Excerpt from Barbed Wire Heart by Tess Sharpe, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

My hair's making a sticky puddle on my shirt when Momma comes back.

"Harley," she sighs, and wipes the ends of my hair with a wet paper towel. "Run and get dressed. We're going into town."

"It's not Wednesday." On Wednesdays, Uncle Jake drives us in his truck to grocery shop, and I sit between them on the bench seat. Momma likes to sing along to the radio, to ladies who sing about coal mining and broken hearts, and men whose deep voices remind me of Daddy's.

"I know, sweetie. Just do as I say."

She's waiting by the front door when I come back downstairs, dressed in my jeans and boots. She grabs the pink-and-black cowboy hat Uncle Jake bought me at the fair and plops it onto my head. She keeps her hand on my shoulder after we get into the Chevy, and doesn't let go until we're all the way into town.

She won't turn on the radio, and she rolls up all the windows even though it's edging into summer. Every few minutes she glances at her phone, tapping it against her leg.

"Where are we going?" I ask when she drives past the grocery store.

"To see a friend."

She turns the truck onto a street I don't recognize, with dirt and patchy grass in the yards and jacked-up, rusted-out cars without tires sitting in the driveways. The houses grow sparser until there are acres between them and the road turns to dirt. Momma keeps driving until we get to the end of the road.

She doesn't stop right in front of the rickety ranch house, spread low and sagging against the land. Instead, she turns the truck around and parks across the road. Then she leans over the seat to flip open the glove compartment. Her long hair swings across her shoulder and brushes against my arm, silky and smelling like flowers.

My eyes widen when I realize that she's got her semi-automatic in her hand. I watch as she calmly snaps the magazine into place.

"Momma—"

She smiles reassuringly at me, stroking my head with the hand that's not holding the gun. "It's fine, baby," she says. "You've gotta do something for me, okay? No matter what, you stay in the truck. A nice boy named Will is gonna come out of the house. He's ten, and he's gonna sit with you. You let him in, and then you two lock the doors. Don't let anyone but me in. You got that?"

I nod unsurely. She's smiling, but she looks weird, her eyes shiny and wet.

"Repeat it back to me," Momma directs gently.

I do, trying hard not to let my voice shake.

Momma kisses me on the forehead and stares at me for a long second. "Good girl," she says. "I love you. I'll be right back."

I watch as she strides up the road and to the house. She doesn't even knock on the door, just turns the knob and walks in, leaving it wide open.

My fingers grip the edge of the dashboard, my chin propped up between them. I scoot until my knees are jammed up against the glove compartment, my nose inches away from the windshield. It's stuffy inside the truck, and I bat at the pine-tree air freshener hanging on the mirror, watching it spin and wishing I could open a window. But I do what Momma says.

Movement in the house's front yard pulls my attention back. A black-haired boy bursts out of the house, his skinny legs narrowing into bony ankles and bare feet. He pelts across the yard toward me. Dust flies behind him, and I pull on the door handle, pushing it open as he comes running up.

"You Will?"

He nods, panting. I hold out my hand, and even though he doesn't need to, he grabs it and climbs up into the cab.

"What's going on?" I ask him as he shuts the door and slams his palm down on the lock.

"The other one locked?" he asks.

I nod.

"You got the keys?"

I hold out the set Momma had pressed into my hand before getting out of the truck.

Excerpted from Barbed Wire Heart by Tess Sharpe. Copyright © 2018 by Tess Sharpe. Excerpted by permission of Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.