Lay It & Save It

Table of Contents TITLE PAGE COPYRIGHT CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CHAPTER FORTY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CHAPTER FORTY-THREE THANK YOU READ MORE FROM ADELL RYAN CONNECT WITH ADELL RYAN Lay It & Save It is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2023 by Adell Ryan All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher and the copyright owner constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Published by Upside Down Red Umbrella First Edition: April 2023 Cover Art by Upside Down Red Umbrella Edited by Autumn Reed CHAPTER ONE *Lace* “Shhh,” he shushes, wrapping me in a tight embrace. Muffled against the scratchy material of his shirt, my quiet sobs blend with the high-pitched buzz of cicadas high up in the dark trees. Did I pass out while driving? Am I dreaming? The two of us fell into each other’s arms, collapsing onto the dusty Alabama back road in a puddle of heartbreak and relief, before I could even get a good look at his handsome face to verify. “I thought you were dead,” I snivel, repeating the only thought I can fully elicit right now. The crunch of heavy-booted footsteps pulls us away from each other. Kal — based on the thick and worn reinforced leather blend that appears in my sightline — responds instead of the ghost claiming to be my father. “Harry Kensington is as good as dead. Lace, meet Randall Wagner.” Together, we help each other up. I rub off the tiny pieces of gravel stuck to my knees while Dad — Randall — brushes off the chalky dust from his jeans. Wishing this desolate road had a streetlamp, I look up at him. He gives me a tight smile and says, “Kal got me some protective custody, and I went into a witness protection type of program. They are working on cleaning up my past and giving me a different future.” For once, his blue eyes are clear, not clouded by alcohol. Part of the new him, I guess? His hair is faux sun streaked too. But he still looks like Dad. To me, at least. Oddly enough, those fake platinum streaks make us finally look a little related. Otherwise, I favor Mom. Always have. Always will. Bleaching my hair only does so much to remedy that. Speaking of… “Mom?” I dart my focus to the vehicle, easily and intentionally bypassing Coty, leather clad and broody, leaning against the passenger door. “Reece?” “Your mother—” Dad flits a glance at Kal, and Kal gives him a solemn nod “—we suspect she had something to do with the target placed on me. She left town, headed south. Kal has people looking into it.” I open my mouth to ask for more details, but he gives me a warning headshake and jumps into answering my second question. “Reece is here. With me. After some precursory testing and me agreeing to get into a couple of self-help programs, Kal made sure they let me keep her.” I have no idea what entity or service Kal went through to get “Randall Wagner” help, but I would bet my wagon it is not a legal, government-approved one. As long as he and Reece are safe, though, that is all that matters. Now, knowing a couple of scattered pieces of my heart are back together, I can move on. I guess. Despite what everyone else might think, Reece is in good hands with Dad. The weight of that knowledge — going from thinking I was selfishly leaving her behind out of fear of her being a victim of my present mental instabilities, to knowing she has protection — is just about enough to bring me to my knees again. By some small chance of fate, despite everything thrown my way tonight, I manage to stay standing. “C-can I see her? One more time?” I ask Dad, my voice cracking under the pressure of… every damn thing. “Yeah. Of course, baby girl.” A rare show of his vulnerability creeps up in the cracking of his own voice. As always, that vulnerability only peeks out when it comes to his daughters. Feet bare, aching and raw from running — literally — upon hearing news of what Jess did to herself, I slowly hobble to the borrowed vehicle. As soon as only the street and car ahead of me are in my sightline, my mind finally has a chance to start processing the last thirty minutes or so, beginning from when my low fuel light came on. I had plenty of gas. I always fill up at the beginning of Bike Week. When I left Tit for Tat tonight, ready to finally start fresh, I never even thought to look at the gauge. Running out of gas and getting stranded on the side of the road was not supposed to hap— Oh. The likely truth hits me hard in the gut; they did this. Hell for Leather. Kal. I knew they might follow me, but they — he — must have drained my tank to keep me from getting too far. Which could mean one of two things: Either they intended on simply leaving my wagon