Riding Dirty Read Online Free Page B

telenovela together. Then Mia gave her a hug and said goodbye.
    Before Mia left the center, she used the ladies’ room. As she washed her hands, she examined her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Her face looked the same as always. Her skin was still fair, her eyes brown. She had pleasant features, conveniently forgettable. The main difference in her appearance was her hair. It used to be red, falling to the middle of her back. Now it was shoulder-length and dark. She blended in easily with the crowd. Mia Richards looked more Latina than Michelle Ruiz ever had.
    Her mother’s memory had been failing for years, and her lucid days were infrequent. She hadn’t recognized Mia in a long time. Even if she did, there was no danger in visiting. No one would ever believe Mia had been there.
    It was sadly ironic. The only person Mia had left—her own mother, whom she loved with all her heart—didn’t know her anymore.

CHAPTER THREE
    C OLE PARKED HIS bike behind the motel office.
    They’d really fixed up the place while he was away. The Hidden Palms Hotel and RV Resort had been remodeled to resemble a miniature frontier town. There were two sparkling-new pools on opposite ends of the lot, one for RV campers and one for motel guests. The sign over the bar and restaurant said The Wild West Saloon, which was fitting. It was owned by his uncle, “Wild Bill” Shepherd.
    Cole’s aunt Shawnee greeted him at the back door. She’d lived here and worked at the reception desk for as long as Cole could remember. He smiled as she put her arms around him. He’d missed this kind of embrace—soft, female, motherly. But his pleasure was tinged with other emotions. Unease, because they weren’t related by blood, and some of her past actions toward him hadn’t been motherly. Shame, because he’d responded to her touch before. And guilt. Because he was here to betray his family.
    “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she said, framing his face with her hands.
    He didn’t think he was. She looked good, though. She always did. A little older, a few more lines creasing her forehead. But she kept her brown hair long and her figure slim. His uncle said she looked like Daisy Duke.
    “You agin’ in reverse?” Cole asked.
    Shawnee laughed, releasing him. “I wish.”
    A little girl stood in the doorway, silent as a statue. She had honey-colored hair and solemn blue eyes. Shawnee scooped the girl up and propped her on one hip. “This is Skye. Skye, this is your uncle Cole.”
    “I’m her cousin,” Cole said.
    “Give him a kiss,” Shawnee prompted.
    The girl hid her face against Shawnee’s shoulder in refusal.
    “She doesn’t have to,” Cole said.
    “Why not?”
    “I have boy cooties.”
    Shawnee laughed again, letting the little girl down. At three, Skye wasn’t old enough to understand Cole’s joke. Shawnee waved him inside. “We just had dinner. You want me to fix you a plate?”
    He took a seat at the kitchen table. “Sure.”
    Skye stared at him as if he’d taken her chair. She had a grubby stuffed rabbit clutched in her tiny fist.
    “Who’s your buddy?” Cole asked, indicating the rabbit.
    The girl glanced at the rabbit but didn’t respond.
    “She doesn’t talk,” Shawnee said.
    “The rabbit?”
    “Skye. She’s speech-delayed. Her ears and vocal cords are fine. So’s her brain. She’s not slow. Just slow to talk.”
    Cole contemplated the little girl’s features. “She’s the spitting image of Courtney.”
    “I know.”
    “Except for the eyes.”
    “Those are Ace,” Shawnee agreed, putting a loaded plate down on the table. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans with bacon. His throat closed up at the familiar sight and smells. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in years. This place wasn’t home, but it was the closest thing he had.
    “You want a beer?”
    “Yeah.”
    She opened the fridge and popped the cap off a Sam Adams before setting it down. “What’s