“And Pappy got what he wanted,” Charlie says, his face turning dark at the mention of Fallon’s slimy manager. “Fame. Fortune. Fucking bullshit, if you ask me.” “He has our girl.” Dakota’s voice is hard, her eyes misty. “He doesn’t care about her.” I scowl. “Pappy don’t care if one day they pull her up dead, as long as he makes his fucking money.”
