by Lori Foster
Various photos from different ages, some of them grainy, others clear, filled the file. Damn, she’d changed.
At one point she’d been more colorful, more dramatic, likely outgoing. Now she was usually so contained she was like a different person. Quiet, intense, focused on a single purpose...
No wonder she didn’t want him to call her Star anymore. She’d reshaped her life, her appearance, her entire persona. She’d made herself into a different person altogether.
The reach of his sister’s abilities never failed to amaze him. “How did you do all this?”
“Facial recognition software, mostly. It’s easy once you have access to various databases. Biometrics map out features and match them up. I wasn’t sure about a few of the photos, so I had to do some cross-referencing to be positive they were really her.”
Parrish sat back, his hands laced over his stomach. “In case you didn’t realize, she’s a vigilante, same as us.”
“But without our connections,” Reyes said.
“Or our financial means,” Madison added.
Were they championing her now? Cade didn’t know what to think of that. Until Parrish wrapped it up for him.
“All of which means she could bring us down with her blunders.” Parrish watched him closely. “You understand that?”
They all waited, while Cade’s calm chipped away. He met his father’s gaze. “You may as well save your breath, because I’ll do whatever I can to keep her safe.”
“I’d like to know how.” Parrish picked up his tea. “It seems keeping her out of trouble is going to be a full-time job.”
* * *
“PUT OUR STUFF AWAY.”
She would, but... “It’s cold.” Arms wrapped around herself, Adela listened to the hollowness of her footsteps on the warped wooden floorboards. Drafts circled her legs. Cobwebs hung in every corner. It smelled damp, as if moisture had seeped in.
The mountain cabin—more like a shack—offered only minimum comfort. A rickety cot, a small generator to run the coffee machine and the mini refrigerator, and a private cell tower so making a call wouldn’t be a problem.
Nervousness sank into every pore of her body. Already the cabin looked dark. How bad would it be when the sun set behind the mountains?
She swallowed hard. “What if someone finds us here?”
“We’ll claim we were lost and needed shelter.” Mattox rolled a massive shoulder. “If that doesn’t work, offer yourself up.” He went to a dirty window to look out. “No matter what, don’t leave the cabin tonight.”
As if she would.
When she didn’t answer, he turned to face her, his gaze piercing enough to make her tremble. “You heard me?”
“Yes.” She looked around again, dreading the next few days. Hopefully Francis wouldn’t make her wait long.
“You wouldn’t make it to the road, not in the dark,” he warned, “and you could run into a snake, a mountain lion or a black bear—”
“I won’t step outside.” God no, she wouldn’t. The mention of snakes made other threats unnecessary.
She shouldn’t ask. She knew better, but she heard herself say, “I don’t see why we have to stay here.”
His gaze went icy. “Don’t you?” Stalking toward her, he growled, “You fucked up, Adela. That’s why Misfits is temporarily shut down. That’s why fucking Francis got away. That’s why we’re losing money as we speak, and that, my little idiot, is why we’re stuck in this fucking cabin.”
A spark of anger ignited, but she kept it under control. “I played my part. How was I to know someone would kill the lights or launch an attack, or that she’d be so quick at finding a way out?”
Disgusted, he said, “You didn’t stop her, did you?”
“I called out!” God, she hated getting blamed—even if what he said was true. She should have found a way to stop Francis, but she’d drawn a blank at the woman’s lack of fear and her daring, plus it had been so damn dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. “You’ll get her back.”
For the longest time he studied her, his expression unreadable. Then he touched the bruise on her face as if fascinated. “Yes, I will—although I’m starting to wonder if she’s worth the trouble.”
Her eyes widened. “You think she’ll stop now? That she’ll just go away?”
“No, but it might be better, easier, to put a bullet in her skull and be done with it.”
Adela was sure he didn’t mean that. “So you’ve given up on making her pay?”
“No. We’ll stick with the set plan.” With a shrug, he added, “It’ll work—if you play your part.”
Glad that he’d relented, Adela promised, “I will.”
Mattox tipped her face one way, then the other. “You look very much like a battered woman.”
Which was the point, the very reason he’d struck her like he did. She held his gaze.
As if she stumped him, Mattox shook his head, then looked around the cabin. “For this insult alone, I’ll make her beg for death. You can count on that.”
Now that he was back to normal, Adela went about fixing them a light meal. Silence settled in, other than the occasional creak of an evergreen swaying or the whistle of wind.
Soon she’d contact Francis again—and then hopefully this would all be over.
* * *
CADE’S BROODING SILENCE was starting to get on Sterling’s nerves.
They sat at the small dinette table sharing the country breakfast they’d prepared together. He’d handled the bacon, eggs and toast. Mostly one-handed, she’d done the fried potatoes.
Impossible to remember the last time she’d cooked so much food for the start of her day. Her normal practice was to grab a protein bar and a cup of coffee. Because she didn’t have it often, the food tasted extra delicious.
It felt good to be functioning again, to be off the couch and properly dressed. Okay, so she wore only a big T-shirt and yoga pants—her typical at-home clothes. She’d even gotten her hair into a ponytail, no small feat with her fingers still taped together.
An hour ago she’d awakened with his arm around her, his breath warm on her neck, excited by the possibilities of their new relationship.
Shortly after that he’d gone all silent and introspective. He hadn’t even commented on her getting dressed, the jerk.
Tired of waiting for him to perk up, she demanded, “What’s wrong?”
That got his gaze up from his plate. “Nothing.”
So he’d make her drag it out of him? Fine. Not like she had anything more pressing this morning. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“I slept fine. You?”
She ignored the question to ask another of her own. “Trouble at the bar last night?”
“No.” Frowning, he set aside his fork. “Why?”
Well, that left only one other possibility. “Daddy get on your nerves? Or was it that annoying brother of yours? Don’t tell me you got a cease and desist on sharing, because we already agreed.”
His mouth quirked at her wording.
She did love his mouth, the shape of his lips, the crooked way he smiled...how he’d tasted. And that strong jaw, now covered in dark, sexy stubble.
Oh, and those electric-blue eyes—which were now trying to peer into her soul. “Uh-uh, no you don’t.” She pointed a crispy piece of bacon at him. “I see what you’re doing, but you have some explaining to do first.”
“As I recall, I did all the explaining last night—and today was to be your turn.”
“Actually...” She thought about it, but if she told him a few select details, would he further reciprocate? She’d never been this curious about a guy, so the lure of learning more tempted her into agreement. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
Ha. She’d caught him off guard. Always a good thing. Spreading out her arms,
she said, “What do you want to know?”
Taking that question far too seriously, he pushed aside his empty plate and folded his arms on the table. “You’re too passionate about helping others, so I assume you have personal reasons?”
Something in his tone... Why did this feel like a test? Did he already know the answers and he wanted to see if she’d be up-front? Irritation sharpened her tone. “Why can’t I just be a Good Samaritan?”
“You can. You are. The way you tried to help Adela, how you’re worried about her still, is commendable.”
“Yeah, someone should pin a medal to my T-shirt. At least give me a gold star sticker, right?”
His shoulders flexed—and he ignored her sarcasm. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
So. Much. More.
She’d never really had a chance to talk about that awful time. Her mother...no, she hadn’t been clearheaded enough to listen, and there’d been no guarantees she wouldn’t blab to the wrong person.
With Cade sitting there waiting, his expression warm, open and caring, the timing felt right to get it off her chest.
Sterling stared at the remains of egg yolk on her plate. “So... I killed a dude.”
She waited for a gasp, for questions, maybe even accusations.
Nothing. No reaction, definitely no outrage or shock.
When she worked up the nerve to look at his face, all she found was honest empathy etched there. It almost choked her up.
Screw that. Making her tone as dispassionate as she could, she quipped, “He had it coming, though, you know?”
“Then I’m glad he’s gone.” Reaching across the table, his hand palm up, he offered her something new.
Understanding.
Theirs needed to be a business relationship...preferably with benefits. Getting emotionally involved with him could pose a problem.
But even knowing that, she couldn’t resist lacing the fingers of her left hand with his. Unlike any other man she’d known, Cade made her feel delicate in comparison to his strength.
With him, it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.
Brushing his thumb over her knuckles, he asked, “Will you tell me about it?”
Telling him would be better than getting all maudlin. “Yeah, sure. Not much to tell, really. I got snatched during my junior year, right after I left school. Two guys. They were flirting and I stupidly fell for it.”
“Got too close to them?”
“Yup. I made it so damn easy.” She blew out a breath. Self-recriminations got her nowhere. She’d lived through it, learned from it and would never again make that mistake. “I was in a van going...somewhere, before I could even figure out what had happened. For the rest of the day they transferred me around from one place to another, moving me farther from home each time. Then I killed the dick who paid to use me, and got away.”
His hand tightened around hers, not painfully but in reaction to that stark recounting. “How did you kill him?”
“I’m not sure I want to talk about this.” But when she tried to pull her hand away, he held on.
“I told you about my stepmother.”
True, he had. “You didn’t force the pills on her, though.”
Both his hands held hers now. His nails were short and clean, his fingers long. Slightly calloused. Very warm.
Very masculine, and they made her think of things that involved his hands and long fingers—
“I’m not going to judge you, Star, and I swear to you, your secrets are safe with me.”
Jostled from her inappropriately timed sexual thoughts, she used her bandaged fingers to trace along his knuckles, up to his thick wrist and then over the downy hair on his forearms. “You know, it’s the oddest damn thing. I was aware of you all that time at the bar, and then we started talking and I felt like I could trust you.”
“Because you, lady, have good instincts. Same as me.”
Sterling eyed him. “You saying you trust me?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
Hell of a compliment there. He did that a lot, heaping little bits of praise on her and making her almost glow with it. Could she do this? Could she repay his understanding with a brief, glossed-over version of what had happened that night?
Sensing her uncertainty, he asked, “Have you ever told anyone?”
No, she hadn’t. “Never seemed like a good idea.”
“But now? With me?”
Would it make her feel better? She sort of figured it might. “All right, fine. I got put with several other girls. Some of them had already been...” She swallowed hard. “It was awful, Cade. Seeing them, knowing what they’d been through, made it all the more real. They hadn’t gotten away, so how could I?” The guilt swamped her again, strong enough to choke a horse, because she had escaped.
And in doing so, she’d left others behind.
Cade said nothing, but he held her hand steady in his and somehow it felt protective. If only she’d had someone like him back when she’d needed him most.
All she’d had was an addict for a mother, and a society that barely knew she existed.
“Like I said, they shuffled us from one place to another, as if we were cattle. Or even...boxed goods, you know? Not people. Not humans with a heartbeat, or girls who felt fear and pain. They didn’t acknowledge any of that. They didn’t care.” This detailed stuff was for the birds. It made her tremble like that long-ago girl who’d been so terrorized. “So anyway,” she said, more brisk now, “we ended up at this big old house that was mostly bedrooms, with a small sitting room, one upstairs john and a tiny kitchen. Each bedroom had a lock on the outside of the door. They somehow advertised us and people put in orders, like...pizza. Except instead of thick crust, they wanted a heavier girl. Red hair, black, like pepperoni or sausage. Fresh...” She swallowed hard. “Or a little more seasoned.”
Cade briefly closed his eyes. Yeah, if he thought it was hard to hear, he should have tried going through it—No. No, she wouldn’t wish that hell on anyone. She’d gladly kill those who instigated or added to the misery, but she wouldn’t make them suffer the same humiliations and abuse that she had.
“Guess I got ordered up. Gullible teen with purple hair and a pierced lip who cried a lot. Sounds delicious, right?”
“Don’t.” His voice turned to rough, broken gravel. “Please don’t downplay what you suffered.”
Suffered, an apt word. Looking away, Sterling nodded. He didn’t need to know that downplaying it was the only way she kept it from taking over her life. “The guy was disgusting, old with a beer gut and jowls, and he literally savored every second of my shock. But he showed up half-drunk, and after that door was locked on the outside, he locked it on the inside, too. Just to intimidate me more, I think, but turned out that was his biggest mistake.”
Cade’s eyes turned steely. “With the door locked, no one else could get in?”
“I figured it would slow them down, at least—if they even heard the scuffle and bothered to investigate. They were used to hearing screams and cries and...rough stuff, so they played loud music in the hall.”
Mouth tightening, he growled, “I wish they were all dead.”
“You and me both.” And if she had her way, eventually they would be. “So like I said, he had a bottle with him and I offered to pour him another drink. Just desperate to buy some time at first, but the idiot agreed, and when I got close to him, I smashed the bottle in his face.” Bile seemed to clog her throat, cutting off her air.
Cade waited, gently stroking her palm...letting her know she wasn’t alone.
It helped, enough for her to continue.
“It stunned him, but he was still upright, looking at me like he couldn’t believe my audacity. That really set me off—that he’d be surprised because I fought back, that I wouldn’t just meekly be raped—and since I
had the broken neck of the bottle in my hand, I...I jammed it into his throat and twisted it deep.”
Without hesitation, Cade said, “Good for you.”
Trying a smile that felt a little sick, Sterling skipped past the massive amount of blood that had gone everywhere, the god-awful gurgling sounds the man had made. “That was the start of my great window caper. It was a hell of a drop, and I was afraid I’d break my legs, or maybe my neck, but I figured it was worth the risk.”
“Jesus. You were on the second floor?”
“Yeah, but the ground broke my fall.” This smile was a little more genuine. She’d gotten past the worst of it and Cade hadn’t rained down judgments, so she guessed he was okay with it. Or at least he got it, that she’d done what she had to. “Knocked the wind out of me, and you should have seen the bruises I got then.”
As if he couldn’t quite believe it, Cade slowly shook his head. “That was exceptionally brave and resourceful.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I should be honest and say I had second thoughts once I was hanging out the window, but my grip slipped and I didn’t really have any choice. Luckily that room faced the back, not far from an alley. I had no idea where I was, but I knew where I didn’t want to be.”
“So you ran.”
“Down alleys, through buildings, across backyards. I think I ran that entire day, weaving my way as far from them as I could get.” She shrugged. “In fact, I pretty much ran for a whole year.”
“You didn’t go home?”
“Mom wasn’t really into helping anyone but herself, and most times she couldn’t even manage that.”
“How did you survive?”
“Halfway houses, soup kitchens. A little thievery. There was a woman at one halfway house who worked with battered women. I’ve contacted her since, when I first helped another woman. She’s the one who told me what to do.”
“I’m glad you could trust her.”
“Trust her? No. But I liked her, and she was good for info.” It seemed one memory churned up another, until it felt like she was living it again. “This elderly guy busted me stealing some of his laundry.” That particular memory lightened her mood. “Know what he did?”