Marshall

I wanna ride a cowboy baby…. AUTHOR’S NOTE Please be advised. This is an MF Age Gap Romance. It is part of a series but can be read as a standalone. This book contains the excessive use of swear words and explicitly described sexual scenes. This is a dark-themed book and contains things that may trigger some readers. TRIGGER WARNING This book contains the following that could be triggering to some readers. Off-page abuse of a child Branding Abuse of a child in the system Copyright © 2023 by Cassie Lein and Alisha Williams All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover by Haelah Rice Designs Created with Vellum CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Epilogue One Epilogue Two Acknowledgments About Cassie About Alisha Also by Cassie Lein Also By Alisha Williams CHAPTER ONE Holding my breath, I try to move quickly but quietly down the stairs. With each step, I avoid the parts that creak, pausing every couple of seconds to listen for any sign that my foster parents are awake. Reaching the bottom, I let out a little sigh of relief and hurry to Mr. Wagner’s office, wasting no more time. I’m in a hoodie and sweats with a backpack slung over my shoulder containing every important thing that I own. I’m getting out of this house tonight and never looking back. I have no clue where I’m going or how I’m going to get there. But the one thing I do know is that I can’t spend even one more night in this house. Unfortunately, to get anywhere, I’m going to need money. Thankfully, Mr. Wagner was careless when it came to hiding the passcode for the safe, where he kept every penny that he took from me; all my hard-earned money from my part-time job. I guess the government didn’t pay him enough, so he felt like I owed him. God, I hate that man. Punching in the code, the lock clicks. I take a moment to listen, and when I hear nothing, I open the safe. Inside sits a pile of money. I have no clue how much it is, but from the looks of it, every bundle seems to contain only twenties. I wonder what he did with all the smaller bills—probably spent them—and with the majority of this most likely mine, anyway, I’m just going to take it back. Grabbing everything, I stash it in my bag and lock the safe back up before turning around and heading for the front door. Once my feet hit the stone path, I start running, not stopping until I’m far away from the nightmare of a place I called home for the past five years. No, home isn’t the word I’d use—that place was never home to me. And now I’m free. Free of their lies and abuse. Slowing down, I give myself a moment to catch my breath as my heart pounds an unsteady rhythm in my chest. The bus station isn’t too far away, so it won’t take me very long to walk there. It’s cold out tonight, a cool breeze sending a chill through my body as I wrap my arms around myself and walk a little faster. It’s the last week of March, so the nights are still cool. It’s eerily quiet out here by myself, everyone tucked away, asleep in their beds. I really don’t like being so exposed and out in the open. When I see the sign for the bus station, I decide to run the rest of the way. Instantly, my feet pound on the pavement faster and harder, because my stupid brain starts to imagine that someone is lurking in the shadows, watching me, ready to shove me into the back of a white van with no windows or some shit. Opening the door to the building, I sigh as the warm air hits my body, making me feel better instantly. Looking around, I see that the place is pretty dead. I mean, I’m not surprised, it’s the middle of the night, and not that many buses would be running at this time. “Hello,” I say, tapping the counter, trying to wake the lady who’s passed out behind it. When she doesn’t move, I tap a little louder. The woman lets out a startled snort as she jolts awake. “W-what’s going on?” “Hi,” I say, trying not to laugh at the drool in the corner of her mouth and the confused look on her face. “Oh, hi, dear,” she greets, grabbing her glasses and putting them on. “How can I help you?” “I’d like to buy a bus ticket,” I tell her. She raises a brow. “You're going to have to be a little more specific there. We have a number of buses that come and go every day.” “It doesn’t really matter, whatever bus leaves next,” I shrug, my fingers tapping anxiously on the counter. My nerves have me on high alert. I can’t help but think my foster parents are going to wake up any moment and notice I’m gone; that they will come looking for me, and I won't get out in time. “Alright,” she says, narrowing her eyes as she gives me a curious look. Thankfully, she doesn’t question me, only asking for my ID. She types away at her keyboard before looking back up. “Next bus leaves for El Paso, Texas, at five this morning.” Grabbing my phone, I check the time. It leaves in two hours. The Wagners should still be asleep and shouldn’t notice my absence until I’m long gone from here. “I’ll take it.” *