I’d managed to overcome all the odds, if I’d burst in there and overpowered them, would you have come with me then?
    No. Not when the doubts were so fresh in your mind.
    That’s why I’m doing this. The coward’s way. The note. It gives you time. Time for it to sink in. Time for you to make a choice.
    It’s 4am now and you’re sleeping like a puppy. I’ve been out to a place called Conway and found an all-night store: I have a new cell phone now. Call me, babe. Any time. Now. Tomorrow. Six months from now.
    Give me a chance and call me.
    D
    She screwed the note into a ball and hurled it across the room. Then she looked